Chapter six: The mingled web of our lives
"When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions." Hamlet [78], Shakespeare.
Never, never, never believe any war will be smooth and easy, or that anyone who embarks on the strange voyage can measure the tides and hurricanes he will encounter. The statesman who yields to war fever must realize that once the signal is given, he is no longer the master of policy but the slave of unforeseeable and uncontrollable events.
Sir Winston Churchill (1874 - 1965)
Antar,Antares. April 12th of 2952.
"What on Viskaya's name are you up to, Solene?" Selton asked irately, pacing the length of the Council Room. All antarian ambassadors had returned from the far off lands, Solene and her committee from Rivendell and Aillin with hers from Gondor and feuds. Solene had just explained her plan to the king of Antar and the sovereign had not reacted favourably.
Solene gave frightened Stella a sign to get out of the room, but the younger girl would not leave the discussion when the committee so obivously needed all the support they could gather. Even Selton's youngest daughter Aillin seemed to be unsettled by his rare display of temper- Selton was an ordinarily calm and well mannered elf, but it was wise to get as much distance as possible when he was upset.
As for the Program itself, both Elrond and Thranduil had liked it. She was sure their offering- before need forced the realms to call for aid or fall stubbornly alone- had earned both respect and trust. If the cards were dealt well, Solene would be able to risk a further three items off her 'to do' list.
"Father," she began, but Selton's angry glare corrected her immediately. She was facing the King, not the citizen. "My lord, war is already upon us. I was quite frank with Hayden and the Ruling Board when I told them about the threat to the safety of this nation."
"You did not specify the nature of the threat, nor were you given leave to compromise the Seven Provinces in such a way," Selton countered icily.
"You had to see it for yourselves. The depth and width of the danger were beyond our reckoning."
Solene, Stella and Pyrrhus proceeded to remind Selton - and the silent group of councillors behind him, who had the tact to remain apart from the discussion till the sovereign calmed down - the last events of the recent History of Middle-earth. How Sauron was gathering his strength back and organising his minions. And about the goblins' stronghold in the Misty Mountains - it was never quite destroyed. About Dol Guldur and the tower of Barad-dur in Mordor. That they were sure that war was coming, and that Sauron would turn his eye on them once the more traditional enemies were subdued. Their opinions of the realms that opposed the dark lord.
"None of us have the strength to withhold Sauron alone, " Solene concluded.
It would be a harsh war. One that would, inevitably, reach Antar. Selton was, understandably, having a very bad day. The beginning of a headache did not improve anything.
"And we're making everything in our power to be noticed so we can go after us as well!" he exploded, and all his daughters, by blood and adoption, recoiled. It was Pyrrhus who stood his ground, always the faithful one.
"My lord," the dark elf said quietly, his midnight black eyes warm, a calm force around him because he was sure of the situation, "it was inevitable. The Easterlings, as we all know now, serve Sauron as a god. They were already aware of our existence. And Sauron wants to conquer all the lands."
"So we ride and meet them?" Selton asked, still furious but starting to seek a rational way out of the predicament.
"We prepare ourselves," said Stella, speaking for the first time that evening. "There's no stopping it, all we can do is face it on our feet. He has no Ring of Power this time, yet his strength is still considerable. With the expertise of his older enemies, we might succeed in saving our lands."
"Shut up," Selton whispered, pained.
Stella opened her mouth in an 'o' of surprise, and Aillin quickly came to her rescue, dragging the young one in a tight embrace. Silence reigned for a few moments, no one saying anything while the king pondered.
"In a few years, we'll hold elections for Chief of State. How could you compromise yourself so when I cannot answer for the next sovereign?"
"You can because it's the only thing to do. We have no experience in a war of such massive proportions. And they have only a few people- it's not that hard to put two and two together!"Solene stated bitterly, wrapping her arms around herself.
"Be quiet!" Selton cried again. "Do you not think I know it? I would that I could stop this ruin from befalling us. 'Tis the first time we are open to the other people, a war is looming and they know all about our realm!"
"Not all," Pyrr stated quietly. The councillor weighed every person in the room before continuing, and for that Solene was reminded of why she had chosen him as one of her apprentices when she was building the school of magic and wizardry. Pyrr was a fun-loving, charming, merry companion one could always count upon. Yet he was also very centred when it came to his work, and even more when it came to the fate of those whom he loved.
Needless to say, he was a Hufflepuff.
