Elwin – Eternal Love

Note: It was fun writing this chapter – for some reason I always imagined Legolas to be rather a handful as a young Elfling for poor Thranduil, so it was fun adding a little bit of that in ;)

Hopefully more fluff between Legolas and Elwin in this chapter! Believe me, more jealously will appear soon and hopefully it will be worth the wait… mwahaha.

Enjoy!

~ Chapter 4 ~

It was nice when we settled down to camp for the night; instead of us all splitting apart when we began to set up like last time (what with some of us crawling away to go to sleep as soon as we had gotten everything sorted while the others stayed up), a camp fire was kindled straight away and we all sat around to talk, sing and share stories. Merry and Pippin laid out a feast of all the food they had brought with them from Isengard, as well as a small keg of ale, which was shared generously between us all (it was best to try and drink it all now, as there was no way we would lug the thing back with us).

I had ended up between Legolas and Éomer, which was strange to say the least. Éomer and I had become fairly close friends by now, and Legolas was, well, he was Legolas and I enjoyed his company – but the two of them together was... uncomfortable. They had never been particularly fond of each other, I don't think, I somehow I felt my presence that was meant to be keeping them apart (instead of at each other's throats) was making it worse.

Somehow, as the night bore on and the stars began to litter the sky, the subject had turned to the Elf on my left – he had been very quiet while Éomer was talking, absent-mindedly toying with a braid in his hair while his mind was elsewhere, and surprisingly Gandalf was the one to comment on his sudden stillness.

"My goodness, how you appear to have changed, master Legolas," Gandalf had boomed after a few moments of watching him. "Such an exuberant child you used to be, and now so very quiet!"

Everyone laughed as Legolas' head shot up at the mention of his name, shadows and orange light from the fire dancing on his face. Blinking a few times, he turned to look a Gandalf quizzically.

"Your father and I always agreed that you were rather a troublesome little rascal as an Elfling." He winked and inhaled deeply on his pipe (Merry and Pippin had made sure we had stocked up on pipe weed from Saruman's stocks before we had left, as well – I didn't smoke, and I wasn't sure about Legolas, but the others certainly had no objections). "Never could follow any orders without some sort of complaint or form of backtalk! You certainly gave your poor minder something to work with – at least now you can sit silently without fidgeting every few moments!"

Legolas, who was smiling though his eyes were wide with shock and embarrassment, wrung his hands together, words unable to leave his mouth; it seemed he was rather taken aback by Gandalf's sudden comment. I giggled as he shifted his gaze over to me, unsure what to say in return.

"Well, that certainly has not changed much," Aragorn commented wryly on Legolas' uncomfortable shifts where he sat, grinning fondly underneath the shadows on his face.

With a satisfied smirk, I watched his cheeks colour with shame. Strangely, it was rather nice seeing him get embarrassed and teased by his friends.

"That's funny," I said to him, turning to face him full on with a wide grin plastered on my features, "I never pictured you being a brat as child."

"I do not remember me being a particularly difficult Elfling…" he coughed quietly under his breath, raising his eyebrows at Gandalf and saying a little louder, "Nor do I ever remember Mithrandir having such conversations with my father about my behaviour!"

Breathing out a few smoke rings, Gandalf chuckled, "Oh, that is not even the worst of it, dear Legolas – I seem to remember eavesdropping being a worse one of your habits, and your father agreed." The wizard looked up and caught my eye, ignoring Legolas' splutters and awkward coughs with a knowing smile. "In the end, King Thranduil resorted to keeping the young master in his chambers while their meetings took place – but, of course, you then learned to pick the locks with the tip of your sword or an arrow head!"

"A skill which has proved me to be quite useful during the years," Legolas sniffed, trying to regain some of his dignity. Gimli (who was placed on the other side of him) sniggered and clapped him on the back a few times in a poor attempt of comfort. "Oh, Eru, you make it sound as if I were a burden on my father! Besides," he continued with another cough, looking over to me again with a slight smile, "I always heard my name while they spoke oh so secretly in the meeting hall and I was only ever curious as to what they might be saying."

