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It called to him now. Never before standing upon the decks of an ancient ship had the sea called to Legolas the way it called him now and there was little he could do but heed it. The armies of Gondor and Rohan camped now along the great field called Pelennor, preparing for a final stand against Sauron, and while his head should have been in strategy, instead it was lost at sea. This was madness.

Legolas understood now why the Elves had flocked from Middle Earth in droves. No longer were they tethered to this land and concerned with the perils of it. No longer did the matters of Men and Dwarves and Halflings cross their minds on a regular basis. Instead, it was Valinor and her white ships that called them and they answered it, marching without cease into the west.

Legolas knew there were many things left to be done before he could join them. He had made a pact with the company of the Ring and intended to keep it, intended to see Aragorn, son of Arathorn, installed as king of all Men. Sauron's grip in the east was too strong yet to give in to temptation and he tried to use that to guard his mind and serve as focus for the days to come. Still, as it had never been difficult before now, it was a strange shift in the way he thought and it almost seemed he was dreaming awake.

He pushed open the flap of his tent, intending to take in the night air on this eve of battle. Elves did not need to sleep in the traditional sense of Men and Dwarves and Legolas had already had his fill of rest this evening. Tonight, he sought the stars and their company and thought to commune with those long past. But as he stepped through the opening in the tent, a curious thing happened - there were no stars above him.

Instead, he was in a hall of some sort, closed in and carpeted without view of the night sky. There was a doorway there too, plain and unassuming, and Legolas wondered how this was possible. Was this some Elven magic or was it something older, something of wizards who trod the earth long before Elves came to prominence. Was this something of Numenor, now twisted to do Sauron's will? He knew not.

With a hand at the hilt of his knife, he turned his head a bit, listening for any signs of danger. Hearing nothing obvious, he pressed on, trying to make sense of this mad, new world.

[[Find an Elf wandering the halls at night!]]

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Okay. Not exactly a "hi, how're you doing?" but as greetings between strangers in a really strange place, it was better than, say, an armed assault and fight for your life. Having lived through that, she'd take this genial greeting for what it was.

"It is my home for now, but it's home to many people so no forgiveness necessary."

"Is it an inn, of sorts?" It seemed larger than any inn Legolas had ever seen in his travels through the human lands and yet, there was something strange about it. Unsettling but not entirely panic inducing, not yet. He did not feel the need to be anything more than on guard.

"Or is that too simple an explanation?"

Fran shifted the sleeping baby to her other shoulder. "Of sorts, yes. I mean, it's an inn, but probably not like anything you've ever seen before. I know I hadn't ever seen anything like it when I arrived. Sorry, I should introduce myself first, huh? I"m Fran Goldsmith. And this little guy is my son, Peter."

"I am Legolas, of the Woodland Realm," he said warmly, bowing his head a bit in deference to the young woman. "I apologize that I did not introduce myself earlier. There is nothing more troubling than being in the midst of a long conversation and not knowing your partner's name."

Legolas thought a bit of levity might lighten the heaviness in his heart at not knowing where he was or how he arrived.

Later, she would have no clear idea how she kept her face blank. Maybe it was the late hour or the fact that she'd seen both Thor and Loki wandering the hallways. Whatever, she was grateful for it. The last thing she wanted to do was make someone uncomfortable, and definitely not someone who had been, prior to now, one of her favorite Tolkien characters.

"You're right about that, Legolas. It's truly a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to the Nexus," she offered and shifted a squirming Peter into the crook of her arm. "Not much of a welcoming committee, but our hearts are in the right place."

"Hearts are the only thing that matter," Legolas assured her, giving her a soft smile. "I would not fault a young mother for being tired. I believe that is the way of it, as little as I know about human children."

Elves had not had children amongst them for many, many years so it was a novelty.

Sometimes, she thought, there were uses for a degree in English lit, despite what her mother had droned on about. Granted, her mother had no way of knowing that one day she'd use it to not freak out when an elf stood before her remarking on human children. Still, she was grateful for it.

"He's actually a very good baby, none of the hours of endless screaming I worried about. He lets us know when he's not comfortable, but for the most part, he's pretty happy to just watch the world happen around him."

She turned just a little so he could see the little face.

"In that way, not terribly different from an Elf," Legolas said, laughing lightly. Elves had long spent their days drinking in the beauty of the natural world and abhorred the way humans felt the need to raze it and build cities upon it instead of in harmony with it.

"You are very lucky. My people have not had children for a long, long while."

That comment stopped Frannie for a moment that nearly dropped her jaw in surprise. She'd spent so much of her pregnancy just trying to survive the chaos that had become her world, that she'd forgotten the simple miracle of the little life in her arms.

"I haven't thought about having him in those terms before, but I come from a pretty scary place. I am lucky to have him, but it took hearing you put it just that way for me to recognize it," Frannie smiled. "Thank you for that."

"We are long-lived and our race is in the twilight of autumn now. There will be no more Elf children in Middle Earth, I don't think," Legolas said. It was wistful, yes, but not terribly sad; he had never mourned something that came to a natural end.

"It is now the time for Men to rise up and rule the world."

A frown darkened Fran's features. "From where I came from, Men didn't do such a great job of it."

She tried to fight off the anger and sadness she always felt, thinking about the world on the other side of the doors, but time and distance had left her less a shell-shocked victim and more able to star coping with the loss. Or trying to. How did you adjust to the near eradication of an entire planet's population?

"Men make mistakes. Elves have too," Legolas conceded, "But Men, more so. They are a younger-lived race and have the shortcomings of that short life. Still, there is much joy in Men, much sorrow. Deep lows and dizzying heights. It is much more excitement than an Elf ever sees over hundreds of years."

"I could do with a little less excitement," Fran admitted, "though that's really the wrong word for what my world turned into."

Peter woke in her arms and started to fuss a little, so she transferred him onto her shoulder and gave his back a few, soothing pats until he settled.

"War?"

War was never easy and something that Legolas had seen too much of lately. While he liked seeing his blades black with Orc blood, that was only because the Orcs had made the land cry out in pain and made the Men of Rohan and Gondor bleed and perish. It was vengeance that led him to take joy in ending their lives, a vengeance that was not becoming of Man or Elf.

"I, too, have seen much of war."

"Close, but not quite. More like a handful of men that wanted to find a way to cheat at war, find a way to win without going through the battle. We were never sure what happened, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out that the plague that ran over the world like wildfire wasn't natural."

Not with the way they worked so hard in the beginning to cover it up.

Elves never took sick, never fell to mortal age. They could be killed in battle, certainly, but never would succumb to an illness that might strike swiftly among a village of Men.

"That is something my people have never experienced. All grows old around us while we remain the same."

Frannie was quiet while she rocked the baby on her shoulder. "It's strange, you saying that. It's a lot how we felt, the ones immune to the plague. All we could do was watch as our family, our friends, just got sicker and sicker while we stayed perfectly healthy."

Which was a more benign way of saying they stood helpless as the world died. Frannie gave a shudder and held her son tighter to her chest.

"It is a difficult task, being close to those who will pass before you. Still, it can be worth it for the friendships forged."

Legolas had not always thought so but now, knowing the Hobbits and Men and even a Dwarf, he could not help but think it was worth it in the end.