Title: Golden Leave of Lorien
By: Ellwyn
Rated: 
Feedback: jidai_rinoa@hotmail.com
*"Brother" is used in the context of formality--not brothers as in kin, but in title. ^^
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Chapter 3 – Chaos Rising

The Lady Galadriel sat on the edge of her bed, wringing her hands in front of her. 
Erlyannil sat on the floor before the Lady, and she wore a look of the utmost concern.

"You are true in your reasoning, Erlyannil," Galadriel began, "but this cannot be. I do not 
know what to say."

"Lyndariel is my…only friend in this city," Erlyannil muttered, "and, as much as I do not 
want to see her suffer from the disapproving of the others here, I do not want her to suffer 
because she can not be bound to Elladin. She loves him, atara, and she will do anything 
to be with him. You must understand--this is Lyndariel we speak of now! She can and 
will go to any measure just to…"

"Yes…I know. I understand. I just don't think…" Galadriel sighed. "But it must be, I 
fear. If they have pledged themselves to each other. Perhaps it will not be as ill as we 
dread it to be…perhaps our people will surprise even us and will be even kinder to the 
union. Perhaps I do not give my people enough time to overcome grudges of the past."

"Perhaps, atara," Erlyannil said. "But I am sorry. For the trouble this has caused you."

"Trouble? My dear, there have always been troubles. You are young yet." Galadriel 
smiled warmly at the girl. "Your friend should not worry, nor should you. Our people 
will eventually have to learn to accept that the Elves of Mirkwood are not all cowards 
who hide behind the lines of their kindred in times of battle. And you may be right, 
Erlyannil, perhaps it will be better if this happens quickly…so that there will be no time 
for conflicts to even arise."

"Or it could all come tumbling down at once," Erlyannil said, eyes downcast.

"Do not worry!" Galadriel exclaimed, a smile in her eyes, "being too learned for such a 
young one, perhaps is not the best. You should not have to worry over such matters while 
you are still young. Speaking of youth, do you not think it time that you follow your 
friend's ways?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…that it is the right age, you have come beyond our ways of learning and you are 
ready. Ready to be bound in union to another--"

"Atara!" Erlyannil exclaimed, standing suddenly. "You cannot be serious! I am not 
ready…nor will I be…I…" Thoughts of the young blonde elf slid unbidden into her 
mind, but she pushed them out angrily with a shake of her head. "No, I am not. Never." 
With that final word, she took one last look at Galadriel's laughing face and hastily 
stepped out of the room.

***************************************

The days came and went, and Erlyannil stayed in with Galadriel near the tops of the trees, 
only occasionally venturing down to walk by the springs or admire the blooming trees. 
She knew inwardly what she avoided in staying only near the upper reaches of the city. 
Erlyannil did not want to confront Lyndariel, to see how anxious her friend was for the 
announcement that would eventually come from Galadriel of the marriage.

And when that announcement finally did come, Erlyannil feared the city's reaction. She 
remained in her small room, preoccupying herself with an old hobby she had as a child of 
making sketches of the city, until the night the ceremony was scheduled to begin.

Erlyannil felt a strange unexplainable anxiety growing in her mind. It had lingered in her 
thoughts since Lyndariel had told her of her love for the outsider…and since then, 
Erlyannil felt a strange déjà vu surrounding the events. She pushed her dark hair out of 
her eyes, frustrated with her odd feelings, and hastily dressed herself in a slim silver 
gown that was laced with the golden leaves from the trees along the hem and collar. She 
pinned golden leaves into her hair, a decoration only worn for the most important of 
events. After all, it was Lyndariel's marriage to the young Elladin, and Erlyannil was 
unsure of how the event would transpire. She found herself breathing rather rapidly as 
she descended to the luminous grove in which the ceremonies would be held. 

When she finally reached it, her breath caught for a moment. The moonlight was 
streaming through the dense roof so that shafts of light cut through the peaceful scene. 
Everywhere, the Elves of Lorién were dressed ceremoniously, dancing gracefully, and to 
one side sat Galadriel and Celeborn, both regal on their thrones of carved wood. 

Galadriel smiled knowingly at her, and a sudden faraway look grew in the Lady's eyes. 
She is no longer young, Galadriel thought, watching the girl step timidly into the grove, 
she may be only fifteen years of age in the equivalent of the measures of the Men, yet she 
is so much older, so much wiser…perhaps it is time she knew the truth. It is a wonder that 
she never did ask about it. Galadriel's thoughts were interrupted by Celeborn at her side, 
who stood and held his hand, asking her to join in the dancing. 

