Of Rohan and Mirkwood

A year and a half passed since the destruction of the Ring, and Rohan was still grasping at the precipice of failure. Eomer-King sat high on his throne in the Golden-Hall, seeking wisdom and council from any who would come to Edoras. South of Rohan, King Aragorn was facing similar distraught with his own people. The world of Men teetered on the brink of destruction; remaining Orc packs threatening everything they had fought so very hard to achieve. With the number suffered on fields of battle, the Riders of the Mark were still far and few between in their numbers. Rohan's male population had suffered greatly. In their desperate need of fortification against the lingering enemy, the task fell into the hands of Holdwyn Daughter of Hama, a true Shield-Maiden of Rohan.

Born and raised within the Golden Hall, Holdwyn had been a survivor of both Saruman's rein over their lands, and Helms Deep. Proving herself ten-times over, it was by her actions-and that of Eomer's sister-that their new King had reinstated the authority of the great Maiden of Rohan. And though today a victory had been won against the Orcs seeking refuge in the Westfold's Hills, there was no joy for Holdwyn. For today marked Theodred's death, and with that bitter reminder came the pain and suffering of losing the man she was to spend her life with. As she sat near his grave and the grave of his father, Theoden-King, Holdwyn hardly noticed the footsteps that approached.

"You have come here more often as of late. His spirit is no longer here, Holdwyn." The voice of her King fell to ears, soon after carried away by the wind.

Holdwyn took in a deep breath, holding in within her lungs until she felt they might burst. Then in releasing it all, she smiled weakly, reaching down for her sword which had been laying to her left. "A little more than a year has passed since his death...coming to terms with it is...difficult."

"He would have made a fine King."

Her eyes shot up towards Eomer's then; contemplating his meaning. Carefully she responded, "Theodred's death was a loss...though not the reason our Kingdom suffers. I believe Eomer-King might usher in a new age; one of peace and prosperity. We have already mended the bonds we once shared with Gondor, and Dwarves to the east."

Eomer offered a small smile then, offering his hand for her to take, helping his friend to her feet. "It is not Aragorn and the Dwarves that concern me...what I am concerned over is hesitant departure of some of our Elven allies. One particular Elven-King, hidden deep within his forest to the North-East."

Holdwyn's brow pulled together, unable to follow Eomer. "My King?"

"While we battled Sauron in the south, Thranduil fought his forces in the north. He too had lost many lives. Now he is trying to salvage what is left, as best as any of us...but not a fortnight ago, a group of Rohirrim were tracking an Orc Pack near his boarder-lands. I've recently received word they are being held as spies in his keep. Hoping it a ruse, I reached out to Aragorn...who said naught on the subject. He has sent word to Thranduil's son, in hopes that his ties with the race of Men might quell his father's rage."

Holdwyn's eyes betrayed her. How long had it been? "Legolas, my lord?"

Eomer having not noticed, nodded. "Aye, and the Dwarf he seems inseparable from. They should arrive within the month."

She looked to the grave of Theodred, then back to Eomer. "Why tell me this?"

"Because, dear friend...I would wish you to travel to the Greenwood with our friends. As my voice before Thranduil."

All she could do was gape.

"And why should we be making our way to Rohan when there are others so desperately in need?" Gimli questioned brusquely, and not for the first time. "All I've had to keep my axe busy on our travels have been small skirmishes, why can't we investigate the rumours of a new Goblin King in the West? There's bound to be a fine chance for competition there."

Legolas's expression twisted into a wry smile as he patiently answered the question that had been posed multiple times during their ride to Rohan.

"To ease the negotiations between the men of Rohan and the elves of Mirkwood," Legolas replied. "It would seem the King's opinion of men has worsened over time, and it would seem the destruction of Sauron has done little to ease his concerns."

"Agh," Gimli huffed. "'tis a sorry state when a son must fix his fathers affairs."

"My presence is merely there as a link between the races," Legolas reiterated smoothly. "It is about politics, not blood ties. You needn't join us, if Mirkwood still causes you discomfort. I'm sure the Riders wouldn't turn down your axe, I've little reason to believe their forces are doing much better than those in other lands. You'll see plenty of action among raiders and orcs, should you wish to wait out the talks elsewhere."

