"Damn it!" Legolas screamed in frustration as he slammed his fists down against the mattress. Angry tears stung the corners of his eyes as he sat for a moment, breathing hard to catch his breath. Holding back a sob, the elf again rose his hands to the side of his head and grabbed hold of a section of pulled-back forelocks.

Right. Left. Over. Under. Right. Left. Over. Under.

He tried to make his fingers remember the familiar motions, but they felt clumsy and awkward in carrying out the desired task. Cursing under his breath, Legolas continued to try and weave the familiar pattern of warrior braids into his hair. But despite his keen elven memory of the old, daily routine which he once could have done with his eyes shut, he could not seem to make his fingers find the rhythm that had once let his fingers practically fly through the silky strands of golden hair.

He had somehow managed to run a small braid from the corner of his left temple back across the side of his head, but it lay against his skull loose and disheveled – like that of a young child’s first attempt at styling his own hair without the aid of any adult. Strands of wayward hair messily poked up out of the weaves of Legolas’ braid where he had had to momentarily abandon his work when the weight of his arms had become too much for his wasted muscles to hold up any longer without taking a short reprieve.

It had taken nearly eight attempts to finally finish off the braid on his left side. And now it seemed as if his right side was not about to make his life any easier either. (He did not even want to think about trying to do the main braid that was to hang down his back just yet.) His arms and shoulders ached from trying to keep his arms up over his head to weave the small, intricate braids. His arms felt like hundred pound weights. His wasted muscles stung and burned with the effort of trying to keep them aloft for so long. Legolas grit his teeth against the pain, but despite his stubbornness and determination he could not seem to stop his arms from slowly sagging back down to his sides.

As the pain became too much for his to stand anymore once again, Legolas let his arms fall back down to the mattress. He wanted to cry in frustration. He had only managed to braid about an inch or two of hair. The rest of the uncompleted braid hung down the side of his face like a frayed and tattered rope. Legolas tried to raise his arms to take up the motion again before the strands of braided hair could unravel, but they were just too heavy.

A flood of emotions welled up inside him; all some varying form of self-pity and disgust. It had been almost a week since he had woken out of his coma. Elladan and Elrohir – his ‘torturers’ as he now so affectionately liked to call them – had begun work to rehabilitate his withered muscles. It was starting to become increasing clear to Legolas that there was a long and painful road ahead of him before he would be able to walk again. His legs seemed to have suffered the most from his five year’s slumber. Both had withered away to only wasted, rail-thin remains. His left leg was the worst. The muscles and ligaments had deteriorated so much that it had begun to curl up beneath him. Even with the twins’ help, he could not yet fully extend it or put any real weight on either of his legs.

He could feel tears building up in his eyes again, threatening to overflow his defenses. He felt so helpless. He couldn’t even braid his own hair! Let alone get up to relieve himself without the aid of someone else.

But that was not it. Oh no! Far from it! Not only was he incapable of caring for himself, but his friends were now afraid of him. Oh, they faithfully came to see him everyday to offer him encouragement and support as Elrohir and Elladan continued to work everyday with him to help rebuild his muscles, but there was a certain wariness surrounding them that he could sense like a palpable aura of suspicion and fear. He could see it in their eyes, that look that said they saw him as something like a dangerous animal that could potentially attack them if they were not careful. Though they tried to hide it, he knew they always did everything they could to avoid touching him. After his last encounters with Gimli and Elrond, he could not really blame them, but it still hurt him deep inside to know that some of the closest people in his life were actually afraid of him.

He had not had any other visions like the one he had had with Gimli. But during his sessions with Elladan and Elrohir he had experienced several momentary flash of emotions, or seen some kind of fragmented thought or image in his head as if one of the twins’ thoughts or feelings had actually transferred over into his mind whenever they helped him through his rehabilitory exercises. He had once even known several seconds before it actually happened that Elrohir was going to accidentally knock over a glass of water sitting on the nightstand of his bed. He never mentioned what he saw or felt, but he somehow knew the twins were aware of what was being exchanged between them whenever they touched him.

He pounded his fists into the mattress angrily. It was so unfair! What did he ever do to deserve this? It had been over five years since his accident, but to him it felt like only yesterday he had been the strong, able-bodied warrior prince of Mirkwood. Not this pitiful invalid and freak of nature he had become.

Trying to hold back his emotions, Legolas reached up and grabbed hold of half-finished braid dangling by his ear. He was not going to admit defeat! He didn’t care if it took him all day, he was going to wear his hair in braids! It was the last thing he had left to connect him to that distant past before his accident. Breathing hard as he worked, the elf struggled to weave his hair into the familiar pattern of warrior braids.

