Two original characters: Arona Moonwing, elf. Nika Morchil, elf.
Setting: Mirkwood, 629 years after the Ring was lost after Isildur's death. That puts Legolas at exactly 500, going by his age in the film and my fuzzy math skills. It also brings up the "Mirkwood/Greenwood" controversy, but I've decided to go with Mirkwood.
"He's going to be mine."
Arona Moonwing looked down, starled by Nika's sudden anouncement. He turned his glittering blue eyes on her, a soft smile playing on his lips.
"The prince," he said, as if this was an obvious fact. "He's going to be mine."
Arona sighed deeply and returned her gaze to the full moon above the trees. "You and your conquests, Nika Morchil. Always thinking about who to possess next." She shook her head, but kept her eyes on the heavens. "Isn't he a little young?"
Nika grinned. "Not at all. He'll be 500 in only 6 days. And besides," he regarded Arona. "He is older than you. And yet you call him young."
Arona's gaze fell from the sky, but she deliberately avoided Nika'a eyes. "I am not the one you wish to deflower, Nika. Nor was I ever. You are 2,800 years old, and yet you spend all your time either with me, a mere 369 years old, or running around breaking the hearts of Elves who are not even in their 1000's. But now you are dreaming. One does not simply walk up and seduce a prince."
Nika laughed, a light, pleasantly musical sound that filled the night air like silver bells. "Dear Arona, surely you can see why you are such a joy to be with, even at your tender age," he said happily, reaching up a hand to stroke her fair hair. "You have always told things as you see them to be. But now, I'm afraid you are wrong. I can seduce the prince and I certainly will. I will find the way."
Arona now turned her own shining blue gaze on him, and her face seemed both sad and bemused.
"I do not doubt that you can find the way," she admitted. "You always have found the way to get what you want. Would it be that I were more like you."
Nika drew her close against him then, stroking the pale skin of her cheek with his free hand.
"You do not wish to be like me," he said softly. "And I do not wish to make you like me. I wish for you to one day know true love."
Arona looked into his eyes and smiled gently. He grinned back and leaned down to kiss her lips softly, briefly. It was an action he committed often, and it always gave Arona a sharp feeling of deprivation, but she would never speak of this. She had long wished for Nika to desire her, instead of being so obsessed with the conquest of young beautiful Elf males. But Nika's desires lay only in those proud Elves he so delighted in, and Arona had worked to turn her attentions elsewhere. She had finally found another who captured her fancy, but now Nika seemed determined, however unknowingly, to steal that from her to. She felt almost angry with Nika in that moment, and her heart ached with the strength of the feeling.
Arona looked to the sky as she sat in Nika's arms. She made herself a promise then: Nika would not have the prince. She would.
* * *
Arona's pace was lazy as she made her way through the forest, reveling in its song. The hour was early, only a bit after noon. Nika would consider her mad to even be awake at this hour, let alone out and about. She grinned at the thought of what he would say. Nika did not believe that anything worthwhile happened while the sun was out. He also firmly believed that Elves needed just as much sleep as Men (which Arona of course knew was completely untrue) and so he often took it; sleeping away the daylight hours.
Arona could never have been that way. As much as she loved the light of the moon, she also enjoyed the warmth of the sun, and made sure she was awake no later than noon on each day.
Arona was still contemplating these things, enjoying the sun and the song the forest sang only when touched by light, when she heard the unmistakable sound of an arrow being shot and then a second later, hitting a target. She stopped in her tracks. She was rather deep in the forest now, away from the comfortable dwellings of the other Elves of Mirkwood. She wondered who else would be this far out, at this time of the day. Her steps became silent, she moved quickly through the thick underbrush. There was a small clearing up ahead, and in it a single figure, firing arrows into a makeshift target. The Elf was muttering to himself, his stance was angry, and all of his arrows seemed to go wild. Arona tracked around the outside of the clearing, trying to get a look at the Elf's face while still staying out of the possible path of his arrows. She was coming dangerously close to that path when the Elf turned in her direction and his handsome face registered in her mind. It was the
prince.