Gimli hummed, but said no more, lapsing into a thoughtful silence as he thumbed the elaborate pommel of his battleaxe with one hand and gripped the reins of his horse with the other.

Legolas let the subject drop, and turned his eyes to the road ahead. He could see the Golden Hall of the King in the distance. They'd have to stop soon, before nightfall, but they should arrive in good time the following day, no later than mid-morning. He'd little information regarding what his father had been up to. He'd somewhat agreed with Gimli, their talents may well be of better use in other regions, but if his father was truly taking men captive with nothing but his own paranoia for reason, then something must be done before it got too far out of hand.

He supposed he'd find out in the morning, when he could meet with Eomer-King and discuss their plans. It had been a time since he'd last seen the man and he supposed that, regardless of the reason, it would be nice to see his old ally again.

[So sorry for the delay!! You're such an intimidating act to follow! :| ]

Darkness gave way to light as the first rays of sun peaked over Edoras. From the east a cool wind was carried, and with it-far off into the distance-small figures on the horizon. Holdwyn had seen them from her watch point, atop her horse. Soon enough, Riders of the Mark would be sent out to retrieve them. Eomer-King most surely would want them brought forthwith.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Holdwyn yawned and ran a hand through her matted hair. It had been a long night, especially pressed to stay awake during the midnight watch. As a ruse she had relieved the guard who would normally stand in for such a shift, telling him his duty to the King was being rewarded by the night off; she had been 'relocated' to the post for the evening. Truthfully, she had wanted to see the sight before her just then. Holdwyn yearned to see the faces of her allies as they approached the Kingdom of Horse Lords.

Though her eyes were strained and bloodshot, she could make out the small form of the Dwarf, Gimli. The red of his great beard impossible to miss; even if one had poor eyesight. Legolas was the other figure, one slightly less obvious to pinpoint, but all the same he was there. The last time the pair had rode up to Edoras, they were accompanied by Gandalf Stormcrow, and Aragorn.... Such dark times were those days...and yet...Holdwyn missed them. She recalled her father meeting them upon the very steps of the Golden Hall--the look he wore still plain as day in her memories. How long ago it all seemed....how far away...

"Holdwyn!" The voice of Eomer rang through the opened doors of Meduseld. "Do riders approach the city?"

With the eyes of her King upon her, the Shield Maiden raised in her saddle-her legs sore and stiff. "Yes my King, they will be here within the hour."

The footfalls of the King's steps against the stones were brisk and rushed. He stopped beside Holdwyn, resting his hand on her steed's neck. So tall was Eomer-King, at six foot six, he nearly rose above the creature's own head. "I would very much like to ride out and meet them...would you see Firefoot readied?"

His friend smiled at her King. He was never one to follow tradition, especially when it came to those who they had fought ardently beside. Eomer wished to greet Legolas and Gimli as friend, not King. "Aye, my lord. I will send word to the stables. We shall ride to meet them together."

Eomer smiled grimly. "I only hoped that it would have been under different circumstances that we greeted them."

(How flattering! Haha, I'm afraid though, I'm an amateur at best. I had to cheat and look up different locations of Kingdoms...and I'm not even sure if Mirkwood is north-east to Rohan or not....xD Oh well, hahahaha! LOVE the way you portray Legolas and Gimli...perfection. ^^)

[LOTR wikia right now is my best friend for the details :p]

Golden Hall grew as the sun rose. Legolas's eyes picked out the guards on watch, although it was another hour or so until the bustle among the watch posts indicated they'd been spotted too.

"It looks as if we're to have a royal greeting," Legolas commented to Gimli. "Eomer-King is preparing to ride."

"Royal greeting or not," Gimli grumbled, "Hospitality means nothing until I'm out of this cursed saddle."

Legolas dipped his head to hide a grin, riding had never been Gimli's strong point, although he'd warmed to it after the prospect of running across the countries once again. He stayed silent, however, letting his friend's gravelly complaints wash over him as he watched the approaching riders.