Legolas was so focused on what he was doing, he did not hear the door to his room softly creak open. Filing into the room one after another came the twin sons of Elrond. As they were most often known to do, the two brothers were identically dressed in robes of russet red. In the youngest twin’s hands, Elrohir carried a wooden tray laden with a small pot of tea, a bowl of steaming broth, some sliced fruit, and several small breakfast pastries.

"Good morning, Legolas!" Elladan called out merrily, walking straight for the elven prince’s bed with his brother following close behind him. He was rewarded with only a miserable scowl from Legolas as the elf gave a frustrated cry and dropped his arms back down to his sides.

"I can’t braid my hair!" Legolas cried out angrily, totally ignoring the other’s friendly greeting. Frustrated tears brimmed along the bottoms of his eyes. Balling his hands into fists, the elven prince shouted through gritted teeth, "I’ve been trying all morning but I can’t do it! I just can’t do it!" By now, the terribly thin elf had begun to shake with building emotions, a hollow sob escaping his throat as a helpless tear streaked down his cheek.

"Legolas, it’s alright. It’s ok," Elrohir tried to consol as he quickly set the tray he was carrying aside on the mattress near the foot of Legolas’ bed and moved to the shaking elf’s side. "It’s alright. It’s alright," he whispered soothingly as he sat down beside Legolas and put a reassuring arm around the other elf’s shoulder. "It’s alright..."

"No. Don’t touch me," Legolas hissed as he quickly shrugged Elrohir’s arm from around him, "You know I don’t like being touched ever since the accident."

"Legolas, don’t start with this again," Elladan sighed in exasperation, "You’re going to have to let us touch you eventually if you ever want us to help you rehabilitate your body."

"Elladan’s right," his twin agreed, "We can help you, but only if you let us."

"Here, let us help you with your hair," Elladan said as he sat on the other side of Legolas’ bed. Using his fingers like a comb, the elf gently ran them through the small, disheveled braid running along the left side of Legolas’ head, quickly destroying in only a matter of seconds what had taken Legolas almost half an hour to create.

Legolas said nothing, but dejectedly sat there in silence as the two brothers began to section off his hair into three different parts and then begin to deftly plait his hair into the familiar pattern of elven warrior braids.

"If you need help like this again, just ask us, Legolas," Elrohir said from behind him as he began to weave the main braid that would hang down the length of Legolas’ back, "We don’t mind..."

"I don’t want to have to ask for help," Legolas whispered bitterly as Elrohir completed the back braid and moved on to do the smaller one that would run along the right side of Legolas’ head.

"We understand that," Elrohir replied, "But right now there is not much you can do without some kind of assistance." Elrohir’s words bit deep and Legolas tried to ignore the sting of wounded pride welling up inside him at the blatantly voiced fact. "There!" the younger twin then finally announced in a false voice of cheerfulness as he dropped the finished braid down onto Legolas’ shoulder, "All done!"

"Here, Legolas," Elladan said as he handed the prince a small hand mirror that had been lying on a nearby nightstand. "See, we’re not that bad at braiding hair," he tried to joke and lighten the other elf’s mood.

Legolas said nothing and just quietly stared down into proffered mirror. His silvery reflection stared back up at him – a face he no longer recognized as his own. His cheeks were sunken and unhealthily pale in complection. Skeletal cheekbones protruded from his face beneath pronounced eyebrow ridges, giving him an emaciated, half-starved appearance.

Though his hair was finally pulled back into the familiar style of warrior braids which he had worn since his coming of age over two millennia ago, he did not feel any better like he thought he might. For woven throughout the delicate braid Elladan had braided along the left side of his head were several streaks of pure white hair, the stark reminder of how he had come to be in such a wretched state of helplessness. Suddenly feeling even more depressed than he had before the twins had come in, Legolas wordlessly handed the hand mirror back to Elladan.

"Come on now," Elrohir said blithely, noticing the despondent look forming on Legolas’ face and trying to redirect his friend’s attention, "We’ve brought you some breakfast, so eat up before it gets cold."

"I’m not hungry," Legolas said simply, turning his face away from the two brothers.

"Legolas, you’re too thin to not be eating," Elladan said as he reached down towards the foot of Legolas’ bed and lifted the laden breakfast tray up into the elven prince’s lap, "You need to regain your strength. That is one of the reasons you’re having so much trouble with your physical therapy. You’re too weak, you have no strength. One of the first things you need to do is get your energy back."