"Arona?" he said uncertainly and she realized that he was looking right at her, his keen Elven eyes seeking her form right out of the underbrush where she hid, just as her eyes could have easily done the same. She slowly rose from her crouched position and stepped into the clearing.
The prince of Mirkwood watched her keenly as she approached him. Her steps were soft and deliberate, but she knew that she mustn't get too close. Still a good distance away from him, she stopped, bowed slightly.
"Prince Legolas," she said, quieting her voice, averting her eyes downward. She heard him scoff and looked up in time to see him fire another arrow into the target, which hit quite a distance from its center. He turned back to her, blue eyes all aflame and anger apparent.
"Skip the formalities," he said. "I'm in no mood for them now. Arona," his expression became pained. "Lets not drag this out and be awkward. All I want to know is where you have been for the past 4 months."
"Around," she said softly, relaxing her stance, and eyeing him as if awaiting his approval.
"Arona," Legolas said again. "Your father is Ralinul Moonwing, one of my father's advisers." He fired another arrow into the target, again missing what he aimed for; the target's center. "I would have thought to at least have seen you around the palace more often, attending one of my father's endless banquets and balls. I have not. Explain your absence to me."
Arona faltered. "I, uh, do not attend such things on most occasions. I am... I am elsewhere most nights." She did not wish to add that most nights, or rather every night, she was with Nika; for Nika had a reputation that surely the prince would know of, and she did not want him to associate her with that.
Legolas eyed her but despite his look of interest, did not ask where she might have been. He aimed for the target again, and this time missed it completely, the arrow sticking into a tree on the clearing's edge. He swore lightly and plucked another arrow from his quiver.
"If I may be so bold," Arona began just as Legolas released the arrow, which went wild and hit the ground before the target, "What are you doing out here at this time? And, all alone?"
Legolas strung another arrow and took quick aim, hitting the target far from its middle. "I'm escaping," he said, reaching back for another arrow. "My father is a good Elf, but he bustles about, hanging on everything I do, fussing about my upcoming 500th year celebration. I can't always deal with it." He launched the arrow, missed yet again.
"You're squinting when you're aiming," Arona said suddenly. Legolas turned to her slowly.
"I'm what?" He asked, eyeing her with a look she couldn't discern.
"Squinting," she repeated. "You're squinting while you're aiming. If you kept your eyes wide open, your aim would be better."
He gaped at her for a moment, and she was sure he was going to be angry, and ask her to leave him. Instead, his face went abruptly warm and he tittered. "Squinting, am I? Let me try again."
He fitted another arrow to the bowstring and pulled it back. His eyes narrowed a bit, and then returned to normal with a conscious effort. He let the arrow fly.
It struck the target in the very center, a clean shot that went in straight. He stared at it with no emotion for a bit, and then a grin broke on his face and he looked happy like a child. He turned to Arona and smiled. A pinkish flush had come over his pale cheeks, his teeth were white and perfect, he was tall and stood straight, a light gust of wind was carrying a few strands of his platinum hair across his face, and his blue eyes were full of sparkles. He was glorious in the sunlight; impossibly beautiful and for a moment Arona stared at him, letting herself revel in the way he looked.
But then his smile faded and he stared at her quizzically.
"Arona?" He said. "Are you alright?"
She shook her head to clear it and spoke quickly. "Yes, I'm fine. I was just, uh, thinking about... about something."
He regarded her briefly, still looking puzzled, but then he seemed overcome by his accomplishment and his smile returned. "Hundreds of years of royal archery training," he said with a laugh, "Only for you to perfect my skills by telling me not to squint!" He placed his bow upon the ground then and walked slowly up to Arona, suddenly looking a bit shy.
"I have missed you Arona," he said awkwardly, looking down. "I was saddened when you stopped coming to the banquets and the balls. And... my heart ached when you stopped coming to my bedchambers at night."
Arona reached up slowly, caressed the prince's soft cheek, still flushed with color.
