I propped myself against a rock. The rock was cold, hard and wet, which, as Faewyn said, was supposed to make me stay awake. However, I doubted I would be able to fall asleep anyway, because at this point I suffered from an inherent fear of drifting back into awful dreams. Or real life, however you want to think of it.
At least I was slowly drying off, which was good. The dying embers of the fire faintly illuminated the straggling forest around me. I figured already that there was no point to me keeping watch, because even though the others were a ways away from me, I was positive they all were awake. I wearily shifted positions and fingered the hilt of my dagger, admiring the craftsmanship in a detached sort of way and eventually set to the task of detangling my hair, which surely would take all night.
I was just attempting to work on the second braid when I heard a twig snap ominously. I stood up, grasping Legolas's bow. Maybe it was a frightening monster I could save everyone from. Imagining my heroic deeds, I stood up and was suddenly facing—Faewyn.
"Oh, it's only you," I said, slightly relieved.
"Only?" She remarked with a half-smile. "You would think I would get a better welcome."
"I'm only glad it isn't a troll or something." I replied, playfully rolling my eyes.
"How are you doing?" she asked, sitting down next to me.
"Fine, I guess," I shrugged, "I can't really feel much when there's nothing I can do and..." I trailed off.
"Well, you can sleep if you want," she offered. "I don't really need much sleep and I'm fine with staying up."
"No, don't worry about it," I said sadly. "I don't know if today I'll be able to sleep anyway."
"If you're sure," she said. "Are you dry yet?"
"Almost," I said with a slight laugh. "My hair is struggling a little."
We laughed, and continued talking about insignificant topics until Faewyn got up.
"If you're alright then I shall try and rest a little bit."
"See you in the morning," I told her, suppressing a yawn. Without another word, she flitted back into the thin trees, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a dying fire. It seemed that mere seconds later, I was blinking away sleep that threatened to engulf me. I tried to focus on the scattered light of the ashes and vowed not to surrender to the visions of flame that surely were ahead.
I could just tell someone was behind me.
Nobody had made a sound, but the instinct was there, that someone was directly behind me and coming closer every minute. Only an elf could make that little noise, or else a very large butterfly, which it probably wasn't.
"Back so soon?" I remarked, positive it was a restless Faewyn.
"I can't possibly be back if I never came," said Legolas's voice dryly. I stood up suddenly and completely lost my sense of direction.
"What's happened?" I said nervously. If the Prince sought my presence, there was either a horrible accident I was unaware of, or I did something. Frantically, I ran through a methodic list of what I did earlier.
"Nothing, there's no need to look so alarmed," he said calmly. "I only wanted to check on the situation."
"Which is pretty much under control," I said, motioning to the area.
"I believe you," he answered. His keen blue eyes swept over the scenery, finally resting on my face.
"Well, you can sit over here if you want," I offered, still confused by his motives.
"I think I shall," he answered, like the way one accepts an extra serving of dessert at someone else's house.
He lightly settled beside me and said "Well, I can tell you've not had any sleep."
"No, I haven't," I said. It came out rather miserably, although my self-induced insomnia wasn't really affecting me yet.
"Did Faewyn tell you that—" he started, but, as was my habit, I interrupted him.
"Yes, I know, you'd be more than happy to keep watch because I need sleep even though you probably have been keeping watch all night anyway, so I should really accept because I need sleep."
"Well, yes," he admitted. "But now that I see you aren't going anywhere, I want to ask you something."
"Go ahead," I said, leaning farther back against the rock.
"How are you really involved in this whole thing?" he asked.
"Isn't that what were trying to figure out?" I said, confused.
"I mean the reasons the white stag told you."
"He said that there were many things which could be related to, but not affected by the scroll."
"He said that?" Legolas seemed surprised.
"In a roundabout way, I suppose," I said.
"There's something I should tell you about this," he said gravely, looking into the ashes of the fire.
"Hmm?"
"My father needs another thing." he continued hesitantly. "There is a possibility that if Lorien has opened the gateway between dreams, these goblin-hybrid monsters are looking for someone with the key."
