Chapter 49

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So I decided to update a day early in honor of the anniversary of the Destruction of the One Ring!! And I'm finally publishing this chapter! Do you know how long I've waited? SO. LONG.

*settle in for an 8,600-something long chapter*

When I awoke, I felt as if a stream of sunlight should've been streaking across me. Sunlight meant warmth, love. And waking up with Legolas next to me, his body so close I could feel it's warmth, certainly made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

But it also made a deep blush streak across my nose.

I was only wearing my nightgown. And he only had on a pair of trousers, for Eru's sake!

I wanted to sink into the mattress and let it swallow me whole or get up and put on proper clothes. Of course, I didn't need to worry about waking him, in a way he was already awake. Just... dreaming while awake. Elves are weird—

Battle.

I froze as fear curdled in my gut. Today I could die. Today people I know could die. Today I could fail at protecting.

"Lum?" Came Legolas's rest-infused voice.

Breathe in. Breathe out. I pushed myself up to sit on the edge of the bed. Frigid air rose the air on my covered arms. "I'm okay. Just nervous." Indeed, thousands of butterflies made their way through my core, to the tips of my fingers and toes.

I felt him through the energy zapping the air sit up. "I'll be there every step of the way."

I fumbled with my hands, pulled at the hem of my sleeves. Mithrandir said he needed to talk with me. "Thank you," I whisper.

"I'm—um—" Standing, I made my way to the door. "I'm going to change, then find Mithrandir. He—uh—wanted to talk to me..."

With my hand on the doorknob, I looked over my shoulder sheepishly. "Thank you—for last night."

He nodded.

Um... so... okay...

I swiftly left, praying to Eru that no one would see me leaving his room in only a nightgown. I don't want people thinking something that's not true.

Once in my chambers—bundled feet thoroughly numb from the freezing concrete, even though I wore socks—I quickly changed into something suitable. Battle gear. Well, a white shirt that would go under a breastplate and strong durable trousers. No dresses today. The actual armor would come later.

I smiled fondly at the open journal, inkwell and pen resting nearby. Such a relief to have my old friend back, my trusted confidant. Something sparkling set next to it.

The mysterious mirror, the one I found after I awoke in a strange place, gazed up at the stone ceiling. Stone—nothing strange and nonexistent—reflected in its face. If I looked hard enough, blue shimmers webbed across the surface, warping and worshipping what the mirror held.

Not knowing what I was doing until it was too late, I felt my fingers grazing my perfectly smooth ears.

I wilted, hand falling to my side, shoulders drooping under a weight called forth. Possibilities I could have explored more confidently destroyed because of some strange incident with my birth. What could've been never will be.

Not for the first time, I wondered if this was the consequence of being, well, me. Nature had to balance out. That means I can't live forever, not with so much power. Things must cancel out.

Sighing dejectedly, I strapped Gorthaden around my waist, followed by my long dagger at my thigh. I no longer had my assortment of knives. They're swimming somewhere in the waters of Isengard. Not that I would want them.

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