The sun had sunk far below the horizon by the time that the guests had started to disperse from the halls. Despite getting several stares as the elves passed, I also got several nods of acknowledgement, which was nice.
Much to my chagrin (and quite out of his usual character), Legolas spared no discretion with his interactions with me; several times he made a point to brush against me or pull me close to him.
"People will talk," I protested at some point, but Legolas only smiled lazily in my direction.
"Let them talk," Legolas said, "Perhaps it will be a welcome reprieve from their repetitive discourses on various councils and alliances."
"I wouldn't want them to--
"I am the Prince," he said, looking at me fondly. "I can do whatever I deem right. And being in your company is high on that list."
I tried to stop smiling so hard; it was making my face hurt. I inclined my head my head towards some other person of importance as they passed. The tapestries shone green and gold, the lanterns shone warmly in the night that slept outside the walls.
"Tomorrow already draws close," Legolas commented. "The dawn will be more beautiful than any other."
"Why?" I frowned, trying to recall names of Elven holidays and trying to figure out if this was what he spoke of.
"Because you will be here to see it," he said, very gently.
*************
"Gianna, ni hathlam hí! (Welcome!)" Tawariel said, smiling, as Faewyn and I ascended the steps into her family's flet in the forest.
"Mae govannen," I said, embracing her. Faewyn's father, Calathir, with jet black hair and a stern face, also came to greet me.
Legolas came next, and he and Calathir greeted each other like old friends as we sat and spoke of what had come to pass.
"It is a great honour to have all of you here with us on this night," Calthir said. "It amazes me how much was accomplished by your labours."
"Gianna," Tawariel said, "I recall when you were young, such a little one, and I cannot believe my eyes to see you so grown."
"Time passes for us all," I agreed. "As such, there is something I must say. I... I cannot stay in Middle-earth, and in fact tomorrow marks the last full day I will have here. I only ask... that you remember me in your hearts always, as I will remember you."
To my surprise, neither Tawariel nor Calathir looked surprised, but rather looked at me with sad understanding.
"The most beautiful flowers are the ones who fade the soonest," said Tawariel. "But it is their beauty and spark which makes them more memorable than those which stay on forever."
**********
The stars were brighter than a thousand tiny suns, and the velvet sky was black.
"I will never sleep again if it means I don't have to wake up to tomorrow."
"The sun and the moon can never be together, and yet they remain in the same sky."
"Is life so unjust?"
"Life is also just."
"What justice is there in this?"
"Truth. The truth is the truth, despite its sharp edges. You are not of this world and it would surely devastate yours if you were to leave it behind forever."
"And you?"
"I would climb up a rope woven of starlight to the farthest reaches of the earth, climb over the mountains which shroud night during the day, and stop the sun from rising so that we would be here forever."
I let the tears fall where they had hovered for weeks. I cared not for appearing calm and emotionless, I cared not for my own self control. My palms were wet where I kept trying to catch the rivers of tears that would not be diverted or stemmed.
He pulled me close, his breath rough and choked. "Gianna."
*************
The morning came and went, up the sun lazily crept until the dew on the grass was no longer.
"Today we will not sit and wait for fate to come for us," said Legolas with conviction.
"Come, Gianna, let us chase the sun."
I rose from the sweet grass and took the Prince's outstretched hand.
**********
I was in a bad mood. The anxiety that had plagued me all day at the upcoming fate-sealing turned bitter when I couldn't find Faewyn.
"The one day I actually--" I growled, kicking at a daisy which grew along the path. Immediately I felt bad. It wasn't the daisy's fault.
"Sorry," I whispered, in spite of myself. The breeze through the flowers made the daisy nod slowly.
I took a deep breath, taking in the whispering words of the spring breeze awakening the slumbering woods. I would find her eventually. I passed three elves, who talked and sang merrily amongst themselves.
"Gi sulion, Gianna (well met)," one of them called, as they walked past.
"A, Tethir (Hello, Tethir)," I smiled, giving him a wave.
As they disappeared around the bend, I thought about this. I knew people here! I knew who they were and where they lived, I was as familiar to them as they were to me.
This was my forest, too, I had shared it for years. It seemed today, of all days, all the beauty and wonder shone out tenfold, begging me to stay and laugh among the trees for as long as I may.
The truth is the truth, despite its sharp edges.
I resumed walking towards one of Faewyn's other haunts, one of the small libraries near to the palace, which all people could visit at any time. It was not any less valuable in knowledge than the King's many libraries, simply less varied-- very specific things were better taken up with the palace librarian.
I walked inside to the smell of parchment and ink, the soft creases in the paper on the tables standing out like geometric paintings amidst the delicate script which adorned them.
A few elves looked up as I entered, but none of them were the elf I was looking for. I trailed my finger along the spines of worn leather on my way out the door.
**************
The early afternoon was pale and warm as I emerged again into the trees.
