AUTHOR'S NOTE

This chapter has been edited to remove a small amount of NC-17 content. The story is also presented in full version at the web address listed in my profile.

07 – LEGOLAS

Flynn whirled around clumsily in time to see the shining flaxen head of an Elf appear as he levered himself effortlessly on to the landing platform. He rose to full height above her in a lithe movement and she shrank away, afraid of how hard her falling boot must have hit him. But looking upon his face she saw it was the Elf she had been staring at over dinner. He gently pulled at something tucked into the back of his belt and brought his hand around, and in it, her shoe. Dumbstruck, she looked at it – with slight suspicion upon her face – then at the Elf, and then let out a breath of relief. Before she could say or do anything, he crouched catlike before her and held out her boot. "I believe this is yours," he said softly.

Flynn nodded as she accepted it. "Thank you," she said. "I am sorry, I was not watching what I was doing... I hope it did not hit you too hard."

"It was hard enough," he replied with a smile. "But I will live. I apologise if I startled you." Flynn did not reply, looking him up and down in an unsubtle manner. Two long, white-handled daggers, hilted in a single scabbard were attached to his belt. He wore an olive green suede tunic and grey breeches, but no shoes, and his feet were long and unworn. To her silence, he added, "My name is Legolas –

I hail from Mirkwood."

Flynn's eyes widened and her mouth dropped a little, unable to speak for the second time that day. Legolas! The Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, son of King Thranduil; Legolas, another one of the many characters she had so adored! Flabbergasted beyond belief, she took a breath to reply, but only ended up stammering dumbly, which then turned into spluttered cough as a sharp reflux of wine bit at the back of her throat. Legolas patted at her back, frowning, and she tried to regain her breath.

At length Flynn collected herself, mortified at how thorough a fool she was. She cleared her throat for good measure, praying for composure. She said, "I was about to say how very wonderful it is to meet you, Legolas of Mirkwood." She tried to add a smile to her embarrassment.

"Thank you," he smiled again. "It is my pleasure to meet you, Flynn. I am sure we would have met this eve, had Gildaer not forgotten himself and stolen you away." Legolas laughed to himself, and his smile, for the briefest moment, lit his whole face, his straight white teeth and finely creased eyes belying the sincerity of his manner. Flynn wondered if she had ever heard Ellos laugh so light-heartedly, and conceded not. Legolas peered around at the tree about him once more before he spoke again. "I must away. I was on my way to the stream when I was... attacked," he said mirthfully, looking pointedly at Flynn's shoe as she kneaded it subconsciously with her fingers. The Elf cocked his head to the side and regarded her with frankness. He scolded himself then, saying, "It is rude of me not to ask you to come along! I intend to fish in the stream, for it clears the mind so well. I know men make use of lines and baits, but perhaps you have never seen the elven way?"

Flynn frowned curiously, "Which way is that?"

Legolas smiled, "One must join me to find out." He hopped nimbly off the talan and on to the ladder, then paused there for a moment with expectation on his face.

Flynn shrugged. At the very least she could use a splash of water on her face, her swim in the stream of two days ago now well beyond effective. And this Elf certainly was intriguing. She pulled her boots back on and followed him, conceding there was probably nothing like a little drunken fishing to welcome you to Middle-earth.

Legolas lead her silently through the forest at a slow pace, checking her unsteady footing. They came at last to the edge of a stream and he stopped and waited for Flynn to catch up, his relaxed but upright posture illustrating his calm in the dark of the night. Flynn arrived at the water's edge, regarding its surface, rippled like a puckered swatch of black silk. As far as she could see or hear, there was no one around, but in a way the Elf could not understand, she knew she could trust him – because she already knew him. There was a half moon shining in the cloudless sky and its light pierced through the water and betrayed its contents. Dozens of glistening fish swarmed, ducking in and out of vision like winking stars. "Fish!" she exclaimed, pointing at the water.

Legolas hushed her softly. "They scare easily. We must be quiet."

Flynn lowered her voice to a whisper, looking sheepish. "Sorry." Legolas bent down, rolling up his breeches so they bunched at his knees. His legs were shapely and taut and she tried not to stare. "What are you doing?" she whispered.

"I am catching fish," Legolas replied softly.

Before she could ask how he planned to go about it, he had waded noiselessly into the stream and stood half-crouched, poised with his hands above the water, watchful like a cat. Legolas stood this way for some minutes and Flynn dared not speak. She sat down as gently and quietly as she could and watched with fascination. Was he really going to catch a fish with his bare hands? She did not know it could be done, except perhaps by grizzly bears.

There was a flash of movement as Legolas's hands darted into the water; he struggled for a moment, and he came up triumphant, a shining fish clamped tight between his fingers, wriggling fiercely. Flynn clapped and laughed and stood up as he splashed through the water, hurrying nimbly back to the bank. He unsheathed a knife and cut its gills. Flynn winced and stopped clapping as the fish spurted blood over the bank and bled to death quickly.

