𝕰𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖆

Chapter Forty-Five: Midwater Port

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Legolas and I forged ahead through the bitter, unrelenting snow which now came down on us in droves. We'd risen before dawn that morning and gotten a move on as early as we could, hoping to arrive in Aerith towards the end of that day. As we lumbered forwards, the snow began to mirror the gradual descent of the mountain peaks, the downfall becoming lighter, and the stuff on the ground looser and less deep. We were soon able to retire some of our heavier garments, like the thick woolen coats. All that day, I could not help but glance continuously over my shoulder and into the mountain range, looking for any sign of fire, any sign that the beacons had been lit and Gondor was calling for aid. But everytime, I was met only with the glaring white of the mountain peaks.

When I looked ahead, thoughts of home took over my mind. Thoughts of the Pines to the west, and the mountains to the south. The castle, its stone work, its paintings, my room. But mostly, my father. I hadn't seen him for months. But more notably, he'd not seen me for months. The last he'd seen me I knew nothing of the prophecy, of my mother, the powers. I wondered how he would greet me. I wondered how I would greet him. Would I be cold and distant, or willing to forgive? Was I willing to forgive all that he'd kept hidden from me? I shook the thoughts from my mind. They weren't important. The only thing that mattered when I arrived home was ensuring that help was secured for Gondor.

When my mind was not lingering on our arrival in Aerith, I thought of the others in Rohan. And mostly, I thought of Aragorn. I felt an overwhelming sympathy in my heart for how he must've been feeling at our parting. The fear that must have weighed heavy in his chest at the impending fate of his kingdom. His people. I knew that feeling all too well. And it was for that reason, and for so many others, that I felt obligated to come to his rescue. To Gondor's rescue. Then, a thought sprung to mind.

"Legolas?"

"Yes?"

"Mui meleth, what do those words mean?" I asked, thinking back to the elvish Aragorn had spoken after my journey had been decided.

"My love," he answered slowly, before turning to face me,  "Why do you wish to know?"

His narrowed eyes perused my face, and I hoped my own eyes did not betray the emotions felt in my racing heart. My love. He'd called me his love. I felt heat rise to my face when I thought of how I'd only stood there stupidly, not knowing the meaning of the phrase Aragorn had just spoken. Then again, he knew I didn't know the translation of his words. He likely thought that I would never know. I brewed over the meaning of his words. Not their translation, but what they really and truly meant. Aragorn had held on to his feelings for me. Though I'd told him to let those feelings go, that he must only feel those things for the elven maiden who held his heart in Rivendell, he'd gone on feeling them towards me. And then I knew I'd done the same. I knew I hadn't let go of my feelings for him either.

"Elena?" Legolas asked, a little forcefully, and I realized I hadn't answered his question.

"Ah, yes, sorry," I shook my head, "I only wondered, because, well, I spoke to Aragorn about Arwen... That is what he'd called her, and I was only curious," I fumbled over my words, praying he did not see through them.

"Oh, right," Legolas nodded, turning back to face the road ahead.

I felt guilt rise into my chest the instant the lie had left my lips. I thought I'd gotten past this lying, the constant feeling of being torn between Legolas and Aragorn. I knew I could not feel this way. It was bad enough to find myself in love with one person in the midst of a war, but to be caught between two? But then, I paused to think.