Thank you all for reading. This is the next piece in the Nightingale series, following Decision.

000

Legolas sat up and leaned back against the mallorn tree he had been sleeping beneath. Strange that he could find rest, after all that had happened. He shuddered, feeling again the darkness of Moria in spite of the sunlight filtering from above, and the freshness of the air. He glanced at the Hobbits, who were still sleeping, though Frodo fidgeted more than he had before. Not a good sign, that. The Gondorian and the Dwarf snored as if in a contest, and Aragorn was already gone off somewhere.

Certain that no one watched, his right hand stole to the chain round his neck and he pulled it out, cupping the gold ring in his palm. Slowly he removed the chain, unfastened it, and slipped the ring onto his finger. He smiled a little and breathed a soft sigh. That was better. His ring was where it belonged. He had not worn it thus since Imladris, preferring to keep it close to his heart as he always did while on the hunt, or in battle. But he felt better wearing it round his finger, loved proclaiming that he was wed, and to such a fine woman. Next he withdrew from the pouch also fastened to the chain a bundle of brown hair, tied together in green ribbon. He caressed the strands, still soft after so long, and he felt the little knot of tension and grief in his soul slowly unwind and seep away as he remembered her earnest smile as she had given him her gift.

"Take this, and think of me while you're away."

"I always think of you."

His smile grew as he relived the rest of the memory, the sweet, hot kiss Dulinneth had bestowed upon him, the promise of more when he returned, and the fulfillment of that vow when he had. That had been many years ago, when they were first betrothed, and he had carried the lock of her hair ever since. It had given him comfort when he was away, and it did so now too, a tangible reminder of her steadfast love.

He was about to raise it to his nostrils, but he heard someone sit up, and he felt eyes on him. Legolas turned, stifling his irritation that his memories were disturbed. And by the Dwarf, no less. He should have left the camp as Aragorn had so that he could be alone. Next time he would make certain to.

"A token from a lover?"

Legolas closed his fist more tightly around Dulinneth's hair and shook his head. He had no intention of answering further than that, but the words slipped out before he could stop them. "A token from my wife."

He raised his chin and narrowed his eyes at the Dwarf, daring him to laugh over his sentimentality. Not that he cared what he thought.

"I didn't know you were married." The Dwarf moved and sat close, but not too close, and crossed his legs.

"It was no one's business." Legolas returned the bundle to its pouch and slipped it back onto the chain and stuffed it beneath his shirt again.

"We should know each other, if we're to guard each other's backs, don't you think, Gimli said, and he reached into his vest and withdrew a smooth pebble and turned it over to reveal a series of runes. "For protection. From my mother."

"You'll need it, where we're going."

"Hmph." Gimli's eyes darted to the ring Legolas wore. "Fine craftsmanship, that."

"Yes," Legolas replied, tracing the mithril filigree that adorned the otherwise plain gold band.

"What's she like, your wife?"

At first Legolas said nothing. How to describe her. There were so many things he could say and they all seemed inadequate. "She is kind," he said at last. "Warm, gentle, strong. And very beautiful. She is a healer among my people, and very skilled at her calling. I could watch her all day as she moves and never tire of doing so. And when she tends our son and sings to him . . ."

"You have a son too?"

Legolas stirred and looked at him. "Yes. Belon. He will soon reach his first year."

"I'm surprised you could leave them."

"It is never easy," Legolas acknowledged, and the weight of his loneliness for his wife and son pressed in on him again. "But some things must be done."

"Aye, so they must." Gimli nodded again at the ring on Legolas' hand. "What is her name, your wife?"

"Dulinneth," Legolas murmured, his tongue lingering over the syllables. "In my language it means nightingale girl."

"She must be very special."

"She is indeed." Legolas pressed his hand to the center of his chest where Dulinneth's token rested. His talisman. "And when an Elf woman gives you a lock of her hair, or even just a few strands, you know you're special too. At least to her."

Gimli stroked his beard as if contemplating something profound, but when he spoke next his eyes gleamed in that mischievous way Legolas had noticed before. "In that case I'd best watch your back to make sure you return home to her."

And with that he stood and walked away before Legolas could say anything in retort.