Eomer was among the riders, as to be expected, and by his side a young woman with fiery red hair that could rival Gimli's. Legolas recognised the woman, there were few faces he forgot, no matter how fleeting the glimpse. She had been in the crowd that had gathered to watch their arrival, and then later, with the Captain of the Kings Guard. The resemblance was strong in the red hair and curve of her brow, and he suspected the young woman had been Captain Hama's daughter. His heart clenched for a moment, recalling the warg he'd slayed and how it had fallen away to reveal the man's body underneath. This woman had known loss, but then there were few who'd escaped it these past years.

"Hail, Eomer-King," Legolas called once they were within distance, Gimli repeating the greeting a beat behind.

He bowed in his saddle as they reached the King, before reaching out and grasping the mans forearm warmly.

"It is good to see you, my friend," he said. "Even in these tenuous times."

Holdwyn sat high in her saddle watching expectedly as her King greeted their friends of old. The voices of both the Elf and Dwarf fell to her ears with deep reminiscing. Only two faces were missing... Two people away from making this encounter a true reunion. She longed for the images of Eowyn and Aragorn. Albeit, the presence of Gimli and Legolas brought a small, coy smile to her lips.

"What news from Gondor, old friends?" Eomer-King's voice boomed against the open landscape. His Captain smiled at her King's joy. It had been weeks since Holdwyn had seen Eomer so colorful. However, being in the open land outside the gates was dangerous. A calculated risk to be sure.

She risked an interruption, "We should not linger in the open, Sire. Perhaps news of our brother King Aragorn might wait until we are safe within the city's walls?" She sat uncomfortably atop her after then, with all eyes of the party on her own. Holdwyn offered no smile, but met the gazes of Gimli and Legolas. The Dwarf's eyes however, shifted between his traveling companion and the Shield Maiden. One might interpret such an expression as mischievous. Legolas on the other end of the scale, was unreadable to Holdwyn. Elves were a mystery. His cerulean eyes burned her cooly and for a spell, seemingly piercing through her body. Then, a glint burst with them and her trained senses gave way to another realization entirely. Noticing the ellon reaching for his bow, the Shield Maiden drew her own sword.

Looking to a man under her command, Holdwyn circled around Eomer. "Hurry the King to Edoras! Orc pack!"

She smiled grimly as Gimli's anxious voice holllered out in excitement. Perhaps the old days weren't behind them after all. The only difference this time around, was the goal of keeping Rohan's only heir, alive.

Before Legolas could reply, the woman besides Eomer spoke. They must be close, he supposed, to have her advise Eomer-King so boldly, in an interruption no less. His eyes rested on her, assessing her with mild interest until sounds in the west pulled his attention away.

He ignored the woman's cry as he lifted his bow, reaching behind himself to draw an arrow. With his knees and thighs, he guided his mount away from the group for a clearer shot. He let an arrow fly as Gimli's excited cries filled the air, and watched as his targets Warg was downed, taking the rider with it.

"We'll take the rear," he called out to the riders as they surrounded the King, riding towards the approaching Orc pack. Their numbers own numbers were greater, but with Heir's to the throne so scarce these days, and with the political situation as it was, it was important to be overly cautious than less.

He urged his horse forwards as Gimli overtook him, hollering another battle cry as he swung his axe in perparation. Legolas let a continuous flurry of arrows fly as the enemy neared.

Holdwyn rounded her horse, nodding to the Elf as his arrow shot true. The hollering of the Dwarf filled the surrounding men with the courage to press on, though their King could hardly be stayed from a fight. Swinging her sword to hit the neck of an Orc, more than a few things were taken into her mind. For one, Eomer-King had found himself a lance, skewering wargs and their riders, left and right. Secondly, the creatures atop the beasts may have first been seen as Orcs...but at closer examination, some seemed to breed and stink of Goblin filth. They must have been mercenaries from the Misty Mountains.

As her King was ridden out of the fray--much to his dismay--Holdwyn pressed her heels to her steed, urging him to press back to the aid of Legolas and Gimli. Through the chaos that ensued, she was almost certain that the small stature of the Durin Folk had been nonchalantly rambling off numbers after each monstrosity was slain by his great war ax. At least those two had not lost their spirits. As for Holdwyn...the unwelcomed sight of the wargs burned her to her core. They were demons she had yet learned to face head on. In place of their ugly masks stood the ghost of her father and the destruction of her whole life. Finding strength enough to cut into another Orc then Goblin, the Shield Maiden had left the great ugly beasts they rode to the hands of her allies.