"Hayden established one fundamental condition to the opening of diplomatic ties, and that was that the secrecy would be respected as much as possible. The representatives would retain their positions as ambassadors to prevent too much speculation. The released information would be minimal."
"They know we are an isolated group. They know we are a peaceful people. It was decided we should not reveal about the Seven Provinces. For security reasons, we only revealed the existence of Antares."
"Prudent," Selton conceded, re-examining his opinion of the previous king of Antar, Hayden. The youngster proved to be up to the test.
"Antares was built to be a haven and stronghold. She can resist a siege if worst comes to worse. "
"You have attended too many war councils, my friend." Selton gave a tired smile. "I cannot resist when you are all grouped against me. By the stars, I wanted never to face such situation. But if we must, then we must."
"There is no other way, my lord. The final terms of the deal are up to you, of course. We merely sketched an idea."
Selton broke the seal of the letter Pyrrhus had given him, and skimmed through its contents. "This will require some study, but it seems to be as good as it may. Let me consider the terms for a while, and them I'll give you an answer."
The crowd dispersed, retreating to leave Selton alone with his councillors.
Lothlórien, Caras Galadhon. May 17th of 2953.
Little time was spent in trifle conversation, because the feeling of urgency was present in the heart of all members of the council. So it was, that shortly after the last caravan entered the city of the galadhrin, the White Council was held once again.
"Friends," Celeborn started the debate, successfully hiding his distress for not seeing his kith in this meeting. Being a practical, down-to-earth sindar elf himself, Celeborn could understand that Thranduil had his hands full once again, for Sauron had sent three of his Ulairi to reclaim Dol Guldur and Mirkwood had resumed their state of alertness.
Even though the lord of Lothlórien knew that deeper waters ran on that particular river.
"We are here to discuss our position about Dol Guldur, which was recently re-occupied by Sauron's minions, the Nazgul. And also concerning the Rings of power."
"I have dedicated myself to the study of that difficult issue," Saruman said, rising. His luminescent white attire billowed as if the wind was dancing around him. Whereas Gandalf and Radagast had always preferred the inconspicuousness of ordinary appearance, Saruman was wont to appear always in his best. "We all know what happened to the Nine. Gandalf already reported that the last of the Seven has fallen into the hands of Sauron once again. The Three have managed to stay out of his reach, and thus shall continue lest he come in possession of the One again. Others rings exist, less powerful, scattered across the lands and unaccounted for. But they are not of importance in the great scheme of things."
Saruman surveyed his audience. Alatar had come, from Eru knew where, and also Radagast and Gandalf, as was his wont. The Grey Pilgrim was also meddling in the affairs of pretty much everyone, Saruman mused silently. The elder among the elves as well, Elrond with his trusted councillor Erestor, and Cirdan from Lindon, and the lord and lady of Lothlórien. Others would later know what they deigned safe to release, but those were the ones who held power in their hands, to alter the course of history in Middle-earth.
Those were the ones he had to be wary of.
"I have come to the conclusion that the One will never be again found. It has likely been led to the deep heart of the ocean, by the flow of the Great River."
"It is never safe to assume, not where Sauron and his crafts are concerned," Cirdan warned seriously. Saruman controlled himself, before any could see his anger building.
"It was very difficult to discover the site of Isildur's falling," Saruman argumented placidly, taking the posture of a lecturing tutor talking with his protégé. "He drowned on the Anduin. But in spite of the enormous lure that the One has over all dark creatures, and the abundance of such foul beings around, no one has ever found it. Had one found it, we would be surely suffering the effects now. Sauron himself lived there for many long years, but he could not attract the ring back to himself. One might think that's enough evidence, my dear friend, that the ring is simply not there anymore."
"Indeed," Elrond agreed, " we have not heard of it for a long time. Sauron seems to have resigned himself to wager war without his weapon."
"That, at least, is a comfort," Celeborn commented. "Without the Ring, our chances are much increased, for he has not all his power."
"That he hasn't," Erestor stated. "Yet, we should not forget caution, not so far down in the road."
Saruman felt his ire raising, but merely sat down on his ornate chair. He had hopes of inducing the elves to reveal the ringbearers. Wouldn't it be wondrous, he said to himself, if their identities were known? Saruman was cunning, he knew it was likely that one or more Ringbearer was sitting alongside himself right then. But also, in the manner of elves, it was not unlikely that the Rings were given to unsuspecting people, those who would be overlooked. The elves had battled with evil too oft, and learned caution and malice.
