A/N: So a little bit more of a frequent update. Not as long as it usually is but something is better than nothing, riiiight?

As always, thanks so much for reviewing, everyone! I appreciate your patience and praise so keep it coming. :P

Review Responses:

Lee-All-The-Way: I really, really hate mushrooms. They're just so...squidgy. Oooh thank you very much. I have put so much effort into this story alone that the others are pretty, well...dull for lack of a better word. But if you find the others to your liking, please let me know. Welcome on-board the crazy roller coaster, dearie!

Hikari Uzumaki-Inuzuka: Woo! You know how much I hate to disappoint! I felt that Braig was getting a bit...overpowered so now its time for Legolas to step in as a trainer. XD And possible chew toy. Yes, there will be kickass but you gotta be patient, dearie!

Mentalprodigy: Thanks again for the review, Astrid. You will let me know when your story is ready for editing won't you?

Karolyne: We shall have to wait and see! Thanks, dearie!

EvenstarRoses: Yeah, I felt like a bitch in writing her the way that I did, but if that situation were to happen in modern day society, then someone like Eowyn would step up and act as mother. So I figured it would be just as likely for it to happen thousands of years back too. Thanks, dearie! We'll have loads more Elrond goodness in the coming chapters!

ClaryF: I'll try not to make you hate her forever. :P Thanks, dearie!

Chaotic-curls: You gotta hand it to them though. Most people wouldn't stand up to Legolas lightly. You have no idea how happy it makes me to know that you feel that way about this story. On the contrary, there seems to be an internal debate on that one. Some people believe that Marina is too much of a Mary-Sue, the true definition of a MS being an original character that is perfect in everything. But I'm glad you like her in any case. Believe me, I don't like my infrequent updates anymore than you readers do but c'est la vie, unfortunately. Thank you very much, dearie. I hope you like this chapter, too.

Abyss Prime: Leggo-bear...may I steal that? You get the credit of course. :D

Jazz379705: That would hurt. Thanks, dearie. :P

Mellon: If I were in their shoes, I wouldn't be able to resist swooning even if I was married. Hehehe. Thanks, dearie.

Stylin'Fire: I hope so too! Thanks, dearie!

AnythingFromTheTrolly: Things will work out, I'm sure. XD Don't you worry, the action is going down in the next chapter. Even I don't know what is going to happen. It's always up to them. Thanks, dearie!

Teddy bear 007: Hahaha. Don't break your foot, will you.

WheeljacksGirl: Don't burst into tears! Hope this chapter makes you feel a little better. :3

Counting Sinful Stars: Nope. Hopefully Legolas gets his daddy on and does something about it!

Uchiha no Kaori: Like mother, like daughter as the saying goes! Hahaha. Yes, you and me both. *sits down and shares popcorn with you*

Despite his easy countenance, Elrond let his shoulders sag slightly in relief as Braig retreated to her former position by the wall, laying down on her belly with an exaggerated exhale. It would have caused too many problems if the warg had been unable to be persuaded, or in this case, pressured to go along with something that she clearly disagreed with. But the Lord agreed with Legolas; not only was it the Prince's final decision as Marina's husband, but it was probably the only opportunity for Marina to regain her sight. And despite any reassurances that Arwen might give the mortal in terms of other people who had lost more or were on par, Marina was too self-conscious to live with only half her sight. The only thing Elrond was really concerned about was that if the Dragoness agreed to aid them and shared blood with Marina, there was no telling what it would do to a human.

There had never really been a situation for a human to be granted the rare opportunity, ever.

That being said, It could heal the young woman.

Or it could kill her.

A possibility which Elrond was almost positive Legolas was aware of and yet considering Marina's un-improving condition, death seemed to be closer than any of them could have anticipated. Having been confident that she would survive, the Lord knew he owed it to Legolas to see that through, no matter the cost. Closing his eyes against the image of the bedridden woman, Elrond remembered her as she was. Happy. Cheerful. A complete klutz and occasionally, airhead. Hopefully she could gain some physical and emotional semblance of who she had been, for her own sanity if no one else's.

"I will speak with Gandalf." Elrond said eventually, feeling the toll of using his magic sap his last vestiges of good humour. "He will be able to contact the Dragoness more quickly than a bird. I will inform you as soon as I get a response."

Though Elrond's effort wasn't for naught if Legolas's appreciative smile was of anything to go by. "Thank you again, my Lord. Rest well."