Gandalf's pointed hat teetered on his head as he laughed, and I heard Merry and Pippin sniggering as they consumed the last of the drink. "And I suppose you expected to hear all good words?" Legolas blushed an even deeper shade of scarlet, but laughed along good naturedly.

Pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face into his hands, Legolas shrunk away from all our jests and laughter. "What is this? The day we all tell embarrassing stories about my childhood?"

"Well, it does make for a rather interesting topic of dinner entertainment," Gimli said with a snide smile. Legolas groaned.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry, mister Legolas," Pippin told him, biting a huge chunk out of an apple and then continuing with his mouth full, "Merry and I have done much worse!"

Merry nodded along enthusiastically. "I reckon that if these stories are true, then we would have become fast friends with your younger self!"

"Oh, they are true," Aragorn said, raising an eyebrow at Legolas who began blushing profusely again, "and you were even worse when paired with Elladan and Elrohir!"

"Elladan and Elrohir?" I asked, pursing my lips – I recognised the names, but I don't think I had ever met or heard too much about these two. Were they not the twin sons of Lord Elrond?

The Elves in Firen were always slightly more excluded from the rest of the Elven settlements, so I was usually a little clueless when it came to things like this.

Aragorn nodded, bringing the tip of his pipe to his mouth again. "Lord Elrond's sons," he confirmed for me, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips, "and technically also my brothers – I was always very young when Legolas chanced a visit to see them, but even back then I knew that the three of them together were never good news!" He shook his head, reminiscing and laughing quietly. "I felt especially sorry for King Thranduil and Lord Elrond, who had to deal with them all as Elflings – not to mention myself, as I was usually dragged into their mischief one way or another."

By this point, Legolas was verging on a deep beetroot red. "M-my apologies, Aragorn…" he stuttered out, hiding his face from us, "Your brothers and I never meant any harm!"

It was strange trying to picture Aragorn as a child, and even stranger attempting to imagine Legolas roping him into pranks and getting him into trouble. Another thing that had struck me (although I was a little to shy to ask about) was the reference to Thranduil, the Elven-king of Mirkwood. I had never had the courage to ask, nor had I ever been told much about Legolas' family (though he had once mentioned once the lack of a mother-figure). I knew he was from Mirkwood… but was Thranduil really his father? How had I never come to realise this?

That meant Legolas was a prince…

I suddenly felt my face going as red as Legolas' – he was a prince, and not just any prince but that of King Thranduil's line of blood. The Elves of Firen were once Mirkwood Elves… does that mean Legolas had rule over me still? Of course, I always guessed he held a higher status than me (though it wasn't that hard to beat my rather meagre status of a simple, half-blood scout of Firen) but a prince?

We had kissed. I wonder what his father might think of his son and (for lack of a better word) a hybrid scout? Or worse, what might the Elven-king think of his son if we were ever to wed…

I shook my head, ridding my mind of those particular thoughts – marriage was certainly not what I wanted to think about, especially when the object of my desire was sitting less than two feet away from me.

Merry and Pippin (who were enjoying the childhood tales as much as I was) were giggling along with me, the three of us finding it hard to stop smiling. Things were almost back to normal again, in one sense – at least the sombre mood had been extinguished and we were all chatting merrily again, as old friends (and new friends, when taking into account Merry and Pippin, although that only really applied to me as the others were already acquainted with the two Hobbits). Although things had not entirely calmed, at least now things were settling down, and it felt good to laugh once more.

Gandalf breathed out another smoke ring and chuckled in his deep, gravely tones, "And then there was the time the young master Elf dyed his hair, in an attempt of rebellion against his father…"

"The sun has long since gone now; do you not think we should all be going to sleep?" Legolas interrupted before Gandalf could finish, ending with a nervous laugh, fidgeting restlessly with the hem of his cloak. His entire face had now gone redder than the fruit I expected he used to stain the pale golden locks.

I rolled my eyes with a small, amused sigh, catching his pleading gaze yet again and smirking. "As much as I am sure we would all enjoy hearing that story… Legolas is right. If we want to make it back to Edoras in good time tomorrow, then we best be off to sleep."