"Aye. The enemy's very rising is so bright a sign for caution as the evening star," Elrond whispered, his deep voice filled with grief.
No. Saruman would not have intelligence on the Three. Only the Ringbearers knew themselves.
Soon, Saruman thought. Soon I'll find the ring, and all lands will be under my domain.
"We will need to face this threat, and soon," Elrond said, earning several approving nods. "We must not let the Nazgul work at will."
"What of Sauron?" Gandalf asked. "We cannot forget he is rebuilding his fortress of Barad-dur as we speak, his work is nearly complete."
Saruman nearly snorted. Gandalf always looked the general picture rather than examining the small details. The dark lord was slowly closing his trap, leaving his Black riders behind to occupy the elves while he gathered the strength to attack full force.
"Sauron will be dealt with when we can afford it," Celeborn stated. "The time of the elves is fading,"
Elrond mourned, " our people are leaving these shores. Yet we shall face him ere we leave, for I fear the others shall not be able to."
"We lack the strength to attack him on his own lands, as of yet," Erestor supplied. "So few, so few of us linger."
"This will not be a matter of strength of arms," Galadriel said. "But of stout hearts, and faith. Do not worry overmuch with things that you cannot change. For I think on this matter Fate will find a way to surprise us all."
"We'll be at ready then, as we have always been," Cirdan said and sighed. "What must be shall be."
Gondor, Minas Tirith. Midsummer day 2976.
Aragorn dressed in his finest attire as a Captain of the Guard of Gondor and took his place amongst the other members of the Guard. For eight years he had served Ecthelion II, and before that, Thengel of Rohan for twelve years. All his mind and will was set on the fight against the enemy, and little else caught his attention.
He had said naught of his family and lineage, and was known simply as Thorongil. Some said he was an illegitimate child of Ecthelion's, so great was the Steward's love for the Captain. A love that was echoed by the people of Gondor and Rohan, but not by the steward's son, Denethor. Aragorn had always worked hard, climbing from the humble position of soldier to trusted captain.
Isildur's heir had never desired any of the ladies of the court as his bride- all his heart was filled with the Evenstar's image, and no other could replace her. Even if there was one who could, lord Elrond had warned him against taking a wife when his road was so perilous and long. Yet, when he saw Finduilas walk down the corridor to meet Denethor at the feet of the Steward's chair, he felt a pang of bittersweet longing. Dol Amroth's lady shone bright that evening, the dark beauty of the House of the Swam overpowering all courtesans. Although that was a marriage of convenience, it was clear Denethor cared for the lady. And Adrahil had never forced a match upon his beloved daughter, for she was being wed at the mature age of twenty-six.
The lords celebrated the espousement, and the court proceeded to pay the newlyweds their respects. Every fief had sent representatives, and most of their allies. Lossarnach, Lebethron, the exiled lords of Ithilien who had to flee to prevent the death of their people, Rohan and some of the beornings. Even some rangers from Eriador had come, as they served all realms in the fight against the Nameless fear -but those tactfully pretended to be mere passing acquaintances of the Captain Thorongil. Unsurprisingly, he saw also some of the fair folk from Antar.
Aragorn was aware that Antar was slowly manoeuvring to forge an alliance with all the enemies of the dark Lord- an attitude that he approved. There was already a treaty of mutual assistance amongst the elven realms, and only a fool would fail to notice the mortals were being weighed as possible allies in the near future. With the newborn coalition in the north, he was free to focus his attention in the south. More and more the rangers travelled southwards to help Gondor and Rohan, except those who were assigned to protect the Shire. Aragorn was not quite sure why yet, but Gandalf had asked him fervently - and when a wizard asked you something, it generally becaus of a good cause. So he waged war against the dunlendings when they tried to take over Rohan. Then he pledged himself to Ecthelion and in his name had driven the haradrin back to Far Harad. As of present there was an issue with the corsairs of Umbar that, Aragorn was certain, would need taking care of soon. They had been causing severe damage to the fleets of Dol Amroth and by extension, wounding the economy of all Gondor.
No, he was not at all surprised to see Dalton in Minas Tirith.
And he was even less surprised when Denethor icily announced to him that Ecthelion wanted to speak about attacking the corsairs.
Mirkwood, Taur-e-Ndaedelos. May 16th of 2998.
He was furious.
The years had done nothing to abate his rage, and the flawless reasoning of his father could not calm him.
