Disclamier: Tolkien owns everythin' here, unfortunatly.
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She walked upon the room. Just the other day, Grima Wormtongue had sent her here, to his room. She did nothing to stop herself, nor him. Even at the harsh words that spill past her gritted teeth, she did not leave. She wasn't condemed there; she could have left at any point. It was that she did not want to. That she couldn't. She craved for his touch. Those times when his frozen hand creeped to her cheek was when she would finally feel the warmth in her body.
As she passed the bed, her fingers slid over the fur blanket. It was when she fled, that her body froze. She needed to feel his touch once more. She was frozen inside, she needed warmth. She did not want the cold touch of life to wash her, to make her its slave. She wanted to feel loved; to feel needed; to be wanted. To be warm.
She could no longer bear her mask with all its crack. She dropped, the tears that were once hidden flew freely down her pale cheeks. Her hands grasped the fur, her head buried in her arms. The golden air that once reflected the sun, scattered about her. It dulled as a new coin dulls with time.
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His ears perked as Legolas walked the halls of Rohan's castle. Tears, crys, sobs, all from the same. He looked to his friends; greatly enjoying themselves. He would not be missed, for he would not be long. At least he hoped. With that, he followed the cries. They led down many twist and turns, many hallways that ended too quick, others ending to long. But the crys never ceased.
One more twist, the crys became louder. Many more later, he stood before a doorway of a room. The room, cloaked in fur, held a darkness that Legolas feared. Upon the bed, he saw a frail being, shaking like a rattle. He looked upon them, a woman he infered, in question. It was Lady Éowyn. But why would she be crying? Why would these tears of which hold nothing but pain slip from such a fair maiden?
He walked to her, his footsteps with the sounds of the air. Unnoticed and quiet as a mice's scurries, the chamber door shut did not over powered them both. But unnoticed as well it went. He brought himself to her, his fingers brushing to her chin.
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A hand, so gingerly, raised her tear soaked head. Their warmth slipped upon her cold chin. It was him. He had, somehow, returned. As though her heart still hated it, it still leapt for joy. Alas, as her eyes became upon a pair of sapphire, that joy was crushed. The tears did not stop as she looked upon the elven prince. He studied her, the look of pity and disgust upon his eyes. She could not look upon them, so she pulled away from the warmth of his fingers.
Her body moved to the window sill, placing herself upon the black velvet seat there. He had always loved that color. She pushed the curtains, looking out on the night sky that fell upon her uncle's kingdom. The stars seemed to hide themselves from her, the moon shutting the clouds so that her light did not shine upon the blonde princess. She sighed as the tears began to triple. Even the emptiness of the midnights did not want her coldness welcomed.
She could feel the elven eyes upon her, but she did not turn. She could not look into those eyes that could forever more hold the happiness and joy that she had when she was a child. She could not, for fear that she might lose one more person that could help her. That could give her that warmth her body needed.
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He looked to her as she stared vacantly upon the window's sightings. Such a beautiful woman she was, surpassing any elven beauty he had ever seen. "My Lady Éowyn," He spoke in such a hushed tone that you not think she would have heard. She muttered a signal for him, answering his call. "why do you cry?" he asked.
He heard her sigh, waiting patiently for his answer. She turned from the window, her gaze still avoid of his. "I cry...for I miss him." She answered. The tears had stopped many moments ago, but she took heed to remove the streaks. "Who, my Lady?" "Wormtongue. He was the only one who could heal me. His cold touch was the only thing that could warm my body. Without it...I fear I shall crumble behind my walls. I fear that I shall become a Queen of Ice, dying without an attempt of a healer, for I shall be so cold that I could not show such a weakness." Her answers shocked the elven prince. "I had come, every night, to his chambers. He would hold me, kiss me, love me as no other being could. His cold touch was my only cling to this cruel life I have owned. But, now that he is gone, I shall become his last words. A morning of pale spring still clinging to winter's chill."
He shook his head, stepping close to her. His elvish steps went unnoticed as he kneeled beside her form. He brought his hand, her cheek pulled to his palm so her brown met his blue. "My Princess, you shall never be such a horrid item. You are a princess and a beautiful woman. One day, a wonderous queen you will become, with a man to love you be your side. A pale spring of winter's past does not fit you. Not ever shall a horror become of your truth."
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She pulled from his touch, walking to the frame of Grima's bed. Her hand rested upon the rim of part of a cold, silver metal post. Ontop, was thrown a black fur canopy. "My lord Legolas, how do you do it?" She looked upon him as he asked what she had meant. "How do make such a gruesome false sound so true? How do make something of the extrodinary impossible seem...possible?"
She for once actually heard him close in on her. That same hand slipped its palm to her cheek, pushing her sunshine locks away from her pale, cold face. "Because, my lady, I can never speak lies. What I say I believe will one day come true. I believe that there is a man out there that can love you better than that pesky goblin could. You just have to be patient and wait for him to come." He slowly made a smile, wiping the tears that slowly made their way down her cheeks. "Love will come, milady. You just have to wait."
She gave in to his touch. Not one calluse could be found of the smooth palm. Her eyes closed as her shaking hands placed themselves upon his hand. For once, for as long as she could remember, the winter's touch disappeared. Not lingering like it had with Grima. Absolutely gone. Not a trace. Just the warmth of the sun glowed within her body. A light. Hope.
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He looked at her, she looked at him. A brush of the lips came, responded by both elf and the maiden. His hand removed itself from beneath her fingers, brushing down to her waist, pulling her close. He felt her fingers wrap themselves around his slender neck. Their kiss became deeper as their emotions hightened. The warmth of the sun overwealmed them as the feeling of love volumed to such a height inside them, lust could only fulfill it. So thus, they fell upon Grima's bed...
And the rest is a happily ever after.
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Yey! Leggie roxs! hugs a leggie doll Grima eats filthy soxs! strangles Brad Dourif ;) so, whattaya think? Reveiw plez!!!
If u do and u are a reader of my other stories, I'll get them goin', I promise:)