"I know what I have to do!" Legolas snapped angrily, "I do not need you reminding me of how helpless I am. Just leave me alone." Elrohir and Elladan both looked at Legolas startled.

"Legolas– " Elladan began.

"No!" Legolas cut off sharply, "Don’t say anything else! I don’t want any more of your empty reassurances or advice telling me what I need to do to get better. Just go away and leave me alone."

"Legolas, you still have your physical therapy with us today," Elrohir pointed out.

"I don’t care. Just leave me alone," the elf murmured dispiritedly as he pushed the breakfast tray out of his lap and lay down on his side with his back to Elrohir.

Elrohir frowned at Legolas’ childish actions. "Legolas–"

"Just leave me alone."

Elrohir and Elladan shared a helpless look with each other. "Fine," Elrohir said as he stood from Legolas bed, "We’ll leave the tray in case you change your mind about breakfast later on." He got no response from the elf’s turned back. Elrohir shared another quick glance with Elladan who had followed his brother’s example and had also stood to leave. He wanted to say something else to Legolas to break him out of this melancholic mood he was in, but could not think of anything appropriate to say. Sighing in deep frustration, Elrohir turned towards the door. "I hope you feel better," was all he said before finally slipped out of the room, leaving the elf alone with his despair.

As Legolas heard the soft snick of the door close behind the retreating twins, he felt whatever emotional restraint that had been holding him together suddenly shatter like a dropped piece of glass somewhere deep inside him. Sobbing helplessly, the elf burrowed his face into the pillows and began to weep bitterly, letting all his self-pity and despair consume him. And so began the first – but not last – of Legolas’ dark depressions.

******

"Eowyn, please. We really think this would be a good way to break Legolas out of this depression he’s in," Elladan begged.

The White Lady looked torn with indecision. "It’s not that I don’t want to help Legolas, but do you really think it wise to do such a thing when he’s still in such a despondent mood?"

"Eowyn, this is the only thing we can think of that might have a positive impact on him," Elrohir said, desperately trying to convince the lady to listen to their proposition. "He’s not getting any better. He’s refused to let us work with him for two days now, and he’s not eating which he can barely afford to do. Gimli is the only one Legolas seems to let near him for any extended period of time, but even then, Gimli isn’t able to get Legolas to snap out of this depression he’s in. We have to break him out of this funk before this gets any more serious."

Eowyn did not respond at first and seemed to become lost in worrisome thought. "Please," Elrohir begged, turning his attention now to Eowyn’s husband, Faramir, who had sat through the entirety of the elven twins’ proposed solution to Legolas’ depression in thoughtful silence, "We don’t know what else to do..."

Faramir looked up at his wife. "It could really do no harm," he said, "You know how Legolas used to be. I agree with Elladan and Elrohir. This may be just what Legolas needs right now."

Eowyn began to nervously pace, her face twisted with some unreadable emotion. "Like I said, it is not that I do not want to help Legolas, but..." She trailed off helplessly as she abruptly stopped her pacing in front of one of the windows lining the side of the room and looked out over the city beyond. She stood for several moments of tense silence. "It’s just..." she started again as she tried to put her gnawing concerns into words, "It’s just that... What about these psychic powers he seems to suddenly possess?" She turned back around to face her husband with unmasked fear shining in her pale blue eyes.

"I will not try to fool myself or you by saying that I know or understand what has happened to our friend because of his accident, but I feel that it is something dark and unnatural. He scares me, though I still cannot help but see him as our dear friend. I do not know if I believe he truly sees what he thinks he does. Lord Elrond’s explanation of how Legolas could have known of what happened in the Glittering Caves just makes too much sense to me to ignore. But even if these powers of his are not real, I fear them and the implications of supernatural forces they bring. And I do not want to endanger anyone just because we were too rash to take some kind of preliminary precaution with him. Legolas has changed... I just do not know if it is safe to risk what Elladan and Elrohir propose. What if something should happen like what happened with Gimli? I just do not know if this is such a good idea..." By now, Eowyn’s fear had begun to surface in a bright shine of frightened tears in her eyes.

"Eowyn..." Faramir said, quickly getting to his feet and striding over to his wife. The Steward gently wrapped her in his embrace and held her to his chest. "I know how you must feel, but nothing bad will happen. I promise. We’ll be there the entire time. Nothing will happen."

The woman only clung to her husband, desperately trying to make herself believe his reassuring words. "Legolas needs our help right now," Faramir whispered softly into her ear, "Like Elrohir and Elladan said, we might be the only ones that can help him. We owe it to him as our friend to help..."