Erlyannil smoothed out her dress with slightly sweating hands, cursing herself for feeling 
so strange. When she looked up, she saw Lyndariel, dressed in a pale, intricate white 
dress, dancing with Elladin. Lyndariel was radiant, and Erlyannil could see that Elladin 
saw her beauty, for he looked upon her in awe as they stepped in time to the lilting music 
of the Elves.

A light touch at her elbow caused her drifting gaze to focus once more, and she looked to 
her side.

"Your friend is beautiful," the Elf said. His words flowed out, low and smooth, in a half 
whisper. Erlyannil turned and found herself staring at the Elf dressed in a silver-blue 
tunic, his light hair reflecting the silver moonlight. "I regret…that we have never been 
properly introduced," he said, "I am Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood--"

"You are Thranduil's son?!" Erlyannil asked in dismay, interrupting him.

He paused for a moment. "…Yes. And you might be…?"

"Erlyannil Galadh," she replied, blushing slightly. 

"Galadh?" Legolas asked, a curious statement written on his face. "The word for tree…?"

"A name my foster mother, Galadriel, gave to me." Erlyannil looked toward the Lady, 
sitting elegantly as she watched the dances.

"Foster mother?" Legolas asked cautiously. It was a rare thing indeed to be the adopted 
daughter of the Lady Galadriel, but that explained his many questions about the girl's 
unusual wisdom. "Do you…know of your real parents?"

"I…" Erlyannil began, but she faltered, and the nagging sensation in the back of her mind 
grew suddenly. "I don't know, I never wondered," she whispered, more to herself than to 
answer the prince's query. 

Erlyannil saw the questions forming in the elf's mind, but he did not voice them. Instead, 
he held out his hand for her to take. She nearly placed her hand in his, but hesitated, 
suddenly aware that she had forgotten all of the past encounters with the young elf.

"Erlyannil," he whispered, "I am sorry for my light 'havior of late… I was only 
astonished to find one such as you--you move and speak and, therefore, think unlike one 
of your few years."

"And you? Are you not still younger than the trees?" Erlyannil asked him, a challenging 
statement growing in her eyes. She stepped backwards, aware of the too small distance 
that separated her from Legolas.

Legolas laughed then, a light and merry sound that, like the laugh of any elf, caused the 
hearts of any who heard it to feel a great warmth. "Younger than the trees, that is true," he 
said, obviously noticing her subtle retreat backwards, since he began to edge forward, 
"but I am your elder by hundreds of seasons. And still I am a youth among my people. 
Yet it seems that you may know things that I have yet to know myself…"

"The Lady taught me…no doubt, I do not know much else that you will not learn in 
time." Erlyannil's eyes swept over his face, and she noticed the youth still written on his 
features, glowing in his eyes.

Legolas again held out his hand. "Would you dance with me?" 

Erlyannil hesitated but smiled, and replied by placing her hand in his and allowing him to 
lead her away from the other dancers. Then he slid his hand down to her waist and 
twirled her to the sweet music around them. She began to feel dizzy and her heartbeat 
quickened. Legolas brought her nearer to him so that she could feel his heart beating 
against hers. He looked down deeply into her eyes, causing an unusual shiver to course 
through her. Erlyannil lowered her gaze to the ground.

"This union…is ill news," Legolas began, his voice secretive and pitched so that only she 
could hear. "I was sent here by my father to make peace, and it seemed that for a while 
we had accomplished this. But then, now this--I sense that my people and yours are not 
yet ready for a union between them. It may cause--"

"Havoc," she muttered under her breath, finally bringing her gaze back up to his face. 
"Yes, I know."

"My father refuses to give his consent to this marriage." Legolas' gaze looked out past 
her, as though focusing on something far away. His statement grew distant as he thought. 
"Just as he refused to give consent to the union of the two lovers that time…three 
hundred years ago. I barely remember, for I was but a yearling then, but I do remember 
that there was much trouble. The Elf--one of ours, from Mirkwood, he would not take no 
as an answer from my father. He went to steal his maiden away, but she was guarded by 
her family…and, in his rage, he killed her father and brothers. He did manage to escape 
with her, but when they reached the banks of the Anduin, my father sent people out to 
gather them back. It is a story that I have heard maybe once, and I do vaguely remember 
it; I do not know how it ends. But…history should not be given the chance to repeat 
itself."

