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L U M O R N E L
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"We're close, aren't we?"

There were no signs saying that the Western Hope was nearby, that would just be idiotic, but... something about the trees and rocks seemed familiar. It was a stupid thought. The trees and rocks looked just like every other tree and rock we had passed for the last few weeks. But it was more than the landscape that had alerted me of our proximity. The others seemed to pick up speed, though minimal it was, and they seemed to perk up some. I wasn't the greatest at reading people, no that skill belonged to Legolas, though he would just say it came with being a prince—but he would be wrong, it's just who he is—but at least I could tell the difference from their normal travel-subdued mood.

"Yeah, no more than two day's walk I'd wager. You can smell it," Giriad answered, glancing back at Legolas and me with a small, yet very bright, smile. It was almost timid, but hoped to not be.

I smiled back. "Smell it?"

"Yeah, smell it about as well as a hound smells cheese."

...what? I didn't smell anything, other than the natural earthy scents of the soil and trees. And the frigidity of the air. And our own stink, I guess. We all really, really needed a bath.

"Ignore him," Baran said, waving a dismissive hand. "His figures of speech make about as much sense as the moon rising in the morning."

"That," Giriad nodded towards Baran, "is because you are uncultured."

Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, his head jerked in my direction, eyes wide. "Er, no offense meant."

I shook my head, smile wide, though it felt forced. With our arrival being so soon... my stomach seemed to be filled with butterflies. The Western Hope... so close. Trying to live normally again, to not be able to escape... "No offense taken."

After about almost a month of traveling and making painstakingly awkward conversation with the others, I finally had managed a mutual trust. Well, not trust exactly. More like they would actually talk to me. Only a few would sit or walk with me, but it was better than Remar and Nelnor, who avoided me at all costs. Both still gave me hostile glares and they refused to sleep when it was my turn to have watch.

It also helped that Aragorn ignored the others' regard toward me and treated me like a good friend. If Gondor's future king could befriend the great betrayer of Middle-earth, then so could they... maybe. Legolas's relationship with me didn't seem to matter, though. Even though we constantly held hands, always were by each other. Perhaps... perhaps Legolas was too broken before to have gained the same respect as Aragorn.

Tirithan, however, helped immensely. Though he was an elf and therefore different from the men in almost every way, he somehow had earned much respect from them. His loyalty to Legolas and the thing about him seeing my fëa or... something, made him see me as a friend. He often helped pull me into a conversation, which before my death, I would have hated. But with my inadequate social skills and with the fact that I was feared, it helped a lot. I was immensely grateful... especially with how he had, on many occasions, salvages my pitiful attempts at socializing.

I leaned closer to Legolas as we walked, lowered my voice to barely a whisper. "Can you really smell it?"

He grinned and huffed a laugh. "No, Lum. But I'm sure they can smell us."

"We should wait until spring for the streams to unfreeze. Then we can bathe and then return."

He eyed me for a short moment and then as if sensing just how much I was dreading our arrival, squeezed my hand.

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My heart thundered in my ears, and not because I was making my way across a narrow pathway high up on a mountain. But because the Overhang, the main entrance to the Western Hope, was just ahead. So close that Aragorn was already crouched down on it, shielding himself behind the large rocks and scraggly, piney bushes. The dying sun's light grazed the top of his head.

Only a few more paces and I'll be there.

If I didn't tumble down the mountain because of the anxiety bouncing crazily around in me first. As it was, I felt like I was going to trip over my own feet.

I shouldn't be this nervous, I thought. I'm only entering the Western Hope.

Where I'll be trapped with people who hate me, made to act as if I am some savior, forced to eat normally with others who are using knives!

I clenched my teeth hard, holding my breath as a barrage of anxiety pummelled its way through me. My core felt like it housed the worst kind of bees, like I had missed a step on a set of stairs, except that moment of panic didn't end in half a second. It settled there. A physical weight of dread.

Valar, I don't want to go in there—

I focused intently on Tirithan. He had a really nicely made woolen cloak. Brown, perfectly deep soil. It seemed light, short enough to not be a hindrance. Long enough to be a nice warmth and blanket. A cloak was a traveler's best friend and he had picked a good one. Though I noticed some dirt on the fabric and a tear near the bottom, shame on him, and—and we were only a few steps away from the Overhang.

Tirithan stepped onto it.

My feet became leaden. I didn't move. I simply stared at that invisible barrier.

Nope. I'll just camp outside. If they need me they can come talk to me. I am not going in there. It's completely unreasonable.