From her horse, she swung her sword true, biting into the armor of her enemies, staining the blade with the rancid black blood. Just as she cut yet another down, a warg leaped from rock overlay, aiming for Holdwyn's body. Ducking just as the claws of the beast struck her horse's flank, she was still thrown to the ground...her steed now lifeless. She stood up, placing her shield onto her forearm and in holding it close to her body, she drove her sword into the mouth of the monster that stalked her. It's rider throwing down at her a swipe from its own crudely made blade. The impact was subtle at first, almost nonexistent. Though time would prove that it was more substantial a wound to her shoulder than she initially expected. By the time her battle with the Goblin rider had ended with a decapitation, her end was cleared...a few scattered riders retreated back into the Westfold. If she had still had her horse, Holdwyn would have chased after them.

Standing her sword still firmly in her grasp, resting against her wound to stay the bleeding, she shouted in her native tongue; cursing the foul creatures and shouting victory to her allies. She grimly nodded to Gimli, reaching out for either him or his Elven companion to allow her space to ride with them. A stinging began to seep into her skin. She would need to see the healers within the Golden Hall. Even so, it was not of terrible concern. She had suffered worse at Helms Deep by the hands of Uruk-Hai.

"We would may fair better this day if our ranks weren't so depleted." Holdwyn shouted to the two before her. "They say they are held prisoner by the King of the Elves of Northern Mirkwood....thankfully this day, his cruelty upon us did not hold sway." There was no denying her direct insult towards Legolas, but her own pride was wounded. It was impossible to understand the Elves and their culture...Holdwyn could not understand how the son of a King could fight beside her kin, while his father imprisoned them. It made her bitter. "Let us go, now...I'm in need of healing...if we stay long they will return and without my horse I will only burden you."

She smiled over at Gimli on his own steed. "I never thought I'd see the day when a dwarf stood taller than I, master Gimli."

--

Within the Halls of Meduseld, Holdwyn received the proper treatment for her wounds. Her session with the healer had ended just in time for her to attend the feasting; in honor of their esteemed guests. 'The Protectors and Friends of Rohan', so dubbed by Eomer. Holdywn found the gesture kind, though perhaps a bit overdone. The Protectors of Rohan were its Rohirrim...the Riders the Mark. Her people were her guards. However, calling Legolas and Gimli friends was also lacking. There were no words to describe the companionship they all shared.

Still in her armor, Holdwyn rounded the corner of the hall to see Gimli drinking deeply. "Hail, master dwarf. Where is your Elven friend?"

Once the short fight drew to an end, the retreating riders picked off by his arrows, Legolas dismounted from his horse and stalked through the bodies that lay on the floor. The metallic scent of human blood bit through the acridity of the goblin's, and he spared a look over to the woman. She was still standing, although her mount was slain, and her hand was pressed to her wound. She seemed not to be in mortal danger, so he continued to collect those arrows that had stayed whole, and those that could be repaired, as Gimli approached the Shield Maiden.

Her insult to his father rang clear in the still air, even the wildlife having been scared silent from the sounds and smells of battle. But he chose to say nothing. She was young, he thought. She understood little, would still understand little by the time she reached her death. It was the way of her race.

Gimli answered, all the same.

"Aye, 'twud be true, perhaps," Gimli agreed. "But isn't that what we're here for, lass? Discussions with the King of the Elves. A day earlier and you'd have naught but your own patrols to run into these foul beasts. Losses would have felt greater then."

Gimli reached a hand down to the woman, chuckling merrily.

"'tis too marvelous a sight to be commonly beheld," the dwarf told her, hauling her up into his saddle. "Why else would we be so close to the ground, were it not to protect those around us."

--

Gimli grunted in acknowledgment, face deep in his cup. He drained the last of his mead, sighing in satisfaction.