Bidding the two goodnight, Elrond left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. His absence drove home the reality of the situation. Legolas and Braig, the earlier hostility gone, glanced at each other before their eyes settled on Marina where she lay in the centre of soiled sheets and a robe that had been almost pristine just a few hours ago. Lord Elrond had used much of his power to reduce the bruising across her body yet many spots still remained, particularly across her chest and legs. And partial degrees of her face. The beats of her heart were clearly audible to the two; slower than it should be but better than it had been an hour ago.

Turning to where Braig had settled on the floor, Legolas fortified himself against any rebuttal he might receive and crossed to stand in front of the warg, gently resting his hand on her shoulder. "Thank you for your help today, Braig."

Surprisingly enough, the warg's mental voice was quieter and far more withdrawn than it had been previously. I would do anything for her...Braig's soft feminine lilt flittered through his mind, as alien as it had been the first time he had communicated with her. You know that, don't you?

Never in his lifetime had Legolas seen such sincerity in a warg's eyes but it did not change his outlook of her presence. Wargs were still dangerous and unpredictable, no matter how long you knew them. It merely assured him that Braig really did care for Marina, as much as he did, in her own way.

"I know, Braig."

Nodding several times to herself, the silver warg turned her head to stare at Marina's prone form for a moment before her sides heaved in a tired exhale. You will tell me when she wakes up?

Legolas's smile was brief but no less true. Without him even having to say anything, Braig had already caught on to the fact that he wished to be alone with Marina in order to bathe and dress her. Acceptance for anyone is usually difficult and abnormally so for wargs in particular but Braig did not even put up a fight to stay. To know that she trusted Legolas enough to tell her when Marina woke was humbling. Even if he did intent to deviate a little – not that he was intending on telling her that.

"You have my word." Legolas opened the door for her gargantuan form, shutting it with a final click as she disappeared into the inky darkness of an alley.

Only then did Legolas allow himself to lean heavily against the door, closing his eyes to the haunting image of his wife bandaged and ill. Just for a moment. Just to let him compose himself and concentrate on getting her well again. This was part of the process for humans after all. They got sick and injured, but then they healed and most of the time, returned to their old selves. Or at least that was what he was trying to convince himself of. Either way, Legolas had never realised how painful it was to watch a loved one suffer, and being able to do near to nothing about it. It frustrated and upset him so much that he was unable to tell one emotion from the other.

How did humans mange to function on a regular basis let alone when someone they knew was sick? It was easier for elves since their kind did not develop illnesses or infections. Miscarriages didn't exist for them. Scars never tainted their pristine skin. They had never had the need to worry about anyone except during a battle – even then worrying about someone didn't usually come into the equation. And yet, as Legolas continued to remain blind to the room, he could recall several moments when one such person had made him sick to his gut with fear. Tauriel. Clear as day, he could recount every second where he had wondered of her absence, searched for her, found her and the relief it had brought him to see her safe and alive.

Back when he had loved and yearned for her partnership.

Eyes snapping open with chilling ferocity, Legolas clenched his fingers into the palms of his hands, relishing the physical pain it brought. That event had been more than sixty years ago, and he had accepted her choice the moment he had seen him in her arms. It had been clear before as to what her choice had been, but he had held on to his hope that it would be nothing more than a passing fancy. But now, it allowed him to understand what it was to give in to emotions that his kind had resisted for thousands upon thousands of years. Love. Fear. Sadness. Anger. The more time he spent with Marina, greater was the effect of those emotions.

Not to say that he was regretting his choice of marrying Marina; not even in the slightest. It could be said that he treasured her even more because of her fragility, mortality and her ability to make him feel. Tauriel had been just the tip of the mountain where the little mortal had been the in-depth, complicated base of a towering structure of nature that had burrowed her way into his heart. Into his soul. And he would be forever grateful to her for giving that to him. The gift of feeling. Of being loved.

Although, he would admit to not really appreciating the ability to experience worry such as this. Everything else was fine but fear and the anxious gnawing in his gut was threatening to drive him crazy. Distraction. Legolas fixed his gleaming eyes, almost aqua in the light cast from the candles, on to the bath at the end of the room. Marina would definitely appreciate a warm bath, not only to cleanse her of blood and dirt but also to relax muscles and soothe the stress of her body. In saying that, he could certainly use one too but that could wait for now.