When Legolas saw the antarians riding into Mirkwood, his first impulsive was to step forth and tell the ladies to go home. Such disregard for the safety of the Fairer Sex was outrageous. Sure, Mirkwood had the occasional female ranger, but their duty was to patrol the borders, not to battle against Sauron. For a wild moment he was left wondering if that was a political manoeuvre of the twins, or their foster family, and damned them all to the void if so. It would simply not be accepted.
Thranduil had restrained him before he had a chance to irreparably damage the diplomatic ties between the realms. Madrin, Hayden's father and spokesman for that group, had the nerve to say that ladies had the same rights and duties as their counterparts.
Legolas wanted to slap the elf. Hard.
It took some time getting used to that cultural difference. Not a long time after, he received letters from Rivendell saying Solene was participating of the exchange program with her twin. One of the letters was even hers.
He took a long time to answer them.
For forty-three years he kept himself under control, doing his ordinary tasks, assisting his father in the labour of keep a realm running smoothly and preparing the wood elves to war. He went out in patrolling parties, supported the antarians training once in a while. They received the news of the completion of Barad-dur rebuilt, and that the last habitants of Ithilien had fled from the Shadow. Now the training was complete and War Councils would be held to decide the course of action the elves should take.
And Legolas was free to do as his heart desired- it very much desired to shake some sense into a certain redhead acquaintance of his.
The prince was trying to explain to his father why he wanted to go to Rivendell. And if the sneaky fool was no longer there, he would go to Antar. She had to be convinced to let go of that folly.
"I know what it is that you desire, son, but I must ask you to think some more," Thranduil said very calmly, sitting on the desk of his office, as they were alone in the room. It was one of those treasured moments when the king was gone and the father took place. "You have no claim on the lady to demand such a thing. She might take offence on your action, and even friendship will be damaged."
Legolas could not deny his father's logic. After some decades of closeness, the odd ways of the antarians were almost familiar to him. He could not give up his plan either.
"I know I have no claim on her, but neither can I just step aside and let her proceed with this folly. It's too risky."
Could he lose her, when at last he had found her?
"They have a different view on many things, Legolas. Have a care, lest you scare her away."
Legolas turned an anguished azure gaze to his ada. "I shall be careful then. But I must try and dissuade her."
"There is but one way then," Thranduil stated coolly, standing up to meet his troubled son. "Make so that she has your convenience in mind."
"I do not solely seek my convenience. It is her safety that concerns me most."
"That argument will not win the lady," Thranduil stated. "However, you misunderstand me- I meant that you should place lead her into a position she'd be forced to oblige."
"But how?"
"Bind her to you," Thranduil said offhandedly, "that should do the trick."
If Solene was bound to him, she'd be forced to stay in the fortress of Taur-e-Ndaedelos, protected by his family's magic and all the army of Mirkwood.
She'd be honour bound to.
The thought both thrilled and terrified him. A wife. A war. Not the most advisable of mixtures, yet most the warriors had a wife at some point of their lives. And Legolas would be much reassured if she was safe.
The prince knew the lady had feelings for him- 'twas clear in the way her eyes followed him when he entered a room, shielding whenever she thought he had caught her staring.
Rivendell, July 15th of 2998.
His second visit to Imladris was not alike the former. This time, Legolas had with him a proper escort. He was an elf in a mission.
As soon as the city came within sight, the prince of Mirkwood could see the new buildings. Being a small refuge for those who survived the fall of Eregion, Rivendell could hardly fit so many new inhabitants in a short time span. With the basics of their warrior training complete, one third of the novices had returned home to help defending their lands. The rest of it had stayed behind to aid in the war effort.
"Mae Govannen, mellon-nin," said Elrohir, emerging from the main house with a mortal man.
Legolas took a moment to relate the grown man with the youngling he had once met. Estel was now in the plenitude of his strength and stature, being nearly as tall as some of the smaller elves. His complexion was well built, however, and the faint lines of worry spoke of a life of hardship and concern. His eyes were kind yet sharp, and his smile more reserved.
All in all, an amazing transformation.
"It's been a long time," said Estel, clasping Legolas' arms in a warrior's embrace.
"Indeed, it has," Legolas replied, taking in the sight before him. "I think you will not let me throw you in the mud nowadays."
Estel laughed. "I could give you a better fight, yet I believe you'd manage it eventually."