"Hail, lassy," he replied eventually. "Last I saw of him he was tending his mount, although if you've seen that king of yours around, he may have sought him out." Gimli then grinned wickedly, reaching for another tankard. "Or perhaps you've made your distaste for his lineage known, and he wishes to stay clear of angering Eomer-King's right hand woman."

Holdwyn did not speak again to Gimli, but grabbed a decanter from the table in front of him, filling his cup and offering a smile. It was true, what the Dwarf has said. She has venomously attacked Legolas and moreover his father; a King in his own right. If progress was to commence between their peoples, then she would need to hold her tongue in the future. Though now a apology would suffice.

Crowded as the hall was, Holdwyn maneuvered with ease through the throngs of drunkards and merrymakers. Taking care to avoid hitting her shoulder, she danced in and out of the traffic, passed the great fire which warmed Meduseld. By the time she reached the front steps, a familiar hand fell to her shoulder.

"Do you always avoid festivities?" Eomer's voice was low, the tone of concern clear. "I would have you smile again. The way you had before-when we were children."

Holdwyn sucked in a sharp breath. "The way it was when Theodred was alive?"

When her King did not answer, Holdwyn knew not to expect one from him. It wasn't in his nature to openly speak of his cousin. Not when others were so near. Eomer was no stranger to death, but with his sister married to Faramir and away in Gondor, he was alone without kin, same as his Captain.

"If you would grant me leave, my lord-- I owe our Elf-friend an apology. It seems I have slandered the name of his father... An act that may reflect poorly on you."

"Aye... See Eodred as well. He will give you a replacement for the steed you lost this day."

She held her hand to her heart, offering her appreciation as best she could with her arm wounded. Then, descending the stair of Meduseld, walked the slow trek to the Royal stables. Before entering, her grey eyes peered up into the starry skies. The constellation of the great hunter gazed back at her and for a moment she was lost in time. Somewhere in those heavens above, Theoden-King..... And Theodred stared down at her. Giving her the strength to face her demons and right the wrong and had performed against the Elven Prince. With a release of a hot breath which plumbed in the air around her, Holdwyn drew open the stable doors and called out. "My Lord Legolas, are you within?"
She waited.

Legolas was brushing through his mount's mane, ridding it of the dirt and grime from a long ride and a short fight. He soothed Arod in his native tongue as he worked. The horse was intelligent for it's breed, and whilst he would never reach the levels of the Mearas, Legolas could sense some recognition within the beast whenever he uttered more common words or commands in his tongue.

Footsteps pricked at the edges of his senses, although carried the scent of old blood and hurt rather than the heady scent of alcohol from the festivities. It came as no surprise when his name was called, for why else would the Shield Maiden be here, with her mount slain and none to tend to?

He set down the brush, dusting his hands of grime as he emerged from the stall.

"Captain," he greeted with a nod of his head. "Hama's daughter, is it not? What do you wish of me?"

"It is," Holdwyn sighed, "I've come to offer my thanks, and apology. It would seem I spoke out of term and with anger in my heart." Worlds of reconciliation fell short as she glanced around the stables. "I know my words must mean naught...my resentment nothing more than the musings of a mortal. Though the men your King holds within his dungeons are my kin; I should not have spoken out of turn."

It was the best Holdwyn could muster, averting her eyes at every turn, fearful of what she might find in the Elf's. Whether it be scorn or forgiveness--perhaps even something more sinister--she was not prepared to face it. So instead Holdwyn nodded once as affirmation to the end of her anecdote, sliding her way into a stall to tend to a horse who's owner she didn't know. A poor excuse to keep herself busy. Still, she could feel the eyes of Legolas on her. The silence was unbearable. "The Dwarf you travel with seems to believe you strayed from the festivities of the feast for fear of angering me." She smiled. "Though I do not see the son of Thranduil fearing much."

"The emotions of mortal's burn bright and fast," Legolas said, once he was sure the woman before him had finished speaking. "With your lives so short, what would it do to waste them? We elves, we can have all the time we please to ease through our passions. You need not apologise for speaking true of your heart."

He offered a slight smile, and stepped towards the Shield Maiden.