"Alright," Eowyn finally said in reluctant submission after a long moment as she looked back up at the elven twins who stood anxiously waiting for her answer on the other side of the room, "Alright. We’ll do it."

******

There came a soft rapping at Legolas’ door which Legolas at first chose to ignore, vainly hoping that whoever it was would just go away and leave him in peace if he didn’t answer. Another, more insistent, knock sounded. Legolas sighed and looked up at the closed door from where he sat in his bed.

"Who is it?" he called out with a clear note of annoyance in his voice.

He didn’t want to see anyone right now. Hadn’t he made that clear by now? He didn’t want to have to deal with any visiting friends. He was tired of seeing that tell-tale shine of apprehension in their eyes whenever they came to see him, that fear and suspicion that practically screamed at him from behind their facades of smiling, friendly faces. The only one who did not seem truly frightened of him was Gimli. But even so, he did not feel like entertaining his bearded friend with his company right now.

There came no actual reply from the other side of the door, but it slowly swung open at the sound of his voice. Striding inside came the elven twins Elrohir and Elladan.

"Hello, Legolas," Elrohir chirped merrily, ignoring the disheartened frown that was spreading across his friend’s face.

"I don’t want any company right now," Legolas said quite bluntly, "And I don’t feel like doing any of your "exercises" either, so you and Elladan can just save yourselves the trouble of trying to get me out of this bed and leave."

"Good," Elladan said, throwing Legolas off by his answer, "Because we didn’t come here to work on physical therapy today. You have a visitor that wants to meet you."

"I told you I don’t want any comp..." Legolas began but then trailed off abruptly as Elrohir turned and motioned Eowyn and her husband, Faramir, into the room. But they were not the real reason Legolas was so startled into trailing off like he had. For sitting there in the crook of Faramir’s arm with his little arms thrown around his father’s neck was a small, sandy-haired child with big blue eyes. He stared back at Legolas curiously in the innocent way only a young child could do.

Legolas sat with his mouth hanging slightly open in surprise as he watched Faramir stride forward and gently set the child down on the edge of the mattress near the foot of his bed. "We promised we’d bring our son around to meet you one of these days," Faramir said with a small shrug, as if that was the only reason Legolas needed to know as to why there was a young child suddenly sitting on the edge of his bed.

Legolas gave one last bewildered glance up at Faramir as the man backed away from the bed to stand beside his wife before then looking back down at the small child who sat analyzing him with large, inquisitive eyes. For a long moment of silence, the elf and child just stared at each other, as if waiting to see which would say something first.

"Hello there, little one," Legolas finally greeted with a soft, gentle smile.

"Hi," the child replied, eyeing the blonde-haired stranger before him suspiciously.

"You must be Theomir," Legolas said as he leaned down closer to the child, "I’m a friend of your mother and father. My name’s Legolas." The young boy regarded the elf hesitantly for a long moment before glancing up at his parents as if looking to see if it was alright for him to converse with this strange person talking to him. Eowyn gave a small, reassuring smile to her son which seemed like all the permission Theomir needed to break out of his shy shell.

"Are you an elf like Elro’ir and Eldan?" he asked curiously.

Legolas could not help but stifle a laugh at the small child’s attempt at pronouncing the twins’ names. "Don’t laugh, Legolas," Elladan warned in feigned seriousness from the foot of his bed, "We’ve tried to teach him how to say our names correctly, but I’m afraid we’ve been forever dubbed Elro’ir and Eldan."

"Oh, I think I like these pronunciations much better than the original ones, Eldan," Legolas mocked light-heartedly much to his own amusement as he was rewarded with icy glares from the twins. "And yes, I am an elf," he said, turning his attention back to Theomir in answer to the child’s question.

Theomir stared at Legolas skeptically as if still not sure whether to believe him or not. "Here," Legolas said as he held his arms out to the small child invitingly, "Do you want to come sit in my lap?" The little boy again seemed hesitant and gave a quick glance up at his parents as if seeking permission.

"It’s alright, Theomir," Eowyn said, again giving her son a wan smile. Truth be told, she honestly did not like the idea of her son being so close to Legolas any more than she would have liked letting him go out to play in the streets of Minas Tirith after what she had seen happen between Legolas, Gimli, and Elrond little over a week ago. But her husband seemed confident in trusting Legolas with their son, so she decided to bite her tongue for the time being and give Legolas the benefit of the doubt. Everything seemed to be going even fine. Legolas’ first encounter with Theomir was going even better than what any of them had originally planned. But there was still that lingering note of fear festering somewhere in the back of her mind.