"We were never going anywhere, Legolas," she said sadly. "I came to your bedchambers at night but, what did we ever do? We would talk, we would kiss, but nothing more ever happened. I wasn't ready for that then. I felt... I was uncomfortable." She found herself unable to say anymore. It felt too strange, to suddenly be pouring her heart out to Legolas again. It had been 4 months since she had last gone to his chambers. Such a time was no more than a flash in the eternal life of an Elf, but still had changed things between Legolas and herself. She had fled that night, and she had never gone back. She had found Nika, and had given her soul to him. And gotten nothing in return.
Legolas spoke, as if he had read her mind. "Your father always say that you are tired, busy, or ailing and cannot come to the palace regularly. But there are rumours, Arona. Rumours that say that you spend all of your nights with Nika Morchil. Is that true?"
Arona gazed into his eyes and nodded softly. He looked down briefly, and then met her eyes seriously.
"Have you given yourself to him, Arona?"
Arona returned Legolas's serious look. She shook her head. "No," she said firmly. "He does not desire me in that way. We merely... learn from each other."
Legolas nodded, and turned away, back to his bow. He plucked it from the ground, fitted an arrow, and shot it into the center of the target. Arona watched him in silence, and then her gaze fell to the sky. The sun was getting on toward the west.
"We should both be returning to our homes," she said, and Legolas merely looked at her and nodded. She turned to go, when suddenly Legolas's hand was gripping her arm.
"Come to my chamber tomorrow night," in his voice it was a command, but in his eyes he was pleading. Arona nodded, coudn't think of anything to say, and so turned and hurried back into the woods, leaving Legolas standing alone in the waning sunlight in the clearing.
Another pair of eyes watched Legolas as he gathered his arrows. Nika was crouched low in the brush on the edge of the little clearing, and had watched the entire exchange. His blood was burning. Arona had never told him of any previous close relationship she had had with the prince. You never asked, he chided himself, but she should have told him. Especially after what he had said last night. She had lied. She had merely said that she knew the prince socially, through her father. It wasn't true. They had once been in love.
Nika watched the prince leave the clearing, lust for him and anger at Arona boiling in his veins. So the prince wanted Arona to meet him tomorrow night, did he? Well, the prince was going to have a visitor on that very night then. Nika was determined to have him. He rose quietly, and moved off through the trees, following the blonde haired elf as he returned to the palace.
Setting: Mirkwood, 629 years after the Ring was lost after Isildur's death. That puts Legolas at exactly 500, going by his age in the film and my fuzzy math skills. It also brings up the "Mirkwood/Greenwood" controversy, but I've decided to go with Mirkwood.
"He's going to be mine."
Arona Moonwing looked down, starled by Nika's sudden anouncement. He turned his glittering blue eyes on her, a soft smile playing on his lips.
"The prince," he said, as if this was an obvious fact. "He's going to be mine."
Arona sighed deeply and returned her gaze to the full moon above the trees. "You and your conquests, Nika Morchil. Always thinking about who to possess next." She shook her head, but kept her eyes on the heavens. "Isn't he a little young?"
Nika grinned. "Not at all. He'll be 500 in only 6 days. And besides," he regarded Arona. "He is older than you. And yet you call him young."
Arona's gaze fell from the sky, but she deliberately avoided Nika'a eyes. "I am not the one you wish to deflower, Nika. Nor was I ever. You are 2,800 years old, and yet you spend all your time either with me, a mere 369 years old, or running around breaking the hearts of Elves who are not even in their 1000's. But now you are dreaming. One does not simply walk up and seduce a prince."
Nika laughed, a light, pleasantly musical sound that filled the night air like silver bells. "Dear Arona, surely you can see why you are such a joy to be with, even at your tender age," he said happily, reaching up a hand to stroke her fair hair. "You have always told things as you see them to be. But now, I'm afraid you are wrong. I can seduce the prince and I certainly will. I will find the way."
Arona now turned her own shining blue gaze on him, and her face seemed both sad and bemused.
"I do not doubt that you can find the way," she admitted. "You always have found the way to get what you want. Would it be that I were more like you."
Nika drew her close against him then, stroking the pale skin of her cheek with his free hand.
"You do not wish to be like me," he said softly. "And I do not wish to make you like me. I wish for you to one day know true love."