There was a trough in the main square a few minutes from their quarters, supplied regularly by a clean, fresh water well. That would be the only viable option to getting water into the bath. Only thing was that it would take quite a few trips and require him to leave Marina. Resigning himself to the task with a barely audible sigh, Legolas collected the bucket and left the quarters. The sooner he filled the bath, the sooner Marina would be clean. And then after that, he would be able to hold her and watch over her throughout the night. That fact alone was enough to settle his heart as he proceeded quietly yet quickly over the cobblestones and into the light cast by the moon where the overhanging rooftops of nearby homesteads could not reach. At such a late time, there didn't seem to be anyone around save for patrolling guards whom acknowledged the Prince with respectable nods (or shamelessly open-mouthed in awe) as they passed.

Legolas quickly developed a habit, back and forth he went. By the fourteenth bucket full, the bath was sitting a little over half full.

The activity and repetitiveness kept his mind occupied and prevented him from worrying about his absence at Marina's side. Not that he was gone for more than ten minutes per trip anyway. But all it took was a second for the situation to change or a second he had lost of her company. Company that was infinitely precious to him; one that he could not afford to lose a third time. There would not be a third time. Shuffling footsteps broke the elven warrior from his inner musings, though he continued to let the bucket fill with water from the trough as his sharp eyes scanned the dark.

Weapons that would normally have been on his person were back in the healing room with Marina, where he could use them to protect her if the need arose. After several trips to the well as it was, he had not believed it was necessary to arm himself. There were no enemies within Minas Tirith and yet, he could not deny that his senses were skyrocketing, responding to the aura of danger and threat. Blue eyes searched the contours of shadows, the perch of nearby roofs and casually diverting to the path that led back to Marina. There was no sign of anyone in that direction at least but he did not allow his guard to falter.

"Hey you there. Knife-ear." The callous address came from across the little square plaza.

Having heard and witnessed every insult and riling attempt directed at himself, Legolas was all but immune to the rude labelling of his kind and simply raised his head to watch impassively as a dozen or so men stepped from the shadows. They were not guards but they were not harmless peasants either. Armour was patchy and looked to be hastily made, if not ruined from being stolen or butchered. Weapons consisted of meat hooks, pitchforks and other various kinds of laborious objects used for less offensive work. And to make matters more interesting, Legolas could not fathom why such folk would be encroaching on him in the dead of night, when he didn't know a single one of them.

"What can I do for you?" Legolas posed the question politely but the underlining was more than a little defensive. Had they seen the direction he had come from? How long had they been watching him for? Had he been so distracted earlier that he hadn't noticed their presence? There was an undeniable itch in his fingers as he held on to the bucket; an itch to wrap his fingers around the throat of the apparent leader and demand to know why they were so obviously threatening him.

The leader was a middle-aged man with various scars across his muscled arms, considerably tidier than the rabble following him but no less dangerous. In actual fact, he bore a rather striking resemblance (albeit male and decidedly uglier) to Endia, the maid whom had insulted and humiliated Marina in just one, short encounter. Were they perhaps related? And if so, just what was this man's purpose? It was no mystery among friends that Legolas was incredibly obtuse when it came to offended feelings in terms of humans, but the rabble didn't know that.

"How's about you dirty those prissy, clean clothes of yours and get down on your knees!" Spat the leader as his followers chuckled amongst themselves and fanned out, surrounding Legolas and blocking all possible exits out of the plaza.

Legolas was not overly perturbed, having been in worse situations, and leveled his gaze to the infuriated man. Now he was just really puzzled. "Whatever for?"

Spluttering in a completely undignified fashion, the scarred man looked to his comrades, his skin turning a light shade of red as he pointed to the elf across from him. "Beat this devil spawn to an inch of his life! Did you really think you could hit my beautiful daughter and get away with it!?"

Daughter? Well that explained everything, sort of. Why would Endia have told her father that Legolas had struck her? Unless this was some sick way of the maid getting revenge against Marina by physically harming her husband. The Prince could not quite wrap his mind around the intention, ignoring the oncoming men for the time being. It didn't make sense. Why would Endia risk enraging him by sending not only her father but his men as well to beat him to a bloodied pulp? This outcome would only encourage Legolas to seek vengeance. There had to be something he was missing. Another piece to the puzzle, as it were. Ducking under a haphazard swing of a pickaxe, Legolas lifted his arm and frowned as the bucket smacked the offending man straight in the face, knocking him out cold.

So perhaps Endia had not told her father. Perhaps he had simply seen the redness of her cheek and assumed. No doubt that the young maid wouldn't have kept it a secret as to who she had been intending to serve this morning. What sane person wouldn't boast about being able to wait on the Prince of Mirkwood? A highly sharpened butcher's blade made a satisfying thunk in the bucket as Legolas raised the object, deflecting the overhead blow before shoving his arm forward to knock the offender right off his feet. Yes, that made perfect sense. The father had assumed and acted upon it. Defending his little girl. Albeit a spoilt, ignorant, selfish daughter on the cusp of reaching adulthood. Perhaps in body but certainly not in mental state.