His escorts were released from duty, and Legolas was able to talk with his friends more at ease. They had plenty of astonishing news for him. Estel was actually Aragorn II, son of Arathorn. Isildur's heir and heir to the throne of Gondor, whom the dark lord long presumed dead.
And he had spent the last decades serving Rohan and Gondor, defeating the haradrin and the corsairs of Umbar, wicked minions of Sauron from the southern lands.
And he had used a different name to every different country, it seemed.
"And the rangers are doing a fine job," Elrohir said with unhidden pride. "They force us to travel a long way to hunt orcs."
"They have been quiet of late," Legolas agreed. "Probably waiting for their numbers to raise again. It will not be long till the confrontation, all lands are preparing for the strike."
"No, it will not," Aragorn agreed. "Gondor is already under attack. Our people are cornered, and many fled to Minas Tirith and the far West. We have already defeated Umbar, and Harad, but the latter is now rising again and we'll soon need to deal with them. And the easterlings have already stroked."
Legolas' heart threatened to stop, but his voice remained cool and firm when he asked. "Whom have they attacked?
Of course, he already knew. However, Legolas needed to hear it aloud.
"I am sorry to tell you this, mellon-nin. But the easterlings attacked Antar about a month ago. They appear to have noticed the constant flow of elves passing through the mountain path lately. My cousin Halbarad is in charge of the northern roads, and he sent me a message a week ago."
It had already happened.
And his lover would probably be in the middle of the chaos, if he knew her at all.
Legolas made an effort not o look too worried. "Please keep me informed," he said simply, and stormed out to seek lord Elrond. He was determined to be done with the council as soon as possible. He needed to think on a way to take Solene out of that mess.
Antar, Antares. February 6th of 3000.
Solene stood nervously at the Chief of State's office, as she waited for the visitors to walk in. Verlat had agreed to keep it simple, apart from the whole feast thing – those huge celebrations in someone`s honour seemed to be tradition for Middle-earth -, she had only the closest friends and family for company. The whole official meetings would have to wait.
For a period of eighteen months, Antar had found herself at war once again, only that time, it was a real war, with experient enemies, on an unknown landscape. While pushing the easterlings off the borders was easy, submitting them was all but - the dunlendings hid in holes and caves in the desert and made a war of ambushes and guerrilla that greatly harmed the antarians.
Strategically speaking, it had been perfect. The easterlings were provoked to attack before they had conditions to do so, and with that strife one more of Sauron's many arms was cut off. It was inevitable that the dark lord should learn of their existence, but yet they had not revealed all of their secrets. Antarians were given convenient practice. And Solene tried not to blame herself for the casualties.
It would happen anyway.
Hardly six months after the conflict started, she had begun a battle of her own. With Legolas, of all people. It was a wonder, really, that there were messengers willing to cross the dunlands. He wished her out of it, she wanted to stay. He wished to come, she wanted him out.
On the bright side, it really does prove we are made for each other, she thought bitterly.
She had asked to chaperone him around, given they were so close friends already. Selton had not quite bought her excuse, but he would not call her on it either. All the old elf had said, god bless his soul, was, 'be careful, my dove. He's a powerful elf, and a very dangerous one to toy with'.
Verlat, on the other hand, was willing to wait and see what it would end up at. The old fox. Apparently, the whole 'permanent advocate on the elven court' thing was not entirely forgotten.
The courier opened the huge oak doors and Legolas stepped forth with his companions, ten elves at total, most of them sylvan, with dark hair and grey eyes. The prince was clad in silver, unusual for him, who preferred shades of green and greyish brown. An elegant, smart silver tunic and white trousers, his silvery travel cloak already handed to a fellow wood-elf. His fair hair was half up in a stylish braid, and his azure eyes shone bright with something unreadable.
Probably excitement. He loved to explore new places.
"A star shines upon the hour of our meeting," he said, with the precise amount of courtesy and sincerity.
"You bring light to our home," Verlat replied in the custom of the land, and proceeded to introduce the members of his house. They engaged in brief conversation about the latest news of Middle-earth, the preparations for the war and impressions on common associates. Dalton stepped in at a specific time to greet the company with more familiarity, being acquainted with them all. In all that time they behaved as if they were merely good friends, and even avoided looking at each other too oft.
And that, the elders noticed.
"Forgive me," Verlat excused himself after one and a half hours, "but I'm afraid I have a pressing appointment I cannot miss. We shall meet again at dinner, if you do not have any objection?"
"It would be my pleasure, sire."