Arona looked into his eyes and smiled gently. He grinned back and leaned down to kiss her lips softly, briefly. It was an action he committed often, and it always gave Arona a sharp feeling of deprivation, but she would never speak of this. She had long wished for Nika to desire her, instead of being so obsessed with the conquest of young beautiful Elf males. But Nika's desires lay only in those proud Elves he so delighted in, and Arona had worked to turn her attentions elsewhere. She had finally found another who captured her fancy, but now Nika seemed determined, however unknowingly, to steal that from her to. She felt almost angry with Nika in that moment, and her heart ached with the strength of the feeling.
Arona looked to the sky as she sat in Nika's arms. She made herself a promise then: Nika would not have the prince. She would.
* * *
Arona's pace was lazy as she made her way through the forest, reveling in its song. The hour was early, only a bit after noon. Nika would consider her mad to even be awake at this hour, let alone out and about. She grinned at the thought of what he would say. Nika did not believe that anything worthwhile happened while the sun was out. He also firmly believed that Elves needed just as much sleep as Men (which Arona of course knew was completely untrue) and so he often took it; sleeping away the daylight hours.
Arona could never have been that way. As much as she loved the light of the moon, she also enjoyed the warmth of the sun, and made sure she was awake no later than noon on each day.
Arona was still contemplating these things, enjoying the sun and the song the forest sang only when touched by light, when she heard the unmistakable sound of an arrow being shot and then a second later, hitting a target. She stopped in her tracks. She was rather deep in the forest now, away from the comfortable dwellings of the other Elves of Mirkwood. She wondered who else would be this far out, at this time of the day. Her steps became silent, she moved quickly through the thick underbrush. There was a small clearing up ahead, and in it a single figure, firing arrows into a makeshift target. The Elf was muttering to himself, his stance was angry, and all of his arrows seemed to go wild. Arona tracked around the outside of the clearing, trying to get a look at the Elf's face while still staying out of the possible path of his arrows. She was coming dangerously close to that path when the Elf turned in her direction and his handsome face registered in her mind. It was the
prince.
"Arona?" he said uncertainly and she realized that he was looking right at her, his keen Elven eyes seeking her form right out of the underbrush where she hid, just as her eyes could have easily done the same. She slowly rose from her crouched position and stepped into the clearing.
The prince of Mirkwood watched her keenly as she approached him. Her steps were soft and deliberate, but she knew that she mustn't get too close. Still a good distance away from him, she stopped, bowed slightly.
"Prince Legolas," she said, quieting her voice, averting her eyes downward. She heard him scoff and looked up in time to see him fire another arrow into the target, which hit quite a distance from its center. He turned back to her, blue eyes all aflame and anger apparent.
"Skip the formalities," he said. "I'm in no mood for them now. Arona," his expression became pained. "Lets not drag this out and be awkward. All I want to know is where you have been for the past 4 months."
"Around," she said softly, relaxing her stance, and eyeing him as if awaiting his approval.
"Arona," Legolas said again. "Your father is Ralinul Moonwing, one of my father's advisers." He fired another arrow into the target, again missing what he aimed for; the target's center. "I would have thought to at least have seen you around the palace more often, attending one of my father's endless banquets and balls. I have not. Explain your absence to me."
Arona faltered. "I, uh, do not attend such things on most occasions. I am... I am elsewhere most nights." She did not wish to add that most nights, or rather every night, she was with Nika; for Nika had a reputation that surely the prince would know of, and she did not want him to associate her with that.
Legolas eyed her but despite his look of interest, did not ask where she might have been. He aimed for the target again, and this time missed it completely, the arrow sticking into a tree on the clearing's edge. He swore lightly and plucked another arrow from his quiver.
"If I may be so bold," Arona began just as Legolas released the arrow, which went wild and hit the ground before the target, "What are you doing out here at this time? And, all alone?"
Legolas strung another arrow and took quick aim, hitting the target far from its middle. "I'm escaping," he said, reaching back for another arrow. "My father is a good Elf, but he bustles about, hanging on everything I do, fussing about my upcoming 500th year celebration. I can't always deal with it." He launched the arrow, missed yet again.
"You're squinting when you're aiming," Arona said suddenly. Legolas turned to her slowly.