Nina would not be Endia, Legolas vowed to himself. There wouldn't be a vindictive or selfish bone in her body. His daughter would grow up to be decent, kind, caring and appreciative of what she had. Naturally, he would likely be the same as any proud father and dote upon his little girl but within reason. Spoilt children turned into bad children and bad children turned into worse adults. Certainly not a future he favoured. No, Nina would have a strict yet meaningful upbringing. And situations such as this would never happen, in theory.

That decided, Legolas vaulted into the air as easily as one would take a breath, taking in the slack features of the men corralling him as they stare wide-eyed while he perched on the very top of the well.

Elves were vain creatures, whether they were conscious of it or not. In this case, Legolas was very aware that his magnificent figure caused the slack-jawed expressions on the humans below him. And despite his fruitless efforts to view humans as equals, this group was definitely beneath him in every aspect. It had nothing to do with the disarray in which they presented themselves or the apparent lack of personal hygiene (maybe a little) but of the people they were portraying themselves to be.

Mercenaries. Bandits. Evil doers.

People that Legolas would have no trouble incapacitating yet he would take no pleasure in it. There was no satisfaction to be had over punishing a group of misguided misfits and one overbearing father who probably didn't know his daughter any better than the lackey standing beside him did. It was in that instance that Legolas made a difficult decision.

Yes, he could turn the tables and quite easily kill them. But that would impact on not only himself but Marina and Nina, and thence to Aragorn. Legolas could not consciously bring danger to his family or friends which left him with a pride sullying choice.

Leaping down gracefully from his perch, the elf landed amidst the men, startling them at the abrupt movement and caused more than a few to lose their footing and land on their behinds. Legolas watched their pitiful stumbles, the way they groped at their weapons like blind beggars, eyes shining with fear. Even the leader had lost some of his hot-headed rage and was watching Legolas the way a gazelle watches a lion. Ready to run at a moment's notice.

All this Legolas noticed with one glance and smiled briefly to himself as he closed his eyes with an exhale of acceptance. He could do this. For Nina. For Marina. After all, this particular band of humans were below him - the only way they could harm him was if he allowed it. That is how pathetic these warrior pretenders were. For the sake of his family, Legolas could allow them to believe that they were true fighters and capable of gaining vengeance. Just for a night.

As his eyes opened again, Legolas turned his head slowly as if he were calculating his chances of surviving before lowering his head in resignation. The bucket slipped free of his fingers and landed with a clatter, causing all the pathetic ingrates to almost jump out of their very skins. Lowering to his knees, Legolas let his arms hang, unresisting.

"I have no chance of defeating all of you." Legolas murmured, aware of the men's surprised whispers around him. "It was I who struck your daughter. I humbly beg your forgiveness."

The reaction he received was nothing less than he expected. First Endia's father stared, just as shocked and weary as his men until the logic was swept under the rug as his body started to kick into revenge induced overdrive. Legolas watched the minute details of the human's reactive system; the tightening cords of the man's neck muscles. Flesh ticked in a steadily rising rhythm as his heart rate increased. The air was thick with male pheromones, just oozing testosterone.

That energy gathered into a fist flying on a collision course to Legolas's profile. The Prince knew the blow was coming and did nothing to avoid it or attempt to defend himself. It was very odd to watch a human long enough, knowing they intended to harm him, to take notice of how they acted. Rage was clear on the man's face and body and though he appeared to be a rough-housing mercenary, his side on stance and force of driving power by using his whole body behind the hit spoke of his experience.

There didn't seem to be a moment in Legolas's life that he could recall being hit by a human.

Willingly or otherwise. Marina didn't count of course but the reminder did pinch his pride just a little. It left him wondering what the ratio of power was between human men and women. Elves were almost equal, regardless of gender. Males had more muscle tone to get the final edge over the women. And that was all, just a tiny edge.

And he was about to find out just how much he had underestimated the human male.

It was then Legolas's turn to be surprised as the funneling fist of male power landed on his cheek. There was no pain at first, as the elf became aware of muscle shifting, bone crunching and flesh bruising beneath the knuckles of Endia's father. Once his body processed the incident and his brain comprehended the damage, pain such as he had never experienced before pulsated around his cheek, jaw and eye, aching in synchrony. The force of the blow caused Legolas to reel back, blinking past the completely unexpected agony until the follow through of the man's opposite fist clipped his chin, sending him on to his side.

