She followed his gaze to the stone still in her hand, and it took all of her power not to clench her fingers around it. Yes, she had kept it. She didn't know why. Perhaps because it was the only thing she could cling to, once they had taken him from her sight.

Except they hadn't, because he was here. She hesitated. How foolish she was being; she had cherished how freely she had been able to speak with him before, had been pleased and comforted and exalted by his presence. The unknown had always thrilled her, but she had begun to understand that she had never truly pressed herself with it. He was strange and different and suddenly he had become too close. Legolas had seemed to understand better what was occurring than she had.

"Would you like it back?" she asked. Maybe he did. She truly did not know. Her injuries were unimportant, compared to him, however, and she was almost surprised he brought them up. She angled her head, slightly, to the side, as she looked at him. She wanted to draw near just as much as she wanted to pull away, so she stood still.

"You are not," she observed, though her voice brimmed with enough hope that it made it a real question.