I found Faewyn outside, astride her horse Nornithil, beaming mischievously, as she always did.
"I've been looking for you forever," I said, all irritation vanishing instantly at the sight of my best friend.
"Not forever, I'm here now," she said, laughing. "I've been looking for you, actually."
"Why?"
"Have you eaten anything yet?"
"No, actually," I frowned, considering the matter. I hadn't even had breakfast, although I had assumed that Legolas-- where was Legolas? He had disappeared when I mentioned looking for Faewyn.
"Well, since it is-- well, would you like to eat something?" she asked noncommittally.
"Of course I would," I laughed.
She pulled me onto her horse and we cantered off through the trees.
"I'm not sure if this will rival the many royal breakfasts you've had," she said thoughtfully, as we continued, Nornithil trotting along the path, "but a meal with friends...
"...will soon make amends," I finished, remembering the saying. "Anything will be good to me today."
She turned in the saddle just a bit so I could see she flashed me a smile before turning around again.
"Here," she said suddenly, reining in her horse.
I was, to be frank, confused.
"Are we eating trees?" I joked, seeing nothing else.
"I did say it would be much unlike the royal feasts you've had," she said pointedly.
I squinted at her. "What?"
"Come on," she said, sighing, "Let's go over here." We walked through the trees a little bit until we stood in the clearing, in which stood a single large tent.
"Why is...?" I trailed off, deciding instead to observe and figure out exactly why Faewyn had promised food when all I saw was shelter. It seemed like she mixed up Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, but I couldn't be sure.
"Gianna, it's nearly afternoon," came a very familiar voice from an ornately carved chair.
"My king?" I said, aghast.
"Yes, and we are to have a modest little feast to celebrate your time here with us," he said, very grandly, stepping onto the grass as if it was normal to find him seated in the middle of the woods. Knowing the king, it would not be a modest feast.
"Why did you...
"Faewyn takes the credit, of course," he said airily, "She was quite insistent that we do something."
"I hardly can find the words to say..." I managed weakly, still confused by the last five minutes.
"Finally, I thought they were going to be late," the king said with annoyance.
Two horse-carts came into view, laden with food and amenities like chairs, and for some reason, wine barrels.
"Did you really need the Dorwinion?" Legolas said, as he leapt down gracefully from one of the horses which walked in front of the entourage. "Is it not too early in the morning for inebriating beverages?"
"As I said earlier," Thranduil said disdainfully, "It's nearly afternoon."
I laughed, and Legolas smiled at me, obviously amused, from where he stood.
"Let us commence," he said, indicating to the other elves that they should begin setting up the various things.
There was a somber feeling, or perhaps I was imagining it, despite the many who came to eat and drink with us. Many of the guard were there, including Faewyn's father, and Maldor, of course. Several other elves I had been friendly with during the extent of my presence in Greenwood.
Despite that I was soon pleasantly full, at a comfortable temperature, and genuinely glad to see all those I held dear, there was not a single minute that I didn't look at the position of the sun and count how many hours I had left.
"Do you recall that time you fell into a tree?" Faewyn commented, spreading butter thickly on a piece of bread.
"Yes," I shuddered, recalling the awful feeling of the pine needles and rough, scaly branches clawing at me on the way down. "That was a trip."
"That was before the stars appeared," Legolas recalled, from where he sat next to me, "Did you not see the White Stag?"
"I did," I nodded. "I almost called him Staggy."
"You did not!" Faewyn said, shocked, her goblet tilting precariously.
"I said almost," I said, laughing.
Legolas almost snorted with laughter. "Staggy," he repeated. "Valar help us."
"Did I ever give back your bow?" I asked, looking at Legolas. "I am not entirely sure where I put it."
"You lost my bow?"
"Of course not. I put it somewhere so safe, I cannot even find it."
We all laughed again.
Maldor stood up from where he sat quietly and went quickly over to greet several elves who had just come to whatever this get-together was.
A festive picnic? A going away party? No, not that last one, I thought firmly. Too soon.
"Come, my friends," Maldor was saying, as he walked back towards us. "Here are faces you have not seen in a while."
"Gilron!" I said, aghast. "Faeldring!"
The two elves who had accompanied us for such a short time acknowledged each of us in turn.
"Well met to you all," Gilron said, smiling. "It brings great joy to us all to hear of all you have done for us, Gianna."
"You helped," I said, self-consciously. "How is your shoulder?"
"Healed," Gilron shrugged. "I hardly recall it. Was it painful?"
Legolas laughed. "Very, mellon nin, more painful for us to watch you suffer, perhaps."
"Ah, no matter, it does not bother me," Gilron said brightly.
The two sat down with our small group and commenced to tell us about their own exploits, how they had made it back to the forest and Gilron was healed, and then how they both went as part of the King's guard to Mithlond and spoke to many of their kin there.