"Verlat, don't be mean," Solene scolded gently. "He's too kind to point out, but it's one very long way from Mirkwood. Let the lad rest a while before you trap him in your mind games."
Legolas glanced nervously at her, his eyes going wide for a fraction of second, before he heard the laughter in the room.
"I'm afraid she's right, father," Dalton agreed. "I slept for nearly a day when I came home myself."
"A day and a half," Stella corrected. "And I had to convince Callista to hold the reports till you could see it."
"I slept for a day," Dalton said maliciously, "then I left you to deal with the hard work alone."
"Typical," Stella snorted, spoiling the effect with a carefree wink.
"They'll go on all day long," Solene said to the Woodland committee, rolling her eyes. "Come, I'll take you to your chambers. I'm afraid all the important people are needed at the Senate in a few minutes."
She led them into the Palace, talking at length and trying to make them feel at home. This was a republic, for Pity's sake, not a monarchy, and there would not be much solemnity in those halls. The one thing she did remember was to assign them close quarters, as to provide the prince the escort he needed.
"Try not to mind Dalton too much," she said at last, showing the bedchamber to the last bodyguard, some Garand. "He's a good person, who likes to play a tad too much."
"I remember," Garand replied with a smile.
"Good. I'll let the servants know they are to bring you food when you have awoken. The roads are a nightmare."
She turned them to open the last door of the corridor, Legolas' quarters. If one wished to talk to him, he'd need to get past the whole group, that was, Solene thought, the best arrangement possible.
"These will be your quarters. I hope they are of your liking."
Legolas surveyed the rooms quickly. Blue and silver all around, with a neat, minute living room and a suite.
"It is lovely."
She pondered if telling him she'd also be a guest for the time he was there was polite, or could be misinterpreted, but decided on the contrary.
"I'll let you rest, then."
"I'd rather have a word with you," he whispered, dropping a small bag on the nearest table.
"If that word is anything like the latest we have exchanged, we really should leave them to some other occasion."
"Are you still angry with me?" he asked, with a suggestion of mirth in his voice, and that undid her.
"I am appalled," she hissed. "How dare you blackmail me?"
Legolas did not even blink. In fact, he calmly clasped his hands. "I tried to protect you."
"I gave the idea of the Program, Legolas. It is not nice if I hide at home when others risk their lives in it." She exclaimed, annoyed now.
Legolas could not care less how it looked. Ladies should be courageous, but by heaven's sake just leave the bloodshed for men. How they could be so stubborn- so obtuse- as to willingly overlook the consequences it could bring to the female gender was beyond him.
"You are a politician, Solene, not a warrior. Carnage is not for you. Come, now, don't be vexed with me. I care for you."
She faltered, colour mounting on her face. "And I for you, but that does not give me the right to ask you to stay home when your land is under attack."
"I am honour-bound to protect my people," Legolas pointed grimly, crossing the distance in few strides and silently damning everything to hell. "Solene," he framed her face with his hands, partly transfixed in the way those eyes widened, her lips opened slightly, her heartbeat rushed under his touch. So close, so close… "do you not see that I love you, and it terrifies me to think of you lying dead in a battle? I want to protect you!"
"You could have given me flowers," she stuttered simply swaying a little. "Oh my, I can't breathe."
"What?"
"I better sit down," the woman stated, utterly uncaring of Legolas' confusion. She sank ungracefully into the couch. "You sure know how to make an impression."
"I was under the impression you returned my feelings," he said tentatively, watching the lady try to regain her poise.
"I do," she said dazedly. "But whenever I think I know what you will do, you surprise me doing something totally unexpected."
It was his turn to sat down on the couch. Legolas let out a deep breath and grasped her hands into his. "I did not mean for this to happen."
"Pardon me?"
"I meant to woo you properly," he said apologetically, flashing one devilishly shy smile. "Instead I confessed my feelings in a shouting match."
"Oh, I don't know. You rendered me speechless before I could start shouting- and I really wanted to shout."
"I wanted it to be perfect. Memorable."
He intertwined their fingers, noticing the way peace seemed to engulf him wholly.
"It was," she giggled. "And this is a story I can tell our children."
Our children. Legolas wanted to… well, of course he'd not do something so reckless, much less considering in which house he was at in the moment; but he wanted to do something folly. One of those things you laugh about when you grow older and wiser.
Only he couldn't.
He opted for kissing her brow instead. "My love. Bind yourself to me."
"I am yours, Legolas. It feels like I have always been."
