Legolas found himself back in his room some hours later, the door shut. He was alone with his thoughts. For now. Or would that insolent Ranger somehow find a way to creep in the window? Legolas flopped down onto his bed, his head spinning, weary from all the ale he had downed in order to put that man from his thoughts. So why did he keep creeping back into his thoughts, like some kind of venemous insect? By Elendil. Legolas pushed his hair back from his forehead, shocked to find it slick with sweat. Was he losing his nerve?
No. Not him. He was perfect, the most beautiful thing to walk Middle Earth, he tried to convince himself half-heartedly. No one, Man or Elf, could surpass his enchanting, haunting good looks. Nor his archery, skills tuned to perfection. And no one, not anyone, could take those things from him. Not anyone. Those were his gifts. His talents. Weren't they? Was he, Prince Legolas Thranduil, really started to question himself?
*.*.*.*.*
Legolas sat up quickly, his slim frame trapped chokingly in the sheets. He was suprised to see moonlight playing on the silken sheets, dust dancing in the darkness. Had he really fallen asleep? He bit his lip, hard, until he felt a drop of blood run down his chin. As if in a dream, he slowly raised his hand and touched the blood that had, until seconds ago, ran in his veins. He looked at the tiny, glistening drop of blood on his finger. What was happening to him?
A sudden noise made him jump. The large wooden door swung open, revealing a young She-Elf, clothed in a billowing silver gown of Rivendell and shaking like a cornered mouse. She kept her eyes glued to the floor, her finger twisting her long hair into nervous curls. Legolas was pleased to see that she was nervous to see him. Now this was something he was familiar with. It happened all the time in Mirkwood. He beamed a charming, heart-melting smile at the young woman quivering under the door-frame, at the same time hastily wiping all traces of the blood from his face, all his insecurities temporarily gone. "Yes, Dearest?"
The Elf turned a delicate shade of pink. At Legolas' small complement, she swayed dangerously on her feet, looking about to faint. "L-Lord Elrond r-requested your prescence at a-an immediate F-Fellowship meeting." Legolas rose quickly from his bed, not even noticing the wrinkled state of his clothes. "Thank you," he whispered, and quickly kissed her hand. He was so eager to get to the meeting, he almost ran out the door. The Prince didn't even hear the young Elf's sigh of infatuation, nor did he hear her hit the floor in a dead swoon.