Night glimmered on the horizon as Legolas made his way back to the house of Elrond. Long passed had the time when Arwen left to seek council with her father, and, for many hours, Legolas had wandered around the half buried ruins of his childhood. Rivendell had seemed to shrink with age, like Lorién, slowly fading into nothing.
        He tossed his golden hair over his shoulder and looked up to the sky. Ithil was rising. Soon the faint sounds of music drifted to his ears; the feast of the night had begun. He knew that Aragorn or Gimli, or even one of the Hobbits would come looking for him soon, though he had no intention of being found.
        “Mãn dú. [ good evening]. Ithil vana uial. [the moon (is) beautiful (at) twilight.].” Legolas spun, unsheathing Díngurth, his blade. It meant ‘silent death’, but that seemed to be his enemy. “Legolas! Im ú dae, im mellon, lle mellon. [I(m) not (a) shadow, I (am) (a) friend. Your friend.].” The figure pulled off its hood, revealing long, dark hair pulled up into a ball at the nape of her neck. Her almost gold eyes locked onto his green ones. The moon made both normally dark eyes glow.
        “Nazglas. Lle goroth dín edhel. [you dreaded silent elf.] I wath undulaclle ril fëa-esse. [the dimness drowns your brilliance in spirit.]” She frowned, her features clouding slightly in confusion. “Never mind.”
        “You talk to fast.” He smiled lightly, gently reaching out to touch her cheek.
        “I wath undavlleril fëa-esse.” He repeated slowly. She blushed, crinkling her nose.
        “I understood that. Just not the part before.” He chuckled slightly.
        “lle goroth dínedhel.”
        “Still didn’t get it.”
        “Then I guess you will never know.” He smiled playfully, pulling her into a chaste kiss that spoke volumes. For a brief moment, there was nothing around them; the path was gone, there was no trees, and no darkness loomed just over in the east. When he pulled away, they both sighed. ‘Perhaps we should return to the village; It seems that they have sent a search party.”

        “It’s all my fault.”
        “It’s not your fault.”
        “Yes it is!”
        “By valor, you are whining like a child.” Elrond walked away from the king of men, slightly annoyed. ‘You spoke out of concern for his well being and your own kingdoms. From what you say it seems that his reaction was in reference to his realization that he loves her. That is a hard thing to admit, especially due to the fact his father raised him on status.” He looked at Aragorn. ‘So it, most likely, is not your fault.” Elrond paused, frowning. “Unless you spoke ill of her…”
        “It’s all my fault.”
        “Oh, valor.” Elrond turned and began to walk out. “Hell be alright. It not, he is a good warrior.”
        “He is not a warrior, Lord Elrond. If anything he is a prince. He can fight, but does he wish to? Nay, he’s more of a_”
        “Well, first insulting my lover, now insulting min. I thought you had honor, Aragorn.” Elrond sighed, silently cursing both his nephew and his surrogate son. Aragorn looked rather surprised at Legolas’s entrance.
        “Legolas…why_”
        “Silent, human. I do not wish to listen to you. I came to assure Master Elrond that I was alright and am retiring to my quarters. I take my leave.” Legolas’s green eyes flashed with anger as he turned. Elrond stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder.
        “lle n-pant-uva, neth mellon. [you are being willful, young friend.]” Legolas gave the elder a look.
        “a na I adan Naroul min dagnir? [And is the man not my bane?] adan ped-lhaew, an a arat. [he speaks ill for a royal.]” Elrond bit out a few words in a language Aragorn did not understand. Legolas shot something back in the same dialect. Aragorn decided it was the ancient Quenya language; he understood some words that obviously stayed from that ancient language to form Sindarin. But why would elves, let alone Elrond, keep this language from him?
        “Fine!” Legolas’s sudden declaration in common tongue startled Aragorn. Elrond gave the prince a warning glare.
        “Diplomacy, young Legolas. That is the first thing you are taught. Surely your dealings with the twins taught you they even learned the same.” For the first time in the good thirty years Aragorn knew the prince, he saw the elf sigh in defeat.
        “I am sorry, Lord Elrond. And I am sorry, King Elessar. My word were selfish and rude; and I fear I do not have an explanation nor a just reason for them to be as such.” He paused, looking between the two lords. The prince knelt down, bowing his head. ‘I am Sorry.”
        “I believe I should be the one apologizing, Prince Legolas. I spoke ill of Lady Nazglas and Master Angelonus. I even offended you, my liege. Your reaction was…undiplomatic but truthful in your feelings. I apologize.” Elrond chuckled slightly at the two.
        “Now, Legolas, do not be ashamed of your feeling.” Legolas looked up at Elrond, his blonde hair cascading down his back from the movement.
        “But my father would not approve. He_”
        “He knows more than you do at this point. Mithrandir knew, therefore your father and I know. Even Angelonus knows; the two that are involved do not. I cannot tell her you love her, nor can I tell you she loves you. Both are true but the words must come from you.” He paused, patting his nephew’s shoulder. ‘Are you more confident now?”
        “No.” He sighed, standing. “I doubt I will be.”
        “But you cannot dally.” Aragorn stood, looking towards the Elvin prince. ‘You may be immortal, but something is coming, Legolas Greenleaf. Either one of you could disappear at any time.”
        The prince’s green eyes clouded with confusion, more so than previously. I love her… she loves me? I should question it but I know it to be true. Some part of me knows. I should go to her, besides, this council is more confusing than Mithrandir’s. Legolas looked at the two males in the room and smiled; a rare thing indeed.
        “Thank you.” You have no idea…