Merry and Pippin groaned, already anxious to listen to the unfortunate (albeit surely hilarious) tale, but Legolas just smiled at me gratefully. "Thank you," he mouthed to me and I laughed.

"I expect for you yourself to tell me another time," I whispered under my breath in return. Then, continuing out loud once more, I offered to take the first watch.

"No, no," Éomer said, taking me by surprise – I had been so caught up in all the stories and he had been so quiet that I had almost forgotten that he was there. "I can take first watch for you – you should sleep, and I doubt that there would be a particularly large amount of danger to look out for now we are getting closer to Edoras." Éomer's hazel eyes darkened, flickering between Legolas and myself, before settling on myself. "The last few nights have been rather quiet, it would make no difference."

Before I could say anything about how I wasn't very tired and could easily stay up for a few more hours, Legolas had piped up for me (having recovered fully from his previous ordeal of being relentlessly teased by Gandalf and Aragorn). "I'm sure Elwin can look after herself," the Elf told him bluntly, kneeling and placing a hand on the crevice of my neck. It is you and King Théoden who will need the most sleep out of all of us, if you want to make an entrance when we reach Edoras."

Éomer's eyes narrowed and his lips tightened at being spoken down to – though taller by the head than Legolas when standing up, Legolas was almost leaning over the sitting man when perched on his knees. "You would not wish to tire the poor girl?"

"I do not, but I have known her for far longer than you have and if she wants to take the watch then I know she will cope."

I sighed – that certainly had not been what he had said before the battle, when he had tried to convince me not to fight at the risk of my death. Couldn't Legolas make up his mind already?

I tilted my chin upwards to catch Legolas' attention, pressing my palm over where his fingers touched my skin. "If Éomer wants to take the shift in my place then he can," I said in a quiet voice, and Legolas' face ignited with an array of different gestures that altogether made up a rather unpleasant scowl.

There was a short moment where no one spoke, but I could practically feel the heat and daggers that were shot between the two bristling men in but one mere shared look.

~xXx~

I wasn't asleep for very long; a quiet scuffle and my feet being shifted ever so slightly soon brought me back to consciousness. It was still dark, the blackened violet of night broken by soft orange glow just a few feet away from me.

It was the fire, still smouldering gently, and as I sat up and blinked away the sleepy haze a figure was made visible, crouched over and fuelling the flames with broken bits of wood. Leaning back on my arms I peered at him through the dark, trying to learn who it was.

Pale blonde braids warmed to a sweet gold colour in the flickering firelight and it was a few moments before he looked up and noticed that I was awake.

"Sorry," Legolas whispered, voice almost drowned by the crackle and pop of burning wood. "It was not my intention to wake you. It is a cold night and, since there is no danger about, I might as well relight the fire."

"It is okay…" My words trailed off into silence; this was the first time we had actually been alone together since Helm's Deep – well, technically alone, at least, I suppose this was the closest we could ever get. "Do you…need any help?" My mouth felt dry and my mind went blank. What was I to say? Or do? We couldn't just sit here in silence…

Legolas shook his head, turning his attention back to the flames. "No, I should be fine."

Sitting up further, I crossed my arms in my lap and leaned forward, my brow creased in concern. Was it just me, or was Legolas being a bit abrupt? "Are you sure?" I tried again, "There is nothing heroic about denying a little help."

He chuckled and a smile tugged at the corners of my lips. "There is also nothing much heroic about relighting a fire – you would freeze without it. You were already shivering earlier, this is the least I can do."

There was not much I could say to that, in fact I was actually a little taken back by the kindness of his gesture.

"You should have said something if you were cold," Legolas told me after I was quiet for a while, "I could have leant you my cloak."

Of course there was no way I could stay silent at this; it was a rare moment when I saw his compassionate side directed towards me, and so far the few times that the Elf had acted this way have never left my memory. "Thank you. Though I would have been fine without it, I can handle myself, you know."

"If you insist," Legolas said with a wink. "I suppose you would be against it if I offered it to you now then?"