"But it does, and it will," Erlyannil muttered barely audibly. She was too absorbed in her 
thoughts, those odd thoughts that had arisen when Legolas mentioned the union of two 
Elves three hundred years ago…

"Of course it will," he muttered, more to himself than to her. Then, "…I must confess 
something," Legolas whispered, after a time in which they spun to the melody, apart from 
the others. Erlyannil drew out of her thoughts and looked at him curiously. They stopped 
dancing, and Legolas' statement was grave, hopelessness showing in his blue eyes. "I 
know that it will happen again…it happened long ago, and it happens now with the 
maiden and Elladin…and now it threatens to happen once more."

Erlyannil's eyes betrayed her bewilderment. "I don't understand," she said.

Legolas said nothing for a time. Erlyannil stared at the trees nearby as the music was 
brought to a standstill. She brought her gaze to their feet, pondering the meaning of his 
words. Within moments the lyre struck up another melancholy melody, and a fearful 
thought occurred to her. 

"Aiya ancalima," Erlyannil whispered under her breath. She drew herself away from him 
so that she did not have to look into his earnest eyes. "Legolas, are you--"

Erlyannil was interrupted by a sudden angry shout from the other side of the grove. She 
and Legolas turned abruptly, and fell apart from each other as the commotion began. 

"You murderer!" an Elven maiden yelled from one of the entrances to the grove. An 
statement of twisted fury was written on her face, tears flying out of her eyes. In shock, 
Erlyannil recognized the girl to be Lyndariel's younger sister. Erlyannil's jaw dropped as 
she heard the girl's accusing words.

"You would dare to marry him! He is kindred of a killer, who killed our father! Lyndariel, 
listen to me! Our father was killed by these scoundrels, these bastards!!!" 

Lyndariel's face was ghost-white in shock. The entire city was watching as Elladin tried 
to comfort his soon-to-be wife, but Lyndariel pushed him away absent-mindedly. She 
stepped away and, with a dead look in her eyes, looked about her. Her eyes rested on 
Erlyannil for a moment before they rolled back into her head and she collapsed to the 
ground. Elladin was attempting to gather her in his arms and carry her out of the crowd 
beginning to gather around them to no avail. Celeborn was shouting something above the 
din of the astonished people, and Galadriel was grasping the arms of her wooden chair 
with trembling hands. 

And then Legolas was suddenly at Erlyannil's side, yelling something at her. But 
Erlyannil stepped away, memories recalled in her mind, and tears brewing in her eyes. 
She shook her head incoherently at the bewildered Legolas before racing off past him and 
disappearing from the grove. 

**********************

Chapter 4: Truth

Erlyannil ran from the grove, head pounding, tears burning her eyes. She felt her mind 
spinning, no longer aware of her legs moving beneath her. And so she stumbled, falling 
to her hands and knees, shudders coursing through her body. Erlyannil was scared. For 
what reason, she did not know. And angry, and…so many strange feelings ran rampant 
through her; she did not know what to think, or why she had run off. Sounds of the chaos 
she left behind still reached her ears dimly, and she shook her head in denial. Her 
shoulders shaking, tears fell from her eyes to shatter on the cold stone.

"Erlyannil," a voice whispered from behind. Hesitant footsteps on the stone pathway, and 
then silence. Erlyannil did not look up, though she knew that Legolas was kneeling at her 
side, a worried but puzzled statement on his face, those sharp eyes troubled. 

It was silent for several moments, and more shouts from the grove could be heard. 
Erlyannil felt a hand on her shoulder, and she was ashamed of her trembling. She finally 
lifted her head and sat back on her knees. 

"Erlyannil…" Legolas again whispered, reaching up to gently brush the hair out of her 
face. She did not pull back, but closed her eyes, squeezing the tears out.

"You don't understand," she answered, her voice barely audible. Her throat burned 
terribly and it hurt to swallow.

"You're right, I don't," Legolas said, "because first you have to tell me. What is it? Is it 
because of your friend? Or are you scared of what may happen…"

"No, I don't have to tell you!" she spat out through clenched teeth. Erlyannil struggled to 
stand, but her knees were shaking too badly. "Leave me alone…just leave me alone."

