Sorry about the long wait you guys, holidays and all. Hopefully I'll be able to update from my own computer soon!
Elwyn
He left me alone when we reached the gardens, insisting that he had some appointment with my father. I did not believe him, but neither did I follow him to confirm my suspicions.
He had kissed me. He had kissed me. And then he had pulled away. And during our ride and short walk, the few words he had even uttered to me had been such that they reminded me of how he had spoken to me when I was a child.
The fact that I had returned his kiss was not the issue.
The fact that I wanted him to kiss me again was not the issue.
* * * * *
I knocked hesitantly, still considering turning and fleeing in the opposite direction back to my quarters. I was about to. I had actually gathered my skirts in my hands when the door swung open.
Legolas stared at me quizzically, his hand braced against the door, blocking my entrance. "You're Highness," he said, almost curtly.
I glared at him. "Avá yellon ta," (Don't call me that.) I ordered, ducking under his arm and into the room before I was invited.
He sighed and turned around, shutting the door behind the both of us.
"Man ná ta?" (What is it?) he asked.
I whirled back around to face him, angry all of a sudden and willing to tell him so. Then I had the opportunity to study his appearance. His normal attire was gone, in favor of more a more comfortable tunic and pare of pants, most likely to sleep in. His hair was loose from the habitual braids and hung over his broad shoulders. And it was here I realized that I had come rather late.
I noticed he was studying me as well, but his expression seemed a bit more confused, and somewhat concerned. It occurred to me suddenly that I had been silent for some time now.
"Ni…" (I…) I began, then stopped and tried again. "Lle…" (You…)
"Have done something foolish," he supplied, sighing and running a hand through his hair and leaning back against the door frame. "I'm sorry."
"Ávan umin," (I'm not,) I admitted, sighing as well and lowering myself into a nearby chair. "And that is what frightens me."
"Elwyn," he began, crossing the room to kneel in front of me. "What happened was…" He paused as if trying to decide how to word it, "not meant to," he finished. "I do not know what came over me."
"You?" I countered. "At least a portion of the blame is mine. I am not a few millennia old, but neither am I a child unaware of my actions."
"Lá." (No.) He sat back on his heels. "Believe me; I am well aware that you are no longer a child."
I caught the unintentional suggestive tone behind that and shuddered slightly. Which he of course noticed, though thankfully, also misinterpreted. "Lle nar ringa," (You're cold.) he said, reaching around me for the Lórien cloak that was draped across the back of my seat. He wrapped it around my shoulders before I could protest his statement and surprisingly, I found it comforting. It smelled of him, like the woods and a thousand journeys, and suddenly, I felt like a child again compared to him. Things were simpler then, I almost wished I was.
"Lúmë ahya ilu," (Time changes everything/all.) he said, as if he could read my thoughts.
"Ná," (Yes,) I granted. "Ta kyar." (It does.) I felt his thumb brush against my cheek bone as his hand cupped my face and I flinched at first, then leaned into it, accepting it as the consolation it was meant to be. He gazed at me and his thumb moved to my lips, though I wasn't sure if it was purposeful or not.
I suddenly realized I was leaning toward him, even if it was very slowly. I stopped myself just as my lips brushed his, trying not to think about the fact that he had not stopped me himself. "Ávan maurë vanya." (I need to go.)
He nodded in agreement and rose to his feet, offering a hand to help me up as well. I accepted it and stood, though neither of us let go once I had risen. He glanced down at our hands, then lifted his gaze back up to mine. "Lle uin-" (You do not-)
"I know," I interrupted. "But I should."
He stared at me, a little too intently. Why had I never noticed in my childhood how perfect he was?
He took a step forward and I instinctively stepped back. When he took another, I forced myself to remain rooted to the spot, my eyes focused on my feet. I suddenly wondered if he was even aware that he was moving.
I felt his fore finger hook under my chin and allowed him to raise it, which turned out to be a mistake. I was powerless under his gaze. Elbereth, he was beautiful.
"Avá," (Don't.) I pleaded, feeling my resolve falter.
"Pustan," (Stop me.) he said, continuing to lean toward me.
While I had fully planned to stop him I found myself closing the gap between us instead. The kiss began tentative, even more so than the first, but quickly grew far more passionate, demanding even. His tongue grazed the seam of my lips, silently asking for entry, which I granted and his breathing grew more labored.
Before I even had much time to register that we were doing the very thing I had come here to stop from happening again, I realized we were slowly backing up. The foot of his bed met the back of my knees, but I did not pull away. He slowly lowered me onto it, his hand supporting the back of my head. His other hand drifted down to my hip, drawing a gasp out of me and it was here that he stopped.
It suddenly hit me how much more experienced he was than me and I think my gasp had proven it to him. He rolled off me and rose to his feet, muttering something in Elvish that sounded distinctly like "raica merë" (wrongful desire).
"Legolas," I began, sitting up and adjusting the shift I wore. "Why…"
He didn't face me, running a hand through his golden hair. "You know why," he said, barely audible. He glanced at me, rather uncomfortably. "I will not take your innocence."
I hesitated. "Not even if it is offered to you?" I ventured.
He shook his head, averting his gaze again. "You do not understand what you are offering."
"Because I am so young?" I demanded, anger fringing my tone.
"Do not speak as though it is an empty excuse." He turned away from me fully, facing the open fireplace now. "The most it can be minimized is that it is the least severe problem in a list of many where my feelings for you are concerned."
I rolled my eyes, cursing the Elven ability to be so cryptic. "It worries you that I am my father's daughter?"
"It will worry him that you are your father's daughter," he corrected me. "And I will not betray him."
I stood as well and crossed the short distance to him, halting directly in front of him and lifting a hand to his cheek. "I am not asking you to." He spoke as if I plotted to frame him for turning the King of Gondor over to an Orc.
His expression became impassive and he lifted my hand away. Had I been Elf-kind, I probably would have seen the pain it caused him. "There is much you do not understand, nessa quén." (young one)
"Then explain it to me," I suggested, watching him step away from me and face the fire again.
"When I am near you…" he trailed off, still refusing to meet my gaze, "my mind is no longer my own." He paused as if that explained everything. "Ávan mer…" (I want…)
"Man?" (What?) I urged.
"Things I should not," he finished tactfully. "You have to understand how strange this is. I've known you since you were a child, have thought of you mostly as my niece, and this…is a very different way to think of you."
"Well it is as confounding for the niece as it is for the uncle, if that is any consolation," I informed him, suddenly frustrated that he seemed to think he was the only one affected by this.
He faced me again and took me in his arms, surprising me. "I'm sorry, that was not what I meant," he sighed into my hair. I couldn't help but notice how right this felt, how perfectly I seemed to fit against him, my head tucked beneath his chin. And in the back of my mind, there was the distinct impression that he was noticing as well. "Elwyn," he whispered, pulling back to stare at me. "I cannot do this to Aragorn," he insisted. "Or to you."
"Do you not want me?" I questioned, self-consciously.
I saw him squeeze his eyes shut but I did not ask why. "Believe me, that is not it," he assured me, stepping back and walking briskly to the door. He pulled I open and stood silently in front of it, his hand on the latch. Sighing I crossed the room as well and stepped out into the hall, careful to avoid meeting his eyes.
* * * * *
More soon (I hope).