Legolas straightened up and addressed Flynn squarely. "That," he said, "is how to catch a fish – our way."

Flynn swallowed. "Well... I do not know if I like it. Is there always so much blood?"

Legolas gave her a quizzical look. "I doubt that there is any other way to do it. Would you like to try?" he asked.

Flynn wasn't sure that she did want to, if it involved killing the fish at the end, and she said as much.

"And if you just catch the fish, and I attend to the rest?" he offered.

"I suppose we could do that," she conceded, and removed her boots for the second time that night, then followed Legolas's example and rolled her pants up to her knees. Legolas waited for her at the edge, the water lapping his toes. He took her hand to steady her as she waded into the water, and then he began to explain to her the art of waiting poised and motionless. Flynn was still affected by the wine and she swayed a little, but the cool water made her more alert and she listened intently to his instructions. Legolas caught another fish shortly but Flynn struggled to mimic him, and her efforts were comical. She laughed as the fish scattered and slipped through her fingers.

She made attempt after attempt at catching the slippery creatures but never came up successful, while Legolas created a messy pile of trophies at the bank, returning to the water to laugh at Flynn's attempts and offer more guidance. Partly through frustration, and partly through drunken silliness, she gave up the fish-whispering efforts finally and went forthrightly stomping after their quarry as if pounding on the fish would work. Legolas laughed at her, but suddenly she misplaced her footing, and she fell, rear first, into the water.

There was a moment of initial shock of hitting the shallow riverbed. But her stupidity was comical and she snorted self-deprecatingly, in a moment dissolving into laughter. Legolas, chuckling when he was sure she was not hurt, approached to help her up. She took his outstretched hands and dug her feet into the rocky riverbed to hoist herself up, but her footing slipped again and she toppled, this time bringing Legolas along. The pair fell into the water together. They emerged, spluttering, soaked through their clothes and flapping in the shallows. Flynn laughed so hard her stomach hurt and Legolas laughed along, though he seemed shied at the sudden loss of his composure and dignity.

The Elf rose again and extended his hand to Flynn. She stood, doubling with laughter, and it took some long, wheezing breaths before she could shake herself and stand up straight. Legolas folded his hands over his chest and stroked his chin with one hand. There was a twinkle in his eye that warned Flynn of things to come, and she moved to flee but he was quicker than any Elf, and dragged her into the shallows with him before she knew he had her. His laughter rang out musically as he stretched out under her, and she struggled away as he let go, fighting to sit up against the current and her own wracking laughter.

Eventually the Elf saw fit to stand again, but not before grabbing Flynn around the waist and throwing her over his shoulder, the better to get her safely back to dry ground. This only made her laugh harder and by the time he set her back down on the grass she was gasping for breath. Legolas smiled, and he stood by her, waiting for her to settle. He reached back and unfastened the braid that bound his hair, forking his fingers through his soaking locks.

Flynn calmed and sighed. "You look like a rat which has gone swimming," she said in an effort to appropriate an English saying. She rose to her feet with a groan

He stopped wringing his hair, which was not darkened by the water as it should have been, and looked at her. "You describe yourself, it seems," he jested.

Flynn cocked an eyebrow at him playfully and set about wringing her own wet clothes and hair, her lazy curls heavy and stretched out by weight of the water. She bent double and tossed her hair over, squeezing it from underneath, then stood up quickly, flinging the whole mass into the air and over her back. Legolas watched in interest until she was upright again, at which point he quickly looked away, and then his body folded fluidly and he sat on the bank, his arms around his knees, staring pensively out beyond the stream into the forest beyond. Flynn watched him, frowning. There was something compelling in the tight set of his jaw, the almost imperceptible sigh, the strange gravity falling over him. Slowly she sat down near him, feeling as if she could not leave. "Do you always catch fish in the dark?" she asked, and then chided herself inwardly for such a stupid question.

The Elf smiled slowly. "No, but it is better in the evening. I do not do it often, but it does clear the mind of darkness, I find," he answered softly.

"Yes, you said that," Flynn said, growing curious. She thought for a moment, and ventured, "It seems that something weighs on your mind."

Legolas sighed. "Of course," he replied. "It is terrible enough that one must live to see his king die, but to bear the news – that has been akin to repeating the pain, over and over. I am sure you understand."

Flynn could not speak. Aragorn… The king was dead. Aragorn II Elessar, the greatest king that Gondor had ever had, and perhaps the greatest human friend that Legolas had ever known, had passed this very year. The only thing she could think to say was, "I am so very sorry for you, Legolas. I did not know."

Legolas looked at her with a curious eye then. "You did not know? But I have been heralding the news all over the land, much though my heart wills me to forget it. Surely you heard tidings?"

Flynn thought quickly, shaking her head slowly. "As Ellos said, I have been wandering the woods, lost – I know not for how long. I heard nothing from outside."