Legolas put up no resistance and didn't make a single sound as the man continued to pound into him with not only vicious punches but kicks as well. It only got worse when his men joined in. Blow, after blow, after blow. They were relentless and crowing and encouraging each other. Through it all, the Prince was still trying to comprehend the physical power of the species he tried very hard to understand, and why he was letting them do it.

Marina...

"This is the feared prince of Mirkwood? What a joke!"

Nina...

"How's it feel knife-ears?"

I'm doing this for my family...

"Kick him harder! Make him sing, boys!"

And yet as the minutes passed, the enthusiasm of their sport dwindled. The unblinking gaze of the Prince made them considerably nervous. Legolas did not make a sound or attempt to shield himself, simply laying still and letting his body move in the way that their blows took it. It seemed to be a crucial reminder as to who and just what he was, a fact which was not oblivious to any of them. And the smarter ones seemed to grasp the concept that the only reason they were still standing was because he was allowing it. With a final kick of feigned nonchalance, Endia's father backed away from the elf. His men followed suite, albeit in a clumsier fashion and did not manage to hide their fear of rebuttal as they all but turned tail and ran.

"Stay away from my daughter or next time, I'll kill you and keep your ears as trophies!"

Nothing moved. There was no sound save for the soft trickle of water from the well as the footsteps of men retreating echoed across the stone. No guards had come to investigate. Candles remained unlit in the nearby homesteads. Either there had not been enough noise to warrant attention (which was ludicrous) or the inhabitants had been tipped off that something was going to happen.

Legolas was leaning towards the latter.

For at least a dozen beats of his steadily declining heart rate, having risen due to adrenaline and pain, Legolas remained where they had left him until he was assured that they were not coming back or heading off in the direction of Marina. Only then did he check his condition.

Elves were one of the hardiest of races in Middle-Earth. It was more difficult to injure them and break bones but in the long run, they were just as susceptible to a fatal injury as humans were. Fortunately, Legolas had not sustained any permanent damage and was able to pick himself up off the ground with relative ease. There were patches of blood across the stone where he had been knocked to the ground, filling him with mixed emotions that ranged from shock to disbelief. Had they really made him bleed? Surely not.

Although the reflection in the well told another story entirely as Legolas assessed his image.

Blood dotted along his cheekbone, chin and just under his nose. There was an undeniable metallic taste along his tongue and against better judgement he spat at the ground, watching with growing anger as droplets of blood joined the rest scattered across the stone. Hints of bruising were fast disappearing but it did not change the fact that they had probably been worse just a few minutes ago, and that he had been seriously beaten. Had he been human, Legolas knew that he would never have gotten up again. Something he would have to take into account if anything like this happened again.

Aside from feeling a little stiff and sore around his face, back and mid-region (and trying not to be angry about something he had clearly allowed), Legolas decided it had been a worthy sacrifice.

Self preservation meant nothing when his family was involved and that would never change. Even if it did mean sacrificing some of his Elvish pride.

Collecting the battle scarred bucket that had managed to roll away from the fight, Legolas made sure it was still capable of containing water before continuing on with his previous task, ignoring the trail of blood in his wake.

A couple more, thankfully unremarkable trips, found Legolas emptying the final bucket of water into the tub. Never had he been so relieved then to put the bucket down, watching as it teetered on its unreliable base before tipping onto its side with a clatter, baring its scars from the fight. Legolas nudged it out of sight for good measure. It was definitely not something he wished to see for awhile, not until his pride was just as mended as his wounds in any case.

Beneath the bath, a warn crevice lay stacked with fresh wood, located in the centre to maximize its effectiveness in heating the water. Procuring one of the candles about the room, Legolas lit the smaller pieces of tinder until the bigger logs eventually took light. There was something oddly satisfying about completely such a mundane task. Placing the candle back in its holder, Legolas checked that the fire was burning away merrily before letting himself relax.

He had accomplished three tasks in the space of a few hours.

Treating Marina's wounds.

Settling what would have been a dangerous vendetta with a few sacrifices and a bit of blood.

And successfully organizing a bath for his beloved.

It was strange to think that his life now rotated around the wellbeing of a mortal. Two, to be precise. For centuries Legolas had assumed he would be roaming the wilds and conquering evil. To travel the lands and learn all the secrets there were to know until the sea called him home. And he had been content with that outcome, never having known what it would be like to have a family. To look after another.