"Won’t I hurt you?" Theomir asked, eyeing the terribly thin elf skeptically.

Legolas chuckled lightly at the child’s question. "No, little one, you won’t hurt me. I assure you." Theomir seemed to consider this for a moment before finally getting to his knees and crawling over to Legolas. With a small tumble, the child flopped down into the prince’s waiting arms and squirmed around in his lap a bit before finally finding a comfortable spot up against the elf’s chest.

The others in the room could hardly help but smile as they watched Legolas look down at the small child in his lap with a look of undisputable love in his eyes. Elrohir and Elladan shared a triumphant glance. It was working. They had hoped that Legolas’ affection for children would (at least momentarily) break him out of this foul mood that had claimed him. And it seemed to actually be working!

"So tell me, how old are you?" Legolas asked as he shifted the child into a more comfortable position in his lap so that he could talk with him directly.

"Two and a half," Theomir stated proudly.

"Wow! Really?" Legolas exclaimed, indulging the child with exaggerated enthusiasm.

"Uh huh. I’m this many," he replied, holding up a tiny fist with three upturned fingers.

Legolas’ eyebrows knotted together in confusion. "But you just said you were two, not three," he pointed out gently, showing the difference between the two numbers on his own hand.

"I know," the child replied defensively, "But you can’t show two and a half on your fingers. So I showed three. My birthday’s in February. I’ll be three then."

"Oh, alright," Legolas smiled broadly. "That makes perfect sense then," he said, humoring the child with just agreeing to his line of reasoning. He was rewarded with a satisfied smile from the boy.

"How old are you?" Theomir then questioned, turning a set of clear blue eyes which he had inherited from his mother up at Legolas.

"A lot older than you, little one. A lot older..." the elf chuckled.

Theomir seemed slightly disappointed with Legolas’ answer, but did not press for an elaboration. Scanning the elf’s face, the child’s eyes happened to fall on the white streaked braid lining the left side of Legolas’ head. "What happened to your hair?" he asked innocently, "Why’s it two colors?"

A palpable tension filled the room as everyone watching the elf and child visibly tensed, not knowing what Legolas’ reaction to such a question would be.

Legolas’ smile noticeably slipped several notches at Theomir’s inquiry, but he managed to keep something of a forced smile on his face for the child’s sake. "I was in an accident," he said, "I got a really bad bump on my head, and have been asleep for the last five years."

"You must have been really tired," Theomir noted with an almost grown-up seriousness.

"Yes. I suppose I must have..." Legolas chuckled despite himself as he felt his heart swell with endearment for this child and his innocent, simplistic views of the world. An audible sigh of relief could almost have been heard coming from the other onlookers in the room.

"I think it’s pretty," Theomir then unexpectedly said as he reached a tiny hand up and fingered the delicate, white-streaked braid in Legolas’ hair. The elf seemed momentarily taken aback by the child’s comment.

"Really?" he asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

The boy nodded. "Uh huh. It looks like someone put paint in your hair."

This time Legolas really did laugh. The clear, musical notes filled the air like the gentle sound of wind chimes in the breeze. To the ears of everyone watching, the sweet sound of Legolas’ laugh was like the cool taste of water to the tongue of a man dying of thirst. It was only then they realized how much they had missed that simple yet somehow otherworldly sound. And it was also in that moment they came to realize this was the first time any of them had seen Legolas really happy or truly smile since his awakening.

"Well, thank you, little one," the elf laughed heartily, "I’m glad it meets your approval." A sudden change seemed to come over the elf. His skin no longer seemed so unhealthily pale, as if his natural elven glow was slowly returning to him. His eyes seemed somehow brighter and more full of life, no longer empty and devoid of happiness as they once were. He seemed more like the old Legolas they all knew and remembered.

Theomir, meanwhile, seemed utterly entranced by the blonde-haired elf’s laughter. Thrilled that he had done or said something that had earned such laughter from an adult, the child giggled happily as Legolas hugged him closer to his chest.

"If you like my hair so much, then perhaps we should put some paint in your hair," the elf then laughed as he playfully tugged at a small tuft of the child’s sandy-colored hair, "How do you like that idea?"

"No!" Theomir squealed, laughing crazily at the elf’s threat.

"Are you sure? I think it would look very nice on you..." Legolas continued to tease.

"No!" the child cried, putting his hands protectively up over his head. He then impishly smiled back up the elf as if daring Legolas to try and paint his hair now.

Laughing in defeat, Legolas relinquished his torment of the young boy. "Alright. You win," he smiled, "But if you ever decide you do want white paint in your hair, just come and see your uncle Legolas."