From behind, Legolas touched my shoulder—

And I jumped high up in the air, yelping as I fell over that nonexistent barrier and onto the overhang itself. Into the Western Hope.

I was acutely aware of the eyes on me.

And I was in the Western Hope.

I squeezed my eyes shut, held my breath against the quick breathes I knew my body wanted to take.

This is unreasonable. It's just a cave. A cave with—

"Lumornel."

My panicked eyes open to find Legolas before me, a hand outstretched before him. Gratefully, though hesitantly, I took it and he hauled me to my feet. "Take a breath."

I nodded and did just that, shaking out my hands. It's just a cave, it's just a cave, and not even a scary, dark cave.

The mantra played on loop in my head as we walked deeper in, keeping a firm and probably crushing grip on Legolas's arm. The air noticeably warmed as we passed through the spacious cave, and judging by the booted feet I saw, it was guarded. Great, people.

Biting my tongue, I forced my head up. The corridor was more like a... a—well—a cave-like hall but wide with a low ceiling. Thin, gnarly roots hung down from above, low enough that I would have to maneuver around them. The floor was a mixture of gritty soil and rock, a groove running the length of space as if a stream had at some point ran through it. Ahead, at the back of the cave in a shroud of darkness, there was a slanted, rocky wall. But... wasn't this the Western Hope...?

My curiosity warred with the part of my mind that was still screaming. "How are we..."

I trailed off as Aragorn and a few others reached the far end, turned right into the cave wall, and... disappeared.

I found myself almost pulling Legolas along as we neared the back, following the ground's dry stream bed to... to a narrow hallway set into the cave itself, hidden expertly from view. It looked as if whatever stream had been in here had carved itself deeper into the mountain and someone else had simply widened the hole. But had failed to provide any light.

Legolas began down the gloomy, unnaturally cut hall.

"Wait, how are we going to see?"

"There's a door not too far down. We'll be able to see on the other side."

I paused, suddenly remembering how I had entered this place with Elladan and Elrohir. "We're not going to have to crawl, are we?"

He laughed, his blue eyes alight as he shook his head. "No, not here."

"Thank the Valar," I breathed, then, after a moment's hesitation of staring warily down into the narrow darkness, I followed Legolas. I could still see, just barely. Legolas before me was a dark outline, the smallest fraction of light making his tunic the darkest of greens, his halo of hair the palest of blondes. The ribbons of rocks weaving along the walls glinted like glitter. I scuttled forward and laid a hand on his shoulder as an attempt to drive back the darkness.

Legolas, after a short walk, halted and fumbled with something along the wall, a door maybe, and—light poured into the earthen hall. I squeaked and shut my eyes, letting them adjust. When I opened them, Legolas was watching me, light illuminating half of his face, a small smile quirked a little more on one side.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Get in there, you elfling. And stop looking at me like that. It was bright."

"It wasn't that bright," he teased.

"It was brighter than the darkness which is pretty bright."

He huffed a laugh, then entered into the light, leaving me alone before the entrance. And, once again, my palms immediately tingled, my middle torn between a beehive and a weightless, floating balloon. A glow erupted from me, bouncing off the walls. I jumped, then, before I could run back the other direction, followed Legolas into the room.

Well, 'cavernous grand hall' was more appropriate. Or, more accurately, a market place or something similar.  There were a few booths set up, goods spread out on tables or in baskets, but mostly there were areas off to the side spotted with blankets and rugs and the occasional chair. People gathered here, talked and gossiped. The chatter was enough to drown out the more distinctive sounds. Children ran amuck through the many adults, many chasing each other with wooden swords and shields.

And I was standing among them.

Almost as soon as I stepped into the Hall, Legolas took my hand. Though his grip was comforting, he was rigid. Aragorn quickly fell into step on my other side.

As we walked, there were no exclamations made, but I didn't see any gazes on me either. It was only a matter of time before my shock of white hair was recognized.

Aragorn swept his arm out, gesturing to our surroundings. It was an oddly casual motion, completely at odds with the need to hide my face and run building inside me. I almost didn't comprehend his voice when he spoke.

"This is Market Hall. It may not have many booths, but that is what the people call it. They come here to converse and spend their free time away from their required duties. And," he said, continuing on in the same care-free tone, so opposite to what I felt it should have been. There was even a small upturn to his lips, as if he were content and not waiting for the shouts or whimpering to begin. "I am speaking to you as a friend would, so they will see that you are no enemy of mine."

