swathed in translucent robes, he has been laying idle in bed, waiting for the return of his king from celebrations. it is  peculiar  to him. long ago, young estel celebrated his begetting in the halls of rivendell, and now kingdoms of men celebrated his birth. time is strange. he had long since excused himself from the event, with quiet promise dropped sultrily against aragorn's ear to... not  FORGET  that he has a present waiting for him.

          when the door finally opened, the ellon stirred, long, smooth body draping barely-covering robes as he shifted, turning his attention to the man. it was shameless, and forward. long legs bare and sleek, painted under soft shades of light, leading toward his torso that so easily showed past undone robe. the graceful curve of his waist, his neck, all skin ready to be bared for aragorn, and only him... hair free of braids, hazel eyes glittering in soft candlelight, legolas gives him a quiet smile.

she had    SEEN HIM    in passing  ;  in the corridors  ,    LURKING    about the halls with    seeming ease    to where his destination was to take him  .  and how odd she found it that he    ( a human )    was given such free roam  . 

“MITHRIL - !”

She hadn’t actually meant to shout, at least not with such temper - not that the gelding wouldn’t dismiss it with a flick of an ear, but she should know well enough to trust his reason. That said, however, the sudden toss of his head had damn near yanked her arm off at the elbow, not to mention startling her out of her skin. She wrestled with the lead rope, caught between trying to get her heart down out of her throat and figuring out what the blazes was going on.

Mithril, for his part, pranced and snorted, grey head high and ears hard forward as he stared off at something in the passing crowd. Thera frowned, her breath finally caught on the realisation he’d actually spotted someone he - and therefore probably they - knew.

                               ❝ HOW strange it is, ❞   remarked Haldir as he beckoned his brothers to lower down their bows.   ❝ Just hours ago we had to slaughter half a pack of Orcs, the rest chased away. They do not always DARE toe the outskirts of the Wood. It is safe to say that something had drawn them near. ❞

Elrond wasn’t going to force him to do anything but he also didn’t want Estel to feel torn in two either. The young man had more he was meant to do an accomplish and if the lord could help him along the way he would but there was a lot that he couldn’t do. It wasn’t up to him it was up the man. All he could do was give council and advice when he felt it was needed but more importantly when it was asked for.

“You must earn their trust and show them that you are more than the boy they will no doubt see you as. Show them the skills you possess, that you can do what is asked of you but also that you can take lead and have knowledge they may not have,” he offered as he paced over to a window to look out upon Imladris and what was here. It would feel empty without Estel here but Elrond didn’t want him to think he was banished and hoped that he knew he was always welcome.

Éowyn couldn’t find her place since they had got back to Edoras from Helm’s Deep after the battle. She felt some kind of excitement that didn’t let her stay at the same place for longer than five minutes. She couldn’t tell what caused this and she even felt ashamed for it. She should have been thinking about the people who had fallen in the battle, shouldn’t she?

After their arrival to Edoras, King Théoden decided to organize a feast to celebrate the victory over Saruman’s army and also to conmemorate the fallen warriors of the battle. Éowyn was amongst the first ones who offered to help with the preparations - this way she could keep herself busy and forget about any strange feelings. Later in the afternoon, she was carrying a huge bowl full of cutlery to the dining hall, when she noticed Aragorn passing through the same corridor. A smile touched her lips as she saw him and also felt her stomach jump a little. “Good afternoon, Aragorn,” she greeted him.

          words were insufficient. how could he explain the turmoil in his chest, one he has  NOT  felt before, through all their loss ?  he is no stranger to death. has borne witness to the departure of many a great man and elf, alike. has seen the carcasses of his kin scattered in his homeland, which had so never been homely to him. he has seen the great battle over erebor, witnessed the death brought by greed, miserable. boromir, his cold corpse, sailing off, though his eyes only perceived the grief of the king-to-be. 

          never before had he  FEARED  death. never before had he mourned it like he does now, the thought of aragorn perishing in the night for a battle he  never  should have fought. and after he had only just returned !  his idealism could only go so far, and the terror of his dearest companion failing in battle left him feeling hollow, hot, and aching.

          legolas did not wish to disturb his peace, before a time of war. he would need his full strength, and the elf would have it no other way. he would not risk any distractions on his mind !  but,  oh,  how he suffered, unable to bear staying too far from his side. and at the news that the man would soon retire, the ellon felt as if time was running out.

          the dúnadan did not  truly  believe this battle to be his last, did he ?

          ❝ —  aragorn,  ❞ came miserable voice, lamentative, between the tickle of beard against his ear, which arose a shudder from the other, and the heavy press of mouth against his. chapped !  miserable as he must have been, carried all the way to their stronghold of the hornburg, skin so dry and lips so harsh on his own. but there was still pleasure to be found, and each fiber of legolas’ being turned toward his heat, as if a flower waxing under the sun.