Legolas gazed at her a moment, though his eyes seemed somewhere far away, somewhere where, Flynn imagined, his grief had been gnawing at him and the world had begun to lose purpose. "Then I am sorry to bear the news to you," he finally said.

Flynn only nodded. She knew the grief of losing Aragorn; she had felt that selfsame sorrow when first she had read of his death in the appendices of The Lord of the Rings; that same shock mixed with the sting of inevitability. She, too, had wished the king had the ability to live forever like his immortal wife; had really thought that, with his Númenórean blood, he might. There were no words for a man as great as he. One of his many names, Estel – 'hope' – would forever describe him. She felt the sharpness of Legolas's recent grief like a chill wind. "We should sing a lament," she said.

Legolas smiled wanly. "You are good to want that," he murmured. "But I no longer have the heart. I feel it is fading from me, even now."

Stark worry crossed Flynn's brow. "Do not say that, Legolas!" she cried, knowing well that an Elf with a broken heart was as good as dead. "You have much life yet!" It was cliché, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

Legolas smiled bitter-sweetly. "Thank you for saying so," he said. "For the elves cannot see hope and light anymore. They see nothing but fading and ending." He sighed again. "How I wish these days were younger."

Flynn stared contemplatively at him, and thought to impart a pearl of wisdom from her own homeland. "You are only as old as you feel, Legolas," she told him, and he smiled widely, and laughed softly.

"Come, you should get dry," he said shortly, "I will show you back to your talan."

Flynn nodded and followed him back through the forest, her footsteps squelching on the leaf litter. Legolas stopped at Flynn's tree and held the ladder steady for her as she climbed, and waited until she was safely upon the talan. Before he disappeared into the darkness he bid, "I shall see you in the morning, Flynn," and was gone.

Peeling off her wet clothes and drying herself crudely with a towel she found in a pile of linens, she unrolled the grey blanket and laid it out under her. Flynn collapsed appreciatively on the pillows and it was not long before her eyelids drooped and she felt the heaviness of slumber creeping upon her, rolling in like fog. But just as she was about to cross that blurred line, something jolted her awake again. Her eyelids snapped open and her heart raced, and she wondered about the disturbance. A noise? Yes, a noise. But from where did the noise come, and what was it? Her head whipped about, searching. As she laboured to prop her tired body up, she saw a familiar head crowned with a messy mass of curls appear at the edge of the talan. Ellos. Pulling his agile body on to the platform. Looking rather influenced by the consumption of wine, and more than that, looking impossibly gorgeous.

"You scared me!" Flynn hissed.

Ellos did not seem at all sorry. In fact he did not seem quite anything, besides drunken and lusty. He had a hungry look in his eyes that Flynn did not find altogether unappealing. She was about to fully sit up and ask what it was that he wanted, when he spoke.

"Do not get up," he commanded in a hoarse whisper.

Flynn halted, wondering where this was going. But it took only a moment to figure out, after which she wondered whether or not she wanted to go there. She weighed it up. On one hand, she was disappointed in Ellos for leaving her, especially after they had shared such intimacy just a few days previous. But on the other hand, this could very well be their last night together, ever, and the wine in her blood was already arousing her ardour. But by the time Flynn had reasoned that this was too tempting an offer to pass up, Ellos was already upon her, and besieged her with a fierce kiss. She groaned into it and brought her hands to his waist, grasping at his clothing.

- - - - -

Ellos collapsed beside her, breathing slowing, his eyes closed, chest glistening as it rose and fell. She reached over him and pulled the blanket over their two forms. His dark eyes locked on to hers and he began, "Flynn – " then stopped.

She propped herself up on her elbow, her face on her hand, looking probingly down at him. "Yes?"

"Flynn, you must not tell any of the elves about this."

This was not something she wanted to hear after lovemaking, but she knew Elf custom. To make love was usually to 'bind' yourself to your lover according to the elves. Ellos had made no mention of this, so she had assumed he was not held so tightly to the tradition because he was only half-elven – if he was elven at all. But she already had no intention of telling the other elves, her private business being her private business after all. And if the other elves were as she recalled Tolkien describing them, they did not approve of Human and Elf dalliances in the least. She pursed her lips before replying, "I will not."

"Good," he said. "It is very important that you do not say anything. Do you understand that?"

Flynn frowned. "I understood it the first time you asked, Ellos." She held his gaze for a moment, but he either failed to notice her offended tone, or he did not much care. She rolled over, her back to him. She felt slighted that he did not think she would fully understand how to keep their affairs discreet. And though she had told herself it was not a problem, she really did not want him to leave. Not yet. Flynn, despite her wishes, was attached, and she did not want to let him go. She sighed and adjusted herself more comfortably on the bed pallet, doubting Ellos could fail to sense her unease. But if he could feel it, he made no move to comfort her.