Holding the young child in his lap up against his chest, Legolas suddenly realized how content and at peace with the world he felt. Everyone else in the room seemed to have disappeared except for him and the boy. He suddenly knew with a deep-seeded certainty that he honestly loved this small child. This child had not judged him, or shown him any kind of fear. He possessed that simple but rare gift that only young children were blessed with: the ability to just love and trust unconditionally without reason or restraint.

He sat for several moments of silence just hugging the child to him, feeling the warm press of the tiny body against his chest and knowing there was no fear of him to be found there. But as he sat there, he suddenly felt a small twinge in the back of his head, like an itch in the back of his mind that he could not reach.

"Did you lose something recently, Theomir?" he asked softly, staring ahead with a distant look in his eyes. Theomir seemed confused by the elf’s question and looked at him inquisitively. "Did you accidentally lose something of someone else’s?" he rephrased.

The child thought on this for a moment. "I lost my mama’s necklace," he said, "She was mad at me. It was her favorite. She didn’t like me playing with it, but it was really pretty," the child explained in a small, plaintive voice as if he was still upset about losing his mother’s necklace and having her mad at him, "I don’t remember where I put it."

Legolas smiled down at the small boy gently. "Do you think your mother would still be mad at you if you found it?" he asked. The boy looked up at the elven prince with big blue eyes, eager to know how he could regain his mother’s forgiveness. "I think you should try looking behind the toy chest in your room," Legolas leaned down and whispered into the boy’s ear just loud enough for the others in the room to overhear. As he said this, he gave a quick glance over at Eowyn standing not far from his bedside and flashed her a small, knowing smile. "I think you might find it there," he said as he turned his attention back to Theomir and smiled at the child.

The little boy just smiled back up at Legolas, still too young to understand the full magnitude and meaning of the elf’s unexpected revelation. A quiet tension hung in the air around them as everyone observing the elf and child shared guarded, wary glances with each other.

"Well, Legolas, it was very nice seeing you again, but I fear we must be going," Eowyn then suddenly spoke up and said. Her voice noticeable trembled despite her attempts to sound calm and cheerful. "It is almost time for Theomir’s nap."

"But I’m not sleepy!" the child in question whined in protest.

"Now none of that, Theo," Eowyn reprimanded sternly. A note of desperateness to get out of that room tainted her voice. "I am sure Legolas also wants to rest, so we will not stay and bother him any longer."

"It is quite alright," Legolas assured, "I have been resting the entire morning."

"Even so," Eowyn replied in repressed panic, "Theomir must still take his nap." She quickly looked to her husband. "Faramir, will you get Theomir for me?" And with no more delay and leaving room for no argument, the White Lady of Rohan quickly strode towards the open door of Legolas’ room as fast as the cumbersome girth of her pregnant belly would allow. At the threshold she then stopped and looked back at her husband and son expectantly, waiting for them to follow.

Faramir stared after his wife in bewilderment for several seconds before looking back at Legolas with an almost apologetic look. He shrugged helplessly. "Well, it was very nice seeing you so much like yourself again," Faramir said as he strode forward and gently lifted his son out of the elf’s lap. "Say goodbye to Legolas, Theo," he said as he sat his son in the crook of his arm up against his chest.

"Bye, Leg’lass," the child called, waving a tiny hand at the elf.

Legolas felt his heart instantly melt at the sound of his own mispronounced name. "Goodbye, Theomir. Will you come visit me again?" he asked hopefully with a wide smile spread across his face.

"I am sure we can arrange that..." Faramir smiled, overjoyed with finally seeing his friend acting more like the old Legolas he remembered and missed for the last five years.

Legolas could only smile back. "Thank you," he whispered. Faramir nodded and then turned with his son towards the door where his wife still stood anxiously hovering in the doorway.

"Bye, Leg’lass!" Theomir called again, still waving his little hand furiously in the air over his father’s shoulder as Faramir carried him out of the door and into the darkened hallway beyond.

The elf sat for several long moments of silence, basking in the warm afterglow of his first encounter with the small child. A warm smile still lingered on his face.

"Cute kid, isn’t he?" Elladan said quite innocently with a very suspicious grin pulling at the corners of his mouth as he took a seat beside Legolas on the side of the bed.

"You planned that whole thing, didn’t you?" Legolas stated more than asked with the barest hint of accusation in his voice.

"What else were we suppose to do?" Elrohir said with a helpless shrug as he sat down on the other side of Legolas’ bed opposite his brother, "Wood-elves of Mirkwood are notoriously known for their thick-headedness and stubbornness to listen to reason."