Now? Now he couldn't understand why he had never known what it meant to be with a family. To experience frailty and humility. Life and death. What he had had before wasn't living. It had been nothing but an empty existence.

Legolas leaned against the wall, oblivious to the passing of time, as he waited for the fire to heat the water enough so Marina wouldn't catch a chill. And as he stood there, feeling the reminiscent ache of a sacrificial beating, an unusual smile found its way to his lips. It was not sarcastic or intentional, or even remotely malicious, given the circumstances. It was simply a smile that belonged for Marina's sight alone. He had done something courageous for the well-being of his family and despite how the situation had turned out of his favour, Legolas couldn't help feeling satisfied about the result. It might have been different centuries ago - he would likely have not had the patience or knowledge to allow those men to live after what they had done.

Marina had brought him clarity. Knowledge. Love. Friendship. And dozens of important life lessons that he would likely learn throughout his existence with her.

Legolas shook his head, still with the queer smile upon his lips. There was really no other place that he would rather be than by her side.

Focusing back on the present, Legolas was not overly surprised to see steam rising from the bath or the fire dwindling to mere embers, eating away at the blackened ash of wood that remained. It was so very easy for time to pass for an elf. As Thranduil had once said, one hundred years truly was nothing but a blink for their kind. Hence why humans were so very peculiar to Legolas, in how they clung to the time that they had. And just how precious he had began to understand that time was.

Fortunately, he wouldn't have to worry about that aspect of Marina's nature when he sent her to the place of his ancestors.

"Legolas..." The soft voice whispered hoarsely from the confines of the bed.

Immediately, the Prince was at her side, peering down into the face of the one whom he loved above all else. Partially opened, a weak grey eye stared back at him with stubbornness and love glimmering in its depths. Though the medicine was supposed to keep her unconscious for a few hours more, it was clear Marina was fighting to come back to complete awareness. And feeling a little selfish, Legolas was overwhelming happy with her defiance for a change.

"I'm here, Marina. I'm here." Legolas reassured her softly, pulling the sheets back carefully so they did not jostle her body. "I've prepared the bath for you."

"You're...going to...bathe me?" Marina's response was slow and slightly slurred, her eye struggling to remain open. Hands that were a far shadow of what they had been rose to assess her face before Legolas gently captured them in his own. "What's on my face? I feel...weird."

Humans were persistent, confusing creatures. Why did they insist on touching a part of their body that was clearly wrapped up for protection against infection and wandering hands? Legolas found himself asking the same question as the moment he let her hands go, she tried to touch the bandage wrapped around her head. Had the situation not been so dire, he would have laughed at the expression of exhausted exasperation on her face at his resistance.

"It's a bandage, Marina. Lord Elrond and I cleaned and re-stitched your wound." Legolas explained somewhat patiently, relieved when her hands went limp and an understanding smile pulled at her lips.

"Thanks, honey."

Legolas cocked his head to the side with a puzzled twist to his mouth. Honey? Why was she referring to him in terms of what bees created? Was this a human joke? An insult? Legolas had never felt so baffled by her odd mannerisms. And he was beginning to understand what humans referred to as a 'headache' coming on. Too much had happened tonight - it was affecting his ability to comprehend human nature. And think.

Even whilst drug induced and clinging to consciousness, Marina recognised his 'what-the-Eru' face and grasped the material of his tunic as she pulled herself into a sitting position despite his heavily elvish protest. Was that red dye on his tunic? Couldn't be. Legolas didn't play with paint. Tomato sauce?

"It's a term of endearment." Marina muttered in an offhanded fashion, tilting her head and widening her eye to get a better look at the stain on the silver material. Legolas noticed and cupped her chin to encourage her gaze to his. It worked, if only just. "Just like how you call me mil-nin. I need to come up with one for you. What about Lego? Leg-Leg? Legless? No that sounds more like an insult, doesn't it?"

For being drugged by Arwen's medicinal herbs, Marina was showing a rather admirable attempt at remaining conscious, and she could still blabber and converse with herself quite efficiently. A trait which Legolas found increasingly endearing as each day passed, only furthering his love and affection for her. Ever so slowly, a smile made its way to his lips as she continued her scrambled blabbering, mentioning things such as 'drugs', 'tomato sauce' and 'feeling high'.

Oxycodone and morphine had this effect on her but Marina had never believed that herbs could create the same mind-altering, body-numbing, high sensation that most people expected of a powerful drug. Not even close and yet here she was with the euphoric sensation of tolerable vertigo. The room was gently tilting this way and that. Or was it she that was moving that way and this way?