Legolas shook his head, peering into her eyes. She dropped her gaze to stare at the 
ground, but he gently held her face up so that she was forced to look at him. "Please…" 
he said, and she was suddenly frightened, though for some reason, she could not move. 
Legolas' eyes held an unusual look, and he bent nearer. Erlyannil could feel his breath on 
her face, and she shut her eyes as his lips brushed against hers. 

But their lips met only briefly, for she pulled away with a look of despondency. "You 
don't understand!" she shouted at him angrily, "no…how can you? You and your people 
come to our home, you…you come to seduce young maidens--like Lyndariel, and me, 
and…my mother!" 

Legolas stared after her speechlessly as she hiked up her now-torn dress and sped through 
the hedges out of sight. Her mother? 

***************************************

The white moon hung, balanced at the tip of the night sky. Erlyannil could see it if she 
peered through the canopy of golden leaves above her window. Unable to cry herself to 
sleep, she had waited at the window ledge of her room, listening to the sounds of the city 
beneath her. There were shouts, screams, and crying…Erlyannil's heart wept at the noises 
of the disorder of the city. 

But to her ears, she heard only endless weeping. In her mind she saw an entire city 
grouped around three blurred bodies, lying in the sacred grove where she had just been 
hours before. And the people were weeping for the dead, for her grandfather, her uncles--
one of whom was Lyndariel's father. But most of all, in her mind she heard women 
crying the name… Arlynn…my mother, she thought, why? Why did Galadriel never tell 
me? Of course…because she could not let me know the origin of my birth…to her, it was 
a union of such grief. But, that is not what troubles me. Why am I so scared? …Lyndariel, 
her father was killed by mine. What will happen to our city? 

She halted her thoughts to listen carefully. Thus far, she had not yet heard the sound of 
metal clashing with metal, or the whir of a swift arrow. Erlyannil drew in a quivering 
breath and buried her face in her hands.

"Erlyannil," a calm but strained voice said from the doorway. Erlyannil turned to face the 
Lady Galadriel. The Lady was worn, her face was pale, and her eyes held a heavy grief.

"Galadriel?" Erlyannil asked quietly, "what has happened?"

Galadriel sat on the bed and Erlyannil moved from her place by the window to sit next to 
her. "Mellen, there is great trouble. After Lyndariel collapsed…she has been in a restless 
fever ever since. Elladin has pleaded to see her, but the guards are forcing him out. And 
as for the rest of the Mirkwood Elves, they are under our protection, but, all the same, 
they are in danger. The people have calmed finally, and returned to their homes, but there 
is a restless air, that you, no doubt, can sense also. This event is too reminiscing 
of…something our people never did forget." Galadriel looked to the girl then, her eyes 
studying the girl's face.

"My mother and father…" Erlyannil began. Galadriel nodded knowingly and caressed the 
young girl's cheek with a warm hand.

"I am sorry, Erlyannil. That I never told you. I could not bring myself to put such a 
burden of grief on one so young and cheerful as you, nor could I break my vow to your 
mother. She begged of me never to tell you the truth. But, now, I think you have found 
the truth on your own."

"Partially. I…someone told me. But I felt so, so strange in that place, with events so 
reflecting of…the past. They were killed there, were they not? In that grove…"

Galadriel nodded resignatedly. "Yes. Arlynn's father and brothers were killed there. How 
did you find out? Who told you this?"

Erlyannil's eyes grew distant and she felt an odd pang of guilt. "That Elf…from 
Mirkwood. The son of Thranduil."

The Lady studied the girl's face carefully, and when she caught the look in the girl's eyes, 
she sighed a long sigh, and a worn statement came to her face. "Mellen, you have feelings 
for the son of Thranduil, do you not?"

"No, I--" Erlyannil stopped at a knowing glance from Galadriel. "Yes, but not how you 
would think it. I mean…my mother and father, and all that happened to this city because 
of their love, and now Lyndariel and Elladin. What is to come of it, Galadriel, what will 
happen?"