"Let alone the youngest prince of all wood-elves!" Elladan added with a small laugh.

Legolas did his best to look offended by the brother’ playful comments, but could not seem to keep his own playfulness from showing in response to their baited jab. "Well, I do have a reputation to uphold, you know..." he said, turning his nose up in mock-conceitedness. The twin were delighted by the prince’s sudden desire to joke – a thing they had not yet seen him do until now – and shared another triumphant glance.

The brothers’ silent exchange failed to escape the prince’s keen gaze. "I suppose you want to start working on my physical therapy again now, don’t you?" he said knowingly.

"Only if you want to," Elrohir answered simply.

Legolas leaned his head back against the headboard of his bed and looked up at the ceiling for a long moment of contemplative silence. A deep sigh of resignation escaped his lips before he finally answered. "Sure. Why not?" he said, looking back up at the twins as he began to throw the covers back from off his legs, "It’s not like I have anything else to do right now..."

Elrohir and Elladan exchanged truly excited and victorious grins. It had worked...

"So what do my two torturers have planned for me today?" Legolas asked as Elladan helped him move over to the side of the bed and ease his bare feet down to the floor.

"We were thinking about maybe a short walk to the other side of the room then back, and then maybe some strength resistance exercises. How does that sound?" Elrohir asked as he came round to the same side of the bed as his brother and Legolas.

"Sounds like an absolutely wonderful idea," Legolas agreed sarcastically. Positioning themselves on either side of the elven prince, the two brother each slid an arm beneath Legolas’ and gently lifted him up to stand. Legolas wobbled dangerously on the weak supports of his withered legs and would have collapsed if it had not been for Elrohir and Elladan standing there beside him to help steady and support his frail body. Accepting the offered strength of his two friends, Legolas slowly took a shaking step forward. "You know," he mused to himself as the brothers moved alongside him, "Maybe after this I could take a walk out on the balcony and sit outside for a while. I’m so tired of being trapped indoors all day in that bed. I swear I’ll go crazy if I don’t feel some actually sunlight and wind on my face."

"That sounds like a fine idea," Elrohir agreed, casting his brother another grin. This was the real Legolas talking. The elf they all remembered and loved. Legolas was finally truly back.

*******

"Eowyn!" Faramir called as he hurried to catch up with his wife. "What happened back there?" he demanded, falling into stride beside her with his son still safely seated on his arm, "Why did you run out of there like that?"

"You promised..." was all she said in a low, almost accusing voice between clenched teeth as she continued to storm down the hallway back towards their apartments, "You promised..." Frightened, angry tears filled her eyes.

"What did I promise?" Faramir asked in confusion.

"That nothing would happen!" she exclaimed shrilly, "You promised me nothing would happen with Legolas! That we would be there and nothing would happen!"

"And nothing did!" Faramir protested, "I mean, I don’t know how he knew about your necklace, but it was nothing like what happened with Gimli."

"I don’t care," Eowyn said, shaking her head as she sharply turned down the corridor that would lead them to back the apartments that were specifically reserved for the Steward’s family. "I don’t want Legolas to see Theomir again," she then said, "I don’t want our son anywhere near him."

"Eowyn!" Faramir exclaimed in shock, "How can you say that? This is our friend we’re talking about! Didn’t you see how happy seeing Theo made him? Legolas would never hurt Theomir!"

"That was the old Legolas," Eowyn said firmly, "He’s changed since then. Ever since he woke up out of his coma he has been seeing these... these things that no one can explain! He is delusional and mentally unstable! He thinks he has some kind of psychic ability, but what it really is is just some kind of brain injury. You saw how he acted when he touched Gimli that first time. He could hurt someone! I do not want my son anywhere near him!"

"Theomir is my son too," Faramir shot back heatedly, "And I trust Legolas with him. He would never harm our son!"

"You would risk your own son’s life with that elf after everything you’ve seen?!" Eowyn cried incredulously.

"I am risking nothing!" he exclaimed in absolute disbelief at what he was hearing coming out of his wife’s mouth. "Legolas would never harm a child!"

"Legolas is delusional!" Eowyn cried, her eyes beginning to water in anger and fear, "What he sees are hallucinations! I saw what happened to him after his accident! I saw his head and so did you! Gods, half of his skull was crushed in! How can you stand there and tell me he survived that without suffering some kind of ill effect?"

"What about the Glittering Caves?" Faramir shot back as he shifted his son to his other arm without even falling a step behind his wife, "Not even Lord Elrond can completely explain how Legolas could have known all those details about the cave-in when he didn’t even know the place existed!"