I nodded, forcing a smile of my own. I knew that if I looked into a mirror, I'd probably look sick, that smile more of a grimace than anything of pleasure.

I squeezed Legolas's hand tighter and tried—and failed—to swallow my anxiety. "Required duties?"

"The Western Hope is a place of refuge for those who have no home, but it is also a place where soldiers train and we members of Command plan to take back our home. We aren't a refugee camp, no matter how it may look. The families who are here serve a purpose. The parents of young children may weave cloaks, or hammer armor, or cook our meals. Some men help train the young and inexperienced with swords or with hand-to-hand combat. Others hunt and gather food. Everyone here has their part to play to ensure our survival. Even the children."

My gaze kept fishing out into the throngs of people, seeing them mill about, though many sat on their rugs and were making or sorting or doing something with their hands. None seemed to notice who walked among them, not yet. But I couldn't stop looking out, couldn't stop feeling like the avalanche was about to come crashing down. I barely registered any of Aragorn's words, as if I wasn't there, his voice something vague in the background. Why hadn't I just stayed outside?

"Children?"

"They help clean the caves and run errands, some of the elder children polish our weapons and serve food."

Almost halfway through. Legolas would probably have finger-shaped bruises along his arm. I couldn't relax enough to feel sorry.

"You're doing yourself no good with a face like that," said a voice from behind. I jumped, twisted, and saw Elrohir frowning at me.

Elladan rolled his eyes, then proceeded to nod a greeting to Aragorn and Legolas. "What he means to say is try not to appear so ill."

"You're not helping either, Dan." I could hear the eye-roll in Aragorn's voice.

"Good to see you too," I mumbled, trying to shake myself from my disconnected reverie. Hunger rolled and growled in my stomach.

Legolas leaned in close, his thumb running a line along the back of my softly glowing hand. "You could always... brighten your countenance a little."

I nearly stumbled over my own two feet and despite the nausea crawling up my throat and the feeble weakness in my limbs, I laughed.

Elladan sputtered, erupting into a fit of laughter. Oh no no no, that'll draw attention. "Was that a pun, Greenleaf?!"

Elrohir groaned. "Oh great, you've activated his pun side."

Legolas was grinning. He must be very proud of himself. I nearly laughed aloud—

It was quiet.

Market Hall, which had been full of chatter and laughter and playful children screams, had hushed to an eerie murmur. Somewhere, a child was crying.

Hostile, frightened eyes zeroed in on me. Mother's grabbed their children. Strangers darted away. The fire of their gazes pummeled me, the fearful avoidance of others made me cold.

I gripped Legolas's arm tighter and forced my gaze ahead. But no matter how hard I tried to look away, I couldn't stop peeking glances at those watching. Fearful eyes, angered stances. A mother clutched her tiny son close, as if she thought I would hurt him.

This is where I'm staying. How would I walk the halls or even enter rooms if this was how I was going to be treated?

One moment at a time, Lumornel. One moment at a time.

Despite the fact that we were all well aware of the attention holding us captive, the fear and hostility as thick as a hot, humid day, the others kept up their harmless banter. And yet, I hardly heard them. A caving pressure seemed to be collapsing my chest, though I tried to smile and chuckle at the right moments. I clutched Legolas's hand, using it as an anchor. I would not fall apart in front of them all. I would not. I had to at least wait until I was behind closed doors.

And, after an eternity, the stiff guards at the end of the hall pushed open enormous double doors. Through the haze, I almost noticed how intricately carved they were, depicting something from another time.

The doors thudded loudly shut.

I gripped Legolas's arm as the sudden weightlessness of relief and the weariness of the moments before threatened to make me stumble. Do not think ahead. Just focus on now.

"That went well, all things considered."

I turned on Elladan. "It went well?"

"Yes, sure," he shrugged slightly, still smiling. "They didn't come after you with pitchforks and fire, did they?"

"Well... no." It felt worse than that though... I guess not as violent. A good sign?

"Then there is still hope."

Still hope... I latched onto those words, repeating them over and over as Aragorn led us deeper into the ground.

I had to believe it. Not just for me, but for everyone else too.

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Welp, not the most interesting plot-advancing chapter. Not the happiest either so sorry 'bout that. But I needed to write the here-and-now Lumornel's reaction to the way she is treated. Next chapter will be better. More Legolas time :D

-_- I'm realizing that chapters 1-24 could have been a separate book or novella altogether

Also! Happy slightly early Independence Day!! And for those not in America... you have a good July 4th too :)

God bless,

~phoenix