"I'm what?" He asked, eyeing her with a look she couldn't discern.
"Squinting," she repeated. "You're squinting while you're aiming. If you kept your eyes wide open, your aim would be better."
He gaped at her for a moment, and she was sure he was going to be angry, and ask her to leave him. Instead, his face went abruptly warm and he tittered. "Squinting, am I? Let me try again."
He fitted another arrow to the bowstring and pulled it back. His eyes narrowed a bit, and then returned to normal with a conscious effort. He let the arrow fly.
It struck the target in the very center, a clean shot that went in straight. He stared at it with no emotion for a bit, and then a grin broke on his face and he looked happy like a child. He turned to Arona and smiled. A pinkish flush had come over his pale cheeks, his teeth were white and perfect, he was tall and stood straight, a light gust of wind was carrying a few strands of his platinum hair across his face, and his blue eyes were full of sparkles. He was glorious in the sunlight; impossibly beautiful and for a moment Arona stared at him, letting herself revel in the way he looked.
But then his smile faded and he stared at her quizzically.
"Arona?" He said. "Are you alright?"
She shook her head to clear it and spoke quickly. "Yes, I'm fine. I was just, uh, thinking about... about something."
He regarded her briefly, still looking puzzled, but then he seemed overcome by his accomplishment and his smile returned. "Hundreds of years of royal archery training," he said with a laugh, "Only for you to perfect my skills by telling me not to squint!" He placed his bow upon the ground then and walked slowly up to Arona, suddenly looking a bit shy.
"I have missed you Arona," he said awkwardly, looking down. "I was saddened when you stopped coming to the banquets and the balls. And... my heart ached when you stopped coming to my bedchambers at night."
Arona reached up slowly, caressed the prince's soft cheek, still flushed with color.
"We were never going anywhere, Legolas," she said sadly. "I came to your bedchambers at night but, what did we ever do? We would talk, we would kiss, but nothing more ever happened. I wasn't ready for that then. I felt... I was uncomfortable." She found herself unable to say anymore. It felt too strange, to suddenly be pouring her heart out to Legolas again. It had been 4 months since she had last gone to his chambers. Such a time was no more than a flash in the eternal life of an Elf, but still had changed things between Legolas and herself. She had fled that night, and she had never gone back. She had found Nika, and had given her soul to him. And gotten nothing in return.
Legolas spoke, as if he had read her mind. "Your father always say that you are tired, busy, or ailing and cannot come to the palace regularly. But there are rumours, Arona. Rumours that say that you spend all of your nights with Nika Morchil. Is that true?"
Arona gazed into his eyes and nodded softly. He looked down briefly, and then met her eyes seriously.
"Have you given yourself to him, Arona?"
Arona returned Legolas's serious look. She shook her head. "No," she said firmly. "He does not desire me in that way. We merely... learn from each other."
Legolas nodded, and turned away, back to his bow. He plucked it from the ground, fitted an arrow, and shot it into the center of the target. Arona watched him in silence, and then her gaze fell to the sky. The sun was getting on toward the west.
"We should both be returning to our homes," she said, and Legolas merely looked at her and nodded. She turned to go, when suddenly Legolas's hand was gripping her arm.
"Come to my chamber tomorrow night," in his voice it was a command, but in his eyes he was pleading. Arona nodded, coudn't think of anything to say, and so turned and hurried back into the woods, leaving Legolas standing alone in the waning sunlight in the clearing.
Another pair of eyes watched Legolas as he gathered his arrows. Nika was crouched low in the brush on the edge of the little clearing, and had watched the entire exchange. His blood was burning. Arona had never told him of any previous close relationship she had had with the prince. You never asked, he chided himself, but she should have told him. Especially after what he had said last night. She had lied. She had merely said that she knew the prince socially, through her father. It wasn't true. They had once been in love.
Nika watched the prince leave the clearing, lust for him and anger at Arona boiling in his veins. So the prince wanted Arona to meet him tomorrow night, did he? Well, the prince was going to have a visitor on that very night then. Nika was determined to have him. He rose quietly, and moved off through the trees, following the blonde haired elf as he returned to the palace.