Galadriel smiled despite herself at the girl's haplessly youthful statement. But that smile 
soon faded when her thoughts drifted to the events of the past, the burning trees, threats 
of war against the Mirkwood Elves for breaking a strong, ancient oath and committing 
murder upon those of their kindred… 

Even now, Galadriel could not bring herself to understand how the forbidden love 
between two people could drive one to kill just to be with the other. Her thoughts then 
drifted to the young Lyndariel, Erlyannil's cousin, and the young Elf Elladin. What will 
happen to them? No doubt Thranduil does not know of this…I gave my consent. I gave 
consent to this--to violence? My people have not overcome old grudges, and with events 
repeating themselves, who knows what will happen to the young couple? Her gaze drifted 
to Erlyannil's worried face. What will happen to my dear Erlyannil? …I can see it in her 
eyes, the fear she tries to hide. What is it from? Is it because…of that young prince? 
Galadriel closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She must know the truth.

"Galadriel?" Erlyannil asked, and the Lady suddenly noticed that she had not called her 
how she used to since she set foot in this room. 

I am just Galadriel to her now…not her mother. Arlynn is her mother. She knows that 
now. Galadriel looked into the girl's eyes. "Young one, you must know the truth now. I 
have concealed it far too long."

Erlyannil nodded earnestly.

"After your father came here, he stole Arlynn away, and they escaped from Lorién. But 
Thranduil sent out scouts to find your father, and they came once the couple reached the 
Anduin. Then your father was taken prisoner to Mirkwood, and Arlynn was sent back 
here. She was quiet then, so quiet that we feared she was ill…it was not ill, 
but…pregnancy. While your father was kept prisoner in Mirkwood, no doubt being 
subjected to punishment, Arlynn gave birth to you. And then…" Galadriel hesitated, but 
forced herself to continue for the sake of the girl sitting next to her. "She found out 
somehow that your father was to be executed in Mirkwood, for committing murderous 
acts upon the Elves of Lorién. That was when she left you here--"

"I remember…vaguely, but I remember her." The smell of her, the very image of her, 
imprinted into my memories. O mother, why was love so cruel to you?

"--And she…she disappeared for several days. I was worried, and I sent word to 
Thranduil, but after the execution of your father, they did not see any sign of Arlynn. But 
later……she was found by the Anduin. She stabbed herself."

Erlyannil was silent. By now her eyes were dry; she could not shed another tear. But even 
if she could have, she was in too much shock to cry. "My mother…killed herself? And 
my father is dead. And that is why the people will not let Lyndariel and Elladin be 
together."

Galadriel nodded. Erlyannil shut her eyes against the light that was beginning to creep 
through her window with the coming of dawn.

*****************************
Chapter 5 – Daylight

She could not remember when the Lady left her room. It must have been near dawn, 
Erlyannil decided, her eyes still closed as her mind gradually woke. The golden sunlight 
of midday was streaming through her open window now, warming her skin as she sat, 
curled up, her head resting on her knees. Erlyannil had fallen into a light, disturbed 
slumber for the most part of the morning and she awoke to find the day half gone. 

Erlyannil felt no compulsion to venture down into the city or to speak to anyone. The 
Lady had disappeared, no doubt to console her people. What had happened last night? 
She blinked twice, then reached up to run cold fingers through damp hair. Erlyannil was 
fully awake now, and she recalled that she had cried herself to sleep. 

That's right, she thought, Lyndariel and Elladin. My mother and father. What will 
Galadriel do? No, what will she be able to do? People do not easily forget tragedies if 
they are reminded of it with every passing day. What am I going to do? The people here 
know my story, better than I know it myself. …Even Legolas knows it. 

With the thought of the young but shrewd son of Thranduil, her thoughts halted. 

Legolas…

He had not known why she was troubled by his story of the two young lovers, or why, 
when he had kissed her in the hedge, she had looked so frightened. Erlyannil drew in a 
shaky breath. 

Why am I so afraid of him? Because he recognized me in the trees and every time he 
looks at me, I feel like my entire soul is exposed to his eyes? Or because I am afraid of 
how I feel when I am near him. 

Erlyannil could hear the words repeating in her head, "I must confess something. I know 
that it will happen again. It happened long ago, and it happens now with the maiden and 
Elladin…and now it threatens to happen once more," Legolas had told her. That was 
what frightened her. Erlyannil rubbed her burning eyes and struggled to stand. History 
should not be given the chance to repeat itself. But it does, and it will. 

But things change, she thought in defiance to the words, and what I do is in my hands, 
not anyone else's. Why should I let history repeat itself? I refuse to let myself fall prey to 
what consumed my mother and father… 

There was a movement in the trees near her window, and she turned, her senses alert. 
Someone was moving in the tree branches, making way towards the small overhanging 
ledge of her window.