From now on the young woman would have to appreciate the methods of healing medicine in this time - clearly she had underestimated the effectiveness of elvish healing combined with specifically selected herbs. There was nothing quite like experiencing vertigo and feeling drunk at the same time. It had created such a numbing effect on Marina's mind that her normal concern over her missing eye, Braig and Nina were almost non-existent. It just wasn't possible to grasp negative thoughts or emotions - they just didn't exist at the moment.

And it was wonderful to not feel the heaviness of grief and pain pressing down against one's very soul for a change. Even if it didn't last forever, Marina could appreciate it for a little while if nothing else.

So consumed by her thoughts and lack of ability to feel anything without concentrating, Marina found herself pleasantly cradled against the warmth of Legolas's chest. The strong, familiar strength of his arms about her body was so very soothing as he carried her robe adorned form to the bath previously mentioned. There was just an undeniable urge to start purring and rub against him like a content cat. But that would be so unusual. Marina was very sure she didn't have the capability to purr and if she tried, it might cause her to dribble everywhere. Which wouldn't be very attractive.

As Legolas placed her on the stool conveniently moved next to the bath, and got down on his knees to loosen the ties to her robe, Marina found herself gnawing at her lip. Gorgeous. There was simply no other word that could hope to describe Legolas. He was gorgeous. Everything about him. Especially his personality. And his features, of course. Most people back on Earth would likely drop their panties just by having him smile at them. It made Marina giddy, her heart thumping erratically to know that he was hers. Forever.

So attuned with her body, Legolas heard the shifting rhythm of her heart and placed his hands at her waist, ignoring the fact that her robe now draped open at her chest. In a millisecond his eyes scanned for blood along the bandage, possibly explaining the rise in her heart rate but it was still pristine white. His own anxiety lessened as his search proved that there was nothing external causing her heart to beat faster - only then did he gaze into her remaining eye and see something that he had not overly expected. There was no denying the surge in his blood but he clamped it down. No, he wasn't going to acknowledge the primal, bare flame of desire glimmering in the ocean of her beautiful eye.

Instead he let his hands rise to grasp her shoulders, distracting himself and her, he hoped. "Marina? Your heart rate is rising. Do you feel all right? Are you in pain?"

Any hope of it distracting her was dashed as Marina sluggishly moved her arms, brushing his off her shoulders. Fragile hands traced across his face, which still ached in reminiscence of the earlier dispute before trailing down and settling over the dried patch of blood on his tunic. Managing a half-frown due to the bandage and muscle limitation, Marina leaned forward and literally sniffed at the stain before tilting her head to stare up at him in an accusing fashion. And for the life of him, Legolas didn't know what to say or do. Did he confess what had happened instantly? Did he give in to his desire and distract her properly?

As usual, Marina was up to her own devices and saved him the dilemma of figuring out what to do when she pressed her lips to his. Legolas tried to resist, really, honest to Eru, he did but his mortal was intoxicating. And he only had so much self-restraint though he did take into consideration to be ridiculously gentle as their mouths met in unison, both of them devouring each other with the Prince being less forward than he normally would be. Marina either didn't pick up on it (which was highly likely) or she was just too content in ravishing his mouth. The latter of which he didn't overly mind.

Legolas let his hands wander despite best intentions, skimming over the paleness of her shoulders, deliberately pushing the robe away and freeing her arms from the material. The robe fell to rest in a pool about her waist, reminding the Prince of what he was doing when the remaining bruises became visible to his sight. Though drugged, Marina was likely still in pain and would feel the aftermath if this continued. He couldn't let that happen. With great reluctance, Legolas forced himself away, standing to remove the temptation.

Marina had other ideas, her fingers dragging the long tunic up to reveal the soft breeches he wore beneath. "I always wanted to try this."

Although he was very curious as to what she wanted to try, and wondering why it had anything to do with his breeches, Legolas decided that enough was enough. Clasping her tiny hands within both his own, he made it a point of getting her attention.

"It can wait, mil-nin. The bath water will get cold."

Once again Marina caught him completely off guard with her change of subject and demeanour. "Why is there blood on your tunic?"

"It doesn't matter." Legolas said quickly, relieved that he hadn't had to lie or even think about it before answering.

Marina wriggled her hands within his. "Yes it does! Are you hurt? What happ-"

In the expanse of seconds, Legolas checked the temperature of the bath water, accepted it as approvable and picked Marina up. Before she could even react in her drug-induced state, the rest of the robe was sitting on the stool and the human was now immersed in the tub, blinking in confusion. One minute she had been sitting on the stool, trying to get information out of Legolas and now she was sitting in a warm bath. A pleasant, aroma bath that was trying to suck the last vestiges of consciousness out of her. In the back of her mind, Marina acknowledged that Legolas had done it deliberately to distract her.

