Spies and Moonlight - By Jumpinpoptarts
A/N: Hello Everyone! Its been a long time (when hasn't it?). Shortest entry to date, I think, but I hope it goes down well.
This little ficcie is dedicated entirely to Mary, who I went to see LOTR the show with in London last weekend. It was STUNNING, but the little pervert in me started making a fuss, so I had to write something to go with the experience...aaand since she was completely obsessed with the person playing Legolas, I don't think she'll mind if I write about him!
Yaoi if you like, any pairing involving Legolas that you like really (the only details I put in about the Spy is that they're mortal and possibly part of the Fellowship, which leaves plenty of candidates really.) You can always pretend its Eowyn, who's suddenly decided to come to Lorien, whatever. I don't want to upset anyone I did have someone in mind when I wrote it but...
Tell you what, tell me who you imagined it to be in a comment! Please? I'd love to know if I've got it right!
Hope you like this, Mary! (and hope I haven't wittered too much, anyone else!)
N.b: FIRST LOTR FIC EVER, PEOPLE! BE NICE!
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Ice in the trees.
The moon rides high over the darkened canopy, pouring through the leaves to shimmer in your hair and etch your parted lips with silver.
I am bewitched.
A mile south, the rest of our fellowship sleeps under the boughs of Lorien, curled close beneath their elven cloaks. I saw each face and I rose and left them; slack, dreaming, undisturbed by the need that still courses through my veins like insolent fire. It too craves something elven to keep it warm, but nothing so simple as a cloak.
You were sparring when I found you, the lithe shapes of your limbs almost invisible against the slender white willow at your back. I watched as you whirled those glistening blades high above your head, as though you had plucked twin silver rays from the grasp of the very stars.
I shift, a leaf crackles and puts and end to your dance. The blades lower, sheathe, your easy grace curling inwards like a spring.
Your face is impassive, but my eyes, ever attentive, can see the tiny movements of your fingers as they inch towards your bow.
I have lingered too long.
I turn away, using all my skill to hide my form from those keen eyes. I am mortal, and in another time, another place, such a task would have been impossible, yet the sight of you awakes powers within me that neither my mind nor my tongue can span; so much so that every day with you becomes less about the ring and more a battle to keep myself in line. What will another week do to me? Another month?
Another hour?
The white willow has vanished from sight, and somewhere beyond the leaves I hear steel sing as you draw your blades once more. You will be back before sunrise, and I must be long asleep, lest you come to suspect that tonight's spy be more familiar than some wandering orc.
The ground beneath my head is hard, the cool of Lorien both stifling and freezing in the same breath. Behind my eyelids I see you again beneath the willow, the arch of your back, the pale lines of your lashes, and feel them all beneath my hands with clarity that only a mind deluded can create. I know every detail as intimately as my own face…yet my story is already written, and you and I will too soon be parted, myself bound to this Earth and you to that far land across the sea.
But there is still time; a mere handful of pages left to cherish before the story takes you beyond me, like a meteor passing a star. Until then I will remain with you, distant and close and always, always hoping.
Yours, everlastingly.
A spy beneath the moon.
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