"The key to what?" I asked in a low voice. His blue eyes stared at me impassively and I felt a rising heat inside of my chest.
"The key to releasing Morgoth."
There was a heavy pause.
"But he was cast into an eternal prison by the Valar after the War of Wrath." I said slowly. "One does not simply have a key to the Doors of Night."
"It's not a corporeal key," he pointed out.
"Then what is it?"
"It's—complicated," he said tersely. "I'd rather not talk about it."
"Well, thank you for telling me," I said heavily. "I can't imagine how all of this is related."
"I can—imagine, I suppose," he said quietly. "But it doesn't look heartening." He stared broodingly into the fire.
"Gianna," he said.
I don't know why, but I got shivers down my spine.
"Yes, Legolas?" I asked, not looking at him.
"Gianna, look at me."
I think at this time, the inside of my chest was a large mass of lava, searing my very bones into a questionable substance.
I slowly turned to face him. He was studying me curiously, his head tilted ever so slightly.
"You have a moth in your hair," he said.
I burst into laughter. How absurd, really, a handsome prince telling me I had a moth in my hair. And next, he plucks it out and there's some kind of deeper meaning, or a gigantic swell of music, or something. I regained control of my senses and looked at him.
"There is not a moth in my hair, Legolas," I said skeptically. "There's no way."
He reached out and lightly brushed his fingers over the side of my face, tucking my hair behind my ear, which, honestly, was extremely frightening, but even more so when he gently pulled back his hand then said— "See? I told you."
I was absolutely astounded when I saw the moth wasn't in his hands—it was perched on top like some bizarre bird and was probably the size of my face.
"How on earth was that in my hair?" I asked, fascinated, and yet also quite alarmed at the prospect of gigantic moths nesting in my hair. "I saw it fly down from the branch above you a few minutes ago. They like the damp." he said, laughing a little.
"Next time I have abnormally large insects in my hair, will you please tell me so I don't have to rely on any more princes to do it for me?" I scowled at him.
"Of course, my lady," he said, with an exaggerated flourish. I couldn't help but laugh at his expression. He scooted a little closer, noticing I was still trying to untangle a stubborn knot in a braid. I realised it had been at least a month since I had fully brushed out my hair while in Middle-Earth, as it conveniently was still braided when I returned.
"Let me," he said, reaching over. "People tell me I have experience with hair."
As this was obviously a reference to our first conversation, I rolled my eyes and sighed, "Try not to strangle yourself."
Through my exoskeleton of indifference, I tried not to panic as I felt his slender fingers carefully working out a stubborn knot in my hair. Although I was trying to deny it, every time I was near him, I felt so...unstable.
Everything seemed to be constantly a blur and I forgot how to do normal things, like breathe, for example, which was bad, because I began to feel rather lightheaded.
"Do you remember the story of Beren and Lúthien?" he asked conversationally.
"Of course," I answered. "I love that story."
"Lúthien also had long, dark hair," he said thoughtfully. "You remind me of her, sometimes."
Mortal and immortal.
"In which way?" I asked, in disbelief. "Other than the color of my hair."
I heard him laugh softly.
"She had a will stronger than iron, which is what led her to challenge the greatest enemy that ever was to live. I think you're the same way."
"I don't know, Legolas," I said softly. "I hope I am."
I turned to face him again as he finished untangling my hair.
"Thank you."
He inclined his head, and in him, I saw the regality which was ever present in his bloodline.
"We're leaving in a short time," he informed me.
"It's still nighttime," I insisted.
But my eyes betrayed me the faint wisp of the dawn seeping over the horizon like blood in water.
"Try and sleep," he told me.
"But I don't want to go back," I whispered.
"You won't." Legolas said assuredly.
"What if my legs burn off?" I said, suppressing a yawn and sinking further onto the ground.
"Gianna, I reaffirm my hope that nothing ever happens to you," he said, although I heard a trace of amusement.
"That's touching," I murmured, "but then I'd be Leg-less like you..."
I fell asleep to the sound of musical laughter.