"Some things in this world are harder to believe than fiction," Eowyn snapped.

"Then how can you not believe Legolas might actually have the gift of second-sight?" Faramir exclaimed as the small family finally came within sight of the doors to their private living quarters. "I have seen far more unbelievable things happen in the course of my life. Plus Legolas is one of the Firstborn! Elves possess some powers and abilities that us mortals cannot even begin to comprehend! It is not impossible!"

"No. Only improbable and highly unlikely," his wife replied venomously as she grabbed the handle to their rooms and violently swung the door inward, "Even Elrond was frightened by Legolas, and he is one of the most powerful elves I have ever met," she said, storming inside.

"Then should that not tell you that Legolas might possess something that even Elrond cannot explain?" Faramir called after his wife as he quickly followed her inside and shut the door behind him.

"Faramir, it was only coincidence that Legolas woke up just before Kim arrived to tell Gimli about the Glittering Caves, and only chance that he happened to somehow know about that cave. The rest was only by sheer luck of the guess."

Faramir stood frozen in shock. "Eowyn... I cannot believe that even after everything you have seen and heard, you still do not believe even in the slightest bit that what happened to Legolas could not possibly be real."

"That is because I only believe in things I can see with my own two eyes," Eowyn replied icily, "And I am not the only one that thinks that way either..."

"Then how did he know about your necklace going missing?" Faramir inquired.

Eowyn paused, coming to a halt in the middle of the main living area of their apartment. She stood for a long moment of silence staring down into the cold fireplace of the room, lost in deep thought. "Such a thing was not kept secret. I know I told Arwen when she asked me about it when she did not see me wearing it one day. She could have easily told Aragorn or anyone else, who could have then told Legolas," she said, turning back around towards her husband, "He could have easily heard from someone else." She stood with her shoulders squared to her husband as if daring him to try and dispute that. But Faramir could now see a hint of doubt clouding her eyes.

The two stared at each other for a long moment of silence, the same thought racing through their heads. Not saying a word, Eowyn suddenly broke eye contact and swiftly disappeared through the door that led to Theomir’s playroom. Still holding his son, Faramir quickly follow.

As he entered the room, he found his wife on the other side of the room, sitting on the lid of Theomir’s toy chest which she had already managed to pull away from the wall several inches.

She sat hunched forward, dumbly staring down at her hand where something bright and shiny lay in the palm of her hand. Her other hand covered mouth as if to muffle an impending cry of disbelief. Even from the other side of the room, Faramir knew what lay in the palm of his wife’s hand. He could tell by the frightened look of disbelief in her eyes.

"My gods..." Eowyn murmured in a low, frightened voice. "He was right...," she whispered under her breath, confirming Faramir’s belief.

Faramir knew he should have been somewhat surprised if not even a little bit disturbed by the accuracy of Legolas’ prediction of the missing necklace’s location, but he wasn’t. He just wasn’t. After witnessing the foretelling of the accident in the Glittering Caves, there had never been any real doubt of the authenticity of Legolas’ abilities in the Steward’s mind. Call him gullible or easily persuaded, but he had believed it right then and there. And now he was quite sure his wife was also a believer.

"Faramir, how did he know?" she questioned in a shaking, frightened voice as she finally broke her eyes away from the necklace sitting in the palm of her hand and looked up at her husband. "How did he know?"

Faramir gently sat Theomir down on the carpet where several toys lay scattered across the floor to distract the child’s attention, and moved to his shaking wife’s side. "I don’t know, Eo," he said softly, using his pet name for his wife as he wrapped her in his embrace. "I just don’t know. But whatever it is, I know it’s real..."

Eowyn’s slender form was now trembling in his arms. She buried her face into her husband’s shoulder as a hitched and frightened sob escaped her lips. "My gods... But how can he know?" she whispered, looking back down at the gold, diamond set necklace she had inherited from her mother after the Lady’s death many years ago.

As she continued to stare down at her mother’s necklace which the elven prince of Mirkwood had in a very strange and frightening way returned to her, Eowyn suddenly remembered the look in Legolas’ eyes when he had glanced up at her for the brief moment of time after first asking about the missing necklace. They had looked dark and somehow sharp, like the blade of a sharpened sword – as if she could actually feel him looking deep inside her.

And with a sudden surety, she knew Legolas’ powers were real, and that he truly could see everything he said he did.

******

To Be Continued...

******

Like it?  Hate it?  Response for last chapter was skimpy at best, but I hope all you lurkers out there are still enjoying the fic.  Great big thanks to those that reviewed!

'Till next time!