Erlyannil's heartbeat quickened as her eyes fell upon the young elf swinging with agile 
ease into her room. Legolas stood and she noticed his statement change from one of 
casual wariness to a look of despair as soon as he saw her watching him. Legolas' eyes 
wavered as he looked at her.

Once recovered from shock, she felt ashamed at her disheveled appearance. But then she 
came to again and resumed her defensive glare as he approached her. She noticed quite 
involuntarily that he was wearing a collared black tunic that only accentuated the pale of 
his face and eyes. 

Once he was within a foot of her, though, Erlyannil found herself unable to hold up her 
defenses any longer. Her statement faltered and her eyes betrayed her yielding to her 
feelings. Legolas' eyes were trained on her now, studying her face, and she could tell that 
he was breathing rapidly. He stopped finally, looking down at her, and he took her sweaty 
hand in his.

"Erlyannil Galadh…I have only just met you, but…" Legolas' voice was despondent.

Erlyannil could not speak. She was too conscious of the Elf's fingers caressing her own.

"I tried to tell you last night. That when I saw you amidst the golden leaves, I could not 
explain to myself the feelings that ran through me. And to be near you, to speak with you 
as I did last night…you have no idea how long the hours of the night were when I could 
not find you, when I was kept by the conflicts of the city. In all my travels I have never 
seen anyone with such effortless charisma…such grace, and such shrewd wisdom. I 
swear by Eärendil that I will never fully understand what it is about you, but that I will 
never find another like you."

Erlyannil stood stock-still, eyes wide in astonishment. When she did not reply, Legolas 
pleaded, "Erlyannil, do you not see the despair in my eyes?" He brought her hand to rest 
on his chest near his left shoulder. "Do you not feel the pounding of my heart?"

She gently pulled her hand away from where he held it. Having finally found her voice 
again, she began timidly, "Legolas, you are the son of the king of Northern Mirkwood. 
My guardian is the Lady of Lorién. Let me ask you my question: do you not see the 
barriers between…between…"

"Between us? Between our people? Erlyannil, you do not understand how irrepressible 
this is. Barriers do not stand in its way. You do not understand."

She laughed bitterly. "No, I don't. I don't understand why my father murdered for love. I 
don't understand why my mother killed herself for love. I don't understand why 
Lyndariel is so set on marrying her prince," she said, a sneer in her voice. "When 
obviously she is just as conscious as I am of the grudges that exist between two different 
races, the mistakes that one made in cowardliness and the mistakes of another in not 
forgiving!"

She was on the verge of tears and her voice was cracking, but she continued relentlessly. 
"You are right, of course, I don't understand at all. I don't understand why I feel the way 
I do when you are near me, or why you sneak into my room in the midst of turmoil, 
ignorant of what may happen between your people and mine just so you can say these 
words to me and torment me! Do you not see that I am the product of a marriage like 
Lyndariel's, one that did not prevail and that will never prevail? There are too many 
differences between our people, too many tragedies." Erlyannil stepped back from him 
and sat on the edge of her bed, angrily pulling at her hair. 

Legolas was speechless. He knelt and gently pulled her hands out of her hair, then ran his 
own fingers through the dark mass of tangles. He pushed the hair from her face and 
caressed her cheeks with his hands, wiping her angry tears away. Erlyannil finally raised 
her face to meet his eyes. Her eyes were red; the pain she had kept so long inside without 
ever acknowledging its presence finally unleashed. 

"I knew," she whispered, voice hoarse, "I knew from the beginning when Ma-ma left me 
here. That day when she knelt down and told me that she loved me forever and then 
deserted me. I saw the pain in her eyes, the suffering that would not cease until she ended 
her own life, when she prepared to leave me forever. I saw the sobs that racked her body 
when she was nearly gone…" She trailed off, unable to continue any longer.

"I never did know," he whispered, his voice just as quiet as hers, "and I'm sorry for it. 
I'm sorry for what I have done to you." He stood, and her gaze followed him. He looked 
down at her, all the despair gone from his eyes, replaced by a poignant look of 
resignation. "Some things change," he said, an edge of bitterness to his voice, "there are 
too many tragedies between our people, but they will learn to accept things as they are. 
We do not run from the future, we have to make it." He was silent for a moment, then he 
walked over to the open window, adding before he swung out onto a limb, "But I am not 
sorry that I fell in love with you."

 **************************