Turning her head slowly to the side, Marina could feel her heart beginning to pick up as she struggled to fight against the alluring pull of sleep. Legolas had rolled up the sleeves of his tunic, and had a secure hold around her shoulders and arm, his blue gaze full of concern. Nurse in training or not, she knew enough to know that her condition was not good and the emotion roiling in Legolas's eyes didn't help her to believe otherwise. A startled breath escaped from her throat as a high kick of fear settled into the pit of her stomach. Panic overcame the heaviness of the herbs and elvish healing as her throat began to feel tight. Numbness spread to her toes and fingers with shocking realness despite the heat of the water.

"Marina, relax." Legolas crooned softly, alternating between cupping her face and smoothing his hand over her shoulders while his other arm kept her from sinking beneath the water. "Don't fight it."

Words so very similar to what Elrond had murmured to her several hours ago. But that had been pain induced. This was pure, unadulterated panic attack; a feeling of no control no matter what you did. And you were so very aware of consciousness slipping away from your very fingertips. Marina focused on her husband with all her might, whimpering as her heart hammered within the ribcage confining it. The tightness around her windpipe began to feel crushing, as though someone had their hand wrapped around her throat.

"C-can't...breathe..." Marina had both her hands around his forearm, clinging to him. "L-Legolas!"

Feeling his heart constrict at the sheer plea in her voice, Legolas knew there was nothing he could do but support and encourage her that everything was fine. Elrond had informed him of what had happened in his absence, when Marina had sought physical comfort for the pain she endured. Except this was different. Similar but it was something worse, and there was no physical cure for it. Leaning over the bath, Legolas drew her up so that she rested against his chest, holding her tightly in his arms even as his clothes became saturated with water.

"It's all right, my Marina. You're safe. Calm down, baby." Legolas gently rocked her in the enclosure of his arms, wondering if the endearment she had once used for him would calm her. He had never heard it used in such a way before and yet he felt a glow of warmth as it slipped off his tongue. Baby. It was certainly an endearment he would use for her. And one he was very sure Marina would use for him in the future. Because they definitely had a future together. He wouldn't let anything happen to her.

To his relief, Marina's heart rate began to level out and the tension in her body began to evaporate. What had been fast-paced inhales had slowed down and become more natural though there were still hitches as she fought down tears. A few had slipped free and soaked into the bandage across her face. Legolas pressed his lips to hers, over her skin and the bandage before smiling warmly at her, relieved as a weary smile pulled at her lips.

"S-sorry. That hasn't happened to me in a long time." Marina breathed shakily, feeling numb as the adrenaline faded away.

Wiping at the sweat that had formed on her brow, Legolas lowered her back into the water though he did not break contact. He didn't want to let her go, not after seeing her like that. "Don't apologise, Marina. What is it that ailed you?"

Feeling more like herself and less like a drug-induced, raging panic attack, Marina stroked her fingers across his arm, more tolerant of the beguiling call of sleep. "It's called...a panic attack...used to have them when I was younger." Leaning against the curve of his arm, she raised her eye sleepily to his. "My mum used to...hold me when I had them..."

Legolas persisted with his query, even as he watched Marina's body begin to settle into sleep. "Is there no cure?"

At first he assumed that she had fallen asleep until a twitch of fingers against his bicep and a movement of lips told him otherwise. "You're...the...cure. And I still...want to know...why there is blood..."

Between the effects of the herbs and elvish medicine, and Marina's sudden panic attack, her body had won over her mind. Losing consciousness halfway through a sentence definitely saved Legolas from telling her about the incident with Endia's father. No doubt she would badger him about it when she next woke.

For now though, Legolas was going to make use of her reluctant compliant state. Even if it did mean staring at her naked body as he washed every inch of delectable skin.

Once again, he really wasn't doing anything about his self restraint.

Sexually traumatised? Suffering from lack of Legolas? Come down and join the Legolas-Get's-Cock-Blocked panel! The very elf himself will be there to talk about how difficult it is to resist taking his clothes off and baring all for all you lovely ladies (and men, if there are any).

So I'm hoping the next update will be out in a week, seeing as I'm currently unemployed. *cries* But I've been getting harassed (lol not really) about the Naruto story and I've written a few pages of that so we'll see how we go.

See you next update, dearies! Mucho love!

Ciao!