"Gimli speaks too much and too loud," Legolas commented, amusement evident in his voice. "Particularly after he's gotten some drink in him. It is not fear that keeps me from your feast. I simply have no wish to tempt others with thoughts such as yours, especially when they've not got their senses about them. Tradition dictates certain things, and I should not wish trouble on Eomer-King should one of his people speak their mind. Even if just for appearances sake. It shall be easier for your people to have their feasting without fear of speaking ill of a King to his heir."

Legolas made his way out the stable building, turning to look at Holdwyn as he walked.

"I should like to speak to Eomer, however. It has been too long since we last met outside a battlefield, distracted as I'm sure he is now with his duties."

Eomer-King sat on the steps outside Meduseld, his head in his hand. Behind him, guards were ever watchful. Normally the task would have been given to Holdwyn. Yet to be free of that woman with her overbearing and protective ways was a well met reprieve. He know knew why Theoden had often been in a horrid mood--his Captain of the Guard never let him be: Hama never let him be. Eomer laughed silently. Holdwyn had adopted the trait from her father.

The King's mood shifted then as his mind drifted to the fiery woman. He realised that all too soon she would be leaving his side. Eomer would miss her constant bickering, fighting, and prodding. She knew how to council him without demeaning him and all the while letting him know exactly how stupid he had been, in whatever it was he had been doing. Holdwyn had been groomed to be a queen. She had grown into a soldier. A funny thing was fate, he thought. To lead you to believe you are to follow one path, then tear you from it and place you in another. The same had happened to him. Perhaps he could give Holdwyn the crown and he could wear the armor....his hand fell him his face as he laughed out loud that time.

His eyes then caught sight of Legolas, leaving the stables from where Eomer had seen Holdwyn enter. He pondered it a moment, expecting his guard to follow. Shortly she did, though it wasn't in follow pursuit of Legolas. She was leading out a new horse, saddled and ready for its new master. Eomer realized that this night, Holdwyn would ride her new mount, if only to know its faults and strengths. Her King envied her. How he longed to be able to break free and ride...the way he used to.

Having caught Legolas within his sights again, Eomer rose to meet him. "Well met, old friend...your face looks troubled."

"Have you had much practise reading faces since you were crowned?" Legolas asked with a small smile, reaching out to grip Eomer's forearm. "Or are your words situational?"

He turned to watch Holdwyn as she walked her new horse, eventually mounting it and beginning to ride.

"Perhaps I am troubled," Legolas admitted after a moment. "When Frodo rid our world of the ring, it seemed like the end of troubles. But we've not been so lucky."

He fell silent once more, watching the young captain out the horse through its paces. Words were hard to come by, situations as they were. Eomer may be a friend and ally, but he was also a king. Legolas may have fought his side in the battles, but he was the prince of the kingdom holding Rohans people as captives.

"My apologies for being absent during the feasting," he said eventually. "I did not wish to snub your hospitality, but I felt it may make your people more at ease without the reminder. I'm aware your forces are further weakened by my father's actions, just the same as I'm aware your people are angered by it. Understandably so, I bear no ill will towards their emotions. It is just... simpler this way."

"Nothing has been more complicated, to the contrary." Eomer chose his words carefully, weighing his thoughts heavily against his tongue. "Truthfully speaking, only those within Meduseld know of what Thranduil has done. Holdwyn holds her opinions stubbornly. Her love for Rohan is deep. The men in your father's halls are her brothers."

Sighing, Eomer scratched his beard, looking out upon the Captain in the distance. Silently he wondered if had been the best of ideas to send Holdwyn in his stead.... What with all he knew of her views and personal political standings with elves. Knowing how she had once admired the son of Thranduil for his honor and compassion at Helms Deep. That view now tarnished by the deeds of a sour King. In honesty, he has no idea how she might react. Instead of returning his men and securing peace, Eomer might suffer the execution of his Captain at the hands of Thranduil. Holdwyn was not beyond losing her temper and spewing bitter insults.

"She admired you once..." He mused, more to himself than Legolas. "Your dedication to the young and elderly who fought at Helms Deep. The first time anyone saw her smile since Theodred's death. Not dissimilar to Eowyn's admiration for Aragorn." He stopped a moment, now aware he spoke his words aloud. With sincerity, he offered Legolas a smile. "It's not the emotions of the Rohirrim you must concern yourself with... They see you as a loyal friend. But perhaps you might consider the confusion of a woman who until now-knowing her comrades are in captivity by your father... cared deeply for you." Eomer held his tongue then. There was a long silence.

