Legolas paced lightly around the golden room Nazglas had been laid in. The Chambermaids had taken her old, soiled tunic and pants and dressed her in a pale green nightgown. Even her hair, previously tucked into her cap, was free and combed. With the dirt and the grime washed off her features, she really was beautiful. He had never seen an elf of her kind before; she had tan skin opposed to the paler kind of forest elves, her eyes and hair were dark, her hair was much longer then usual and her dress… the clothes were definitely not of Elvin design. But what intrigued him the most was her choice of profession. A thief. And yet elves saw no cause for hording material possessions.
        He sighed, facing the window. If he listened carefully, he could hear the whisper of the waves, far off along the distant shores facing the far west. He tucked a strand of his hair, undone from the braids, behind his pointed ear. As he did, he caught the slightest of sounds: the ruffling of skin against silk. He spun to see Nazglas waking up. She groaned, covering her face with her arm before blinking her eyes. He froze as they closed hastily to block out the light of the lamps. He waited silently until she opened her eyes completely. A flash of fear winked through her orbs… she looked as though she would scream. He darted over to her.
        “Naroul, Naroul. There is no danger. You are safe.” She watched for a long moment before relaxing. He could still sense her fear, and he had the strangest desire to take away that fear.
        “Where am I? Where’s Angel?” She made as if to get up but he placed a hand on her shoulder. He could feel the heat of her flesh beneath the light-yet-warm cloth. She shivered at his light touch.
        “You are in my home, Mirkwood. And Angelonus… he is in the chamber next to this. Do not fear, Lady Elf.” She seemed to pout, her lower lip jutting out the tiniest bit. Legolas felt the strangest temptation to press his own lips to hers. He fought the feeling and looked away. Naz noticed him.
        “Are you alright, Master…” he vaguely realized she had spoken. Shaking his head he took a deep breath.
        “Legolas- son- of- Thranduil, Prince of Mirkwood. The Eyes and Ears of the Fellowship of the Nazg.” She looked surprised and a bit impressed. Pride washed over Legolas.
        “Wow…” HE suddenly seemed to realize how pompous he sounded. He flashed her a grin.
        “It is nothing. I naught to have brought it up. Please, Lady Nazglas, call me Legolas. Nay to the titles.” She frowned slightly.
        “Why? Shalt not a common thief know her lord?” For a second, Legolas felt a human emotion, he felt frantic. The feeling was new to him. He took another deep breath.
        “A common thief? Naroul. A princess of thieves is still royalty.” They stared at each other for a long moment, her brown eyes challenging his Green- Brown ones. Finally, she smiled. The image of her face became locked in his endless memory. “I am not a lord, especially to one as beautiful as you.” He felt panic rise up in his throat as he realized he said that aloud. For the first time in many years, a reddish blush took to his cheeks. That had not happened in all of his 2932 years. Someday I would like to be your lord… The thought rushed through his mind and was driven out just as quickly. The blush tinged redder, mostly near the tips of his ears. Her eyes were watching him carefully as he stood rather ungracefully for his kind.
        As if sensing his distress, one of the chamber maids entered and stopped short, seemingly surprised at Legolas’s presence.
        “Aye, the king wishes you to come to his council. And Gandalf the White sent me to make sure she is well.” Legolas nodded.
        “Thank You.” He looked towards Nazglas. “Namarie.” And he swiftly walked out of the chamber. His head was swimming and his father’s council would not give him time for clear thoughts.

        Angelonus awoke with the strangest feeling fluttering around his heart. He felt a hand on his shoulder and shuddered. Even though his brown eyes were open, he saw none of the person. It was in his sisters mind.
        “Naz.”
        Legolas froze in the hall, a darkness tickling the edge of his mind. He listened, all of his thoughts momentarily focused.
        So, Naz, visited by a certain Prince?
        Shut up.
        Now Legolas understood. The twins, there had to be some connection between them to make them special. Besides the fact twins, let alone more then one elfling, was almost unheard of. Sighing, he shook the voices from his head and walked quietly on. Strange times had come since the re- discovery of the Ash Nazg… the one ring. Strange indeed. A breeze fluttered his long hair; it billowed out like the cloak the lady Galadrial had given them in the Golden Wood. Perhaps it was these times he lived for, he wondered, catching a motion from the corner of his eye. He paused and peered out the window. Tall trees with platforms intertwining them, beautiful houses with fading glory, the wondrous flowers of the Elves… The splendors of Middle Earth.
        Naroul, this is what I live for.