"I– I did not say that, entirely…"

Another soft laugh. Legolas paused his work on the campfire to unlatch the beautiful leaf shaped brooch (if I was not mistaken, I recognised it as a symbol of Lorien) at his throat, slipping the grey-green material from his shoulders and placing it neatly over my own.

"Thank you." It was already warm, heated both by his body and also from how close he had been sitting to the fire. I pulled the hem over my feet, tucking them under the surprisingly thin cloth. "So… you really dyed your hair?"

An embarrassed smile broke across Legolas' face as he bowed his head away from me, remembering the incident. I shifted closer, grinning inanely, and with a small sigh he finally relented to relive the tale. "Mithrandir exaggerates how awful the event was! But, to cut a long story short, as a child I was never much of a fan of being taught the political sides of being a prince and there was one particular affair, which I did not want to go to… so, in a poor attempt to get out of going – and not to mention in a slight rebellion against my ada – I used forest berries to stain the tips of my hair. It was awful, but on the bright side, ada was so horrified at me that I did manage to escape the event."

So, it was true, Legolas was a prince. Not that I ever doubted his heritage, but it was still rather strange to think of him as actual royalty. "You actually did that?" It was hard to giggle, and even harder to keep the volume of my voice down. All I could see was a tiny, childlike version of Legolas, except in place of his usual blonde locks he had his hair was a brilliant, flaming cherry colour - despite Legolas' fervent insistence that it was only the tips he coloured, but that did not stop my imagination from getting the better of me.

"Bearing in mind I was but a child!" came the expected argument in his defence, but a cheerful smile gave away that – not Eru knows how many years later from the incident – Legolas now found it as funny as I did. "Besides, it only lasted about a week. Ada made me try and wash out the colour about three times a day to rid my hair of it, and it was not even that bright in the first place! He was not what you call pleased."

"Maybe you should have just used more berries to make it more permanent? I reckon the colour might suit you," I suggested to him, and watched as the silken tresses tumbled off his shoulders and down his back as the Elf tipped his head back to laugh.

I missed these times when it was just us two: even just trying to remember the last time when I had actually been alone with him took far more effort than it should have, and it reminded me just how much I wanted to be with him. So much had happened after Helm's Deep that the feelings had been dimmed slightly – but now they were back, and brighter than ever before.

It was as these thoughts crossed my mind that I realised that, when wrapping his cloak around me, the Elf's slender, pale fingers had lingered on my arm, the gentle pressure pleasant and tickling. With a small smile and a nervously fluttering heart, I reached out to touch one of the delicate plaits – the small doubt ever lived in me that one day I might try to take his hand and he would turn away from me in disgust.

Thankfully, however, Legolas did nothing of the sort. I rolled the small braid between my fingers, contemplating his story. "You know, I am sure you might suit something other than blonde. Perhaps one day I might have to ambush you with blueberries, to see how purple looks?

Grinning, Legolas bent his head down and my stomach leaped as I began to feel his hot breath on my cheek. "I am sure my father would be thrilled if you did that. Now, what colour for you, young lady…" Legolas picked playfully at some strands of my hair. "I am thinking… green, perhaps? You would blend in more that way, less trouble!"

"Nonsense! I have always thought myself to suit more of a pink shade."

Bodies stirred behind us, interrupting our flirtatious banter, but we ignored the small movement. I braced myself for the electricity that would spark to life as soon as the space between our mouths was closed, but it never occurred. Instead, Legolas traced a line down my cheek with the tip of his finger and pressed his lips to my temple. "The others will be up soon," he mumbled to me when I looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. Despite it still being fairly dark, I knew that Théoden wished to arrive in Edoras fairly early, so preparations for an evening's celebration feast could be made.

Shaking off the hem of Legolas' cloak, I stretched my feet out and rested them near the small fire that was now going. If I wanted to retire again I expect Legolas would most likely stay by the fire and keep an eye on the rest of us (particularly the Hobbits), what with it being his turn to keep watch.

Legolas picked a few pieces of grass from the top of my head, a slight smirk edging its way into his expression. With his presence close to me and the warmth presented by the palm of his hand and his cloak, I withdrew from him slightly and lay down my head once again.