The night air grew cold and while his Captain was still away, the King voiced his concern. "Take care that she doesn't get herself killed. Her heart and arm is true, but her tongue could insult even an orc."

"It seems her fiery hair reflects her soul," Legolas mused, almost amused were it not for the tone of the evening. "I've found it always to be so."

Gimli and Tauriel. Both forces to be reckoned with, in their own way. Some more gruff than others. He idly wondered if it were to be his fate, to be tossed in with stubborn redheads and their all encompassing personalities.

There was a pause as he thought.

"As a race, we've long since been used to our appeal to mortals," he said eventually. "Their admiration's and infatuations come fleetingly, and burn for as long as a candle in the wind for us. It is of no matter, her confusion will resolve itself. As, I hope, the situation does too. I should like to see it end in peace, but as you say, my father, and my king... well, it has been many years since we have communicated in more that writing. I know not what he holds in his heart, he has long since mastered deception and disguise for things he does not wish others to see."

His thoughts flickered to his father's scar, the gaping cavern in his face that had both scared and fascinated him so as a child. He wondered if it still pained him, even with middle earth rid of the stench and aura of evil.

Legolas looked to Eomer, brow furrowed.

"Are you sure you wish to send your captain, if there is risk of her tongue biting where it should not? I shall do my best, of course. But discussions with Thranduil in a political setting are comparable to journeying through Mirkwood with nothing but a wooden sword. I know not what his intentions have been or will be, and in certain situations, as heir to the throne, my hands will be tied."

"Holdwyn is my voice in my absence." Eomer stated dryly. "Once future queen to my people. War has changed her, but her heart is still true to that fact."

Eomer-King understood why Legolas might see his decision in sending his Captain dangerous. Everyone who shared boarder-lands with the Elven-King knew his tolerance for insolence. However, Holdwyn was the only soul Eomer trusted to speak plainly and true on his behalf. She would not fail him.

The King of Rohan noticed his Captain returning from her patrol outside the city, leading her new mount with ease back into the stables. The beast was rather large for her. Eomer smiled at the sight; her control rivaling the best horse-masters in the land. "She will do fine. I have confidence in it. After all, there is no better voice for our men than hers. She knows first-hand the battles we have fought and the strife both our people and yours have endured. Thranduil will see that...I can hope." His last words fell from his lips in doubt. "At daylight you leave for Mirkwood."

As those words closed in to silence, Holdwyn climbed the stone steps. "My King...My Lord Legolas..." Her voice was heavy from her ride and wounded arm. "How goes the festivities?"

Seeing the look upon each of their faces, and taking note that the subject they had been conversing of was indeed of her and their journey, she sighed. "Come Legolas...share a drink with me so I might talk with you." She shared a glance with Eomer. "The details of your home and your King will help me to better understand his reasoning behind this mess."

*I know this sounds so filler-like...I'm sorry.*

[No prob! Sometimes filler things are needed.]

Legolas inclined his head to Eomer-King in farewell, following Holdwyn through into the great hall.

"A brief talk," he told her. "For your wound will need rest before we ride at dawn."

He collected two full cups as he moved through the hall, settling at one of the long wooden tables in a quieter corner to the rowdiness of the other festivities. He set one cup before Holdwyn, and turned his own between his palms, watching the ripples of the liquid. Legolas gave the captain a moment to settle in her seat, keeping his gaze fixed on the amber liquid should she wince at her wound and consider it weakness. Flesh was delicate, even in elves, and battle wounds were a part of life. Pain was a part of life. But humans had a fierce grip on their pride, this one even more so it would seem.

"If you'd tell me what you wish to know," Legolas started eventually, looking up at the woman before him. "I shall answer to the best of my ability. But it has been an age since I have seen my King in person, and contacted him outside of letters. More than a lifetime, for one such as yourself. But half a century can go past in the blink of an eye, so perhaps not much has changed at all."