"But it pales in comparison to your own tale, surely!" Faeldring exclaimed.
"The glory is in the telling, not in the doing," Legolas pointed out dryly. "It was hardly a luxurious experience, and much begs to be forgotten."
**********
"The hour is nigh on three past noon," Maldor commented, a seemingly short time later. "How the sun runs away when we beg her to stay."
"Truer words never before spoken," Legolas said, somewhat gravely.
*********
"And now?"
"Ten eggs."
"What? Are there that many hens in all of Arda?!"
"Hush, Gianna, you know the king's chickens alone number in the hundreds."
"But not more than his barrels of Dorwinion."
Legolas looked over interestedly. "This fact I can confirm."
"Legolas, you're cutting the butter wrong," Faewyn said, looking over at where the Prince stood with rolled-up sleeves.
To be honest, I had never pictured Legolas cooking-- he had people to do it for him. But Faewyn had expressed her wish to make a cake for later, and naturally, I volunteered to help.
"It is, in truth, your cake," Faewyn had said earlier. "You should not have to labour at it."
"That is my favorite part," I protested.
"I have never made a cake," Legolas said interestedly.
"We are immediately going to teach you," Faewyn said. "Princeling."
Legolas raised an eyebrow but mirth shone in his deep blue eyes. "Perhaps."
Now, his hands covered in flour up to his forearms, he was attempting to measure the required amount.
"This is-- why-- we -- employ-- people," he grunted, heaving the flour sack over his shoulder and trying to pour some in a bowl.
"You could simply use a spoon to transfer the needed amount of flour in small increments so you do not make a mess," Faewyn said pointedly.
The prince looked confused, then sheepish. "Why in Arda am I doing this?"
"You volunteered," I said brightly, grating an apple.
"I certainly do not recall that event, if it happened."
"It was more of a forced recruitment," Faewyn said thoughtfully, stirring with the practiced ease of someone who did this often.
"Penance." he said, with feigned irritation.
"This is the life of anyone outside your halls," Faewyn said.
"I have always admired those who do so much in addition to their daily jobs and positions," Legolas said seriously, looking at Faewyn, "It is often those who live more simply who have the true strength of the kingdom."
She smiled at him, saying, "You should cook more often."
"This is of greater difficulty than dismembering Orcs," Legolas admitted.
"Such melodrama," I sighed.
"Gia, take my side," Legolas said beseechingly. "These tasks are taxing."
"So is talking to you," I suggested. "Are we ever going to bake this cake?"
Faewyn choked on a laugh and Legolas came up behind me, his eyes glittering.
"Showing cheek to royalty, my, what insubordination," he said smoothly.
"Oh, go sit on an antler chair," I said, rolling my eyes.
The prince wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me towards him.
"Ai, Legolas, you're getting flour on me," I complained, giddy.
"Penance," he said again, very near to my ear this time.
"Cease your horseplay," Faewyn said, though she was smiling at the bowl. "Lunatics."
"Would I, if I could?" Legolas said, raising an eyebrow.
***********
"When do the days lengthen?" I asked, seeing that dusk already crept upon us. The candles flickered in the beginnings of the evening.
"Not a fortnight from today, I believe, if my memory serves," Faewyn said, from the other side of the chessboard.
"So dark, and it is but six thirty!" I said, "Check."
"No, here I take your knight and I am free," she said, knocking my black piece of the board with zeal. "It is strange, especially as spring begins to come."
"When did we leave for Mordor the first time?" I frowned, counting squares-- black-white-black-white.
"It was very nearly autumn, or perhaps the beginning of it," said Faewyn. "Do you recall the time you were worried that Legolas would never see you as anything but a child?"
"Yes," I said, somewhat embarrassedly. "That was so long ago."
"Time is relative," said Faewyn. "Checkmate."
************
"The leaves were long, the grass was green,
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,And in the glade a light was seenOf stars in shadow shimmering.Tinúviel was dancing thereTo music of a pipe unseen,And light of stars was in her hair,And in her raiment glimmering."
The lutes were gentle in the approaching night, a warm string of notes which threaded through the song, which told of Beren's first beholding of Luthien, the fairest elf maiden there ever was.
Many elves, including ourselves (but not technically me) were gathered to hear several of the court musicians perform, which was deliciously sweet and entrancing in the way their voices combined so as to seem like pure magic.
"A most worthy dessert for the king's table," Legolas was saying, indicating at his half-finished piece of cake. The firelight danced in his eyes, and his hair blew lightly around his face with the evening breeze.
"Thank you for the flattery." Faewyn responded. "I am glad it is to everyone's liking."
"I thank the Valar that Legolas did not destroy it." I smirked.
"I am not that bad at cooking," Legolas sniffed.
"The moon rises," Maldor said, from Faewyn's left. "Such light speaks of the heavens."
The moonstone at my throat winked in the ascending dark.