The Year 1900 of the Third Age, Following 'A Secret on Their Lips'
"Miriel?" she said quietly. "Miriel, wont you help me with these buttons in the back?"
Unede turned to look at her cousin who was sketching beside her on the porch. The sun was warm above them and the light trickled through the leaves of her tree, making the facets of light dance on the elleths beneath it.
"Oh…Sure, come and stand here." Unede moved before her cousin who lay down her pencil and finished the buttons that sat at the center of the captains back. "There you are dear." She whispered and gave a gentle smile. "This one is quite lovely Unede, such a nice waist. Did Amarie stitch the flowers?" She said fingering the fine green linen with little yellow flowers about the wrists."
"She did." Unede said quietly and took a seat next to her cousin. "Well, I suppose…" She began and then paused. Miriel stopped her sketching and looked to Unede, and took a moment to evaluate her cousins uncomfortable demeanor.
"Unede you have been so…"She started. "Well ever sense your marchwarden…I only mean to say I am worried for you. Do you want to talk about Duilin." But Unede shook her head and took her cousins hand.
"His death has upset me greatly dear cousin, but I fear there is much more on my heart than that." Unede gave Miriel and gentle smile. "Won't you excuse me?" She stood before Miriel could give a small nod and climbed down the ladder to the forest floor where she strode away.
Her feet carried her down the path, led by the whisper of the tree's and the winds laughter in her ears, and the gentle tickling of her fea. The grief in her heart and the anxiety in her belly twisted into a knot of emotion she could hardly wriggle out of. Her arms felt bound and her lips sewn shut, and the only thing it seemed that could move was her feet and they were pushed along by the earth itself. How she wondered did she find herself in such a dark place? Usually she was as free as the wind itself, but the events of the weeks before had left her unsettled and quiet.
Before she realized it she found herself at the door of the fletcher on the edge of the market. And she could not think of how she came to be there, for she would have to have walked through town to reach the door, and she had been to lost in her thoughts to realize where her legs had gone. She shook off the haze of her mind and walked through the gate and wound around the stone fire pits, and through the archway towards the widdiling room where the shafts of the arrows were made. Raw branches were piled under a stone shed, and long shafts were set drying near the fires. And there before her, sitting on a bench running his hands over a birch branch was Legolas and beside him the dark hair of a fletcher who turned to greet her.
"Oh Captain, I am honored to see you here." He said with a smile, leaving the Prince's side and striding towards her. The arrow smith placed his hand on his chest and gave a little bow.
"It is a pleasure to be here." She started. "I…I dare say I am more acquainted with the blacksmith, so I hope you will forgive me, both because I do not come more often, and because I did not come seeking out you." She gave a small nod and looked towards Legolas.
"There is nothing to forgive My Lady." He looked tentatively towards Legolas, then gave another bow and said. "I shall take my leave."
She walked towards Legolas and took a cautious seat next to him. He held the birch branch in his hands and ran his fingers over it, taking in its essence, and it seemed to her that the wood spoke to him in some language only he could understand. That it whispered to him what its future would be in his hands, what it was grown to do. She wondered if she was like that wood, and if her very being whispered its wants to his.
"It will make a fine arrow." She said touching its smooth bark.
"Aye it will." He nodded, thinking she spoke of more than just the wood in his hand. "This will fell some foul beasts in its time I think." And she gave a gentle smile at his words. They sat for a moment listening to the scratching of the birds and the huff of their feathers ruffling in the yard, until at last neither of them could seem to hold their tongues any longer.
"I thought-" she began.
"I did not-" he started.
Blush came to their cheeks and he laughed a little, and looked at her face. Her hands clinched the folds of her dress so hard her knuckles were white and he thought he could almost feel how firmly she was biting her lips. He remembered this look, remembered the first battle he had seen her in, pale and nervous, but beneath the nerves a flame of courage flickered, boiling the ocean blue of her eyes. He wondered, if he spoke first now would all the water of her courage simmer out of her and parch her tongue forever. Yes, it was possible, possible now for his own impatience to silence her. She came to him in a fine dress, and unbraided hair, this was more than a meeting between friend, lest he read her wrong.
"I thought we ought to talk about what I said the other night…I." She paused, and he looked away, not wanting to seem as thought he would pressure her to speak. "I, well I just…..Do you remember when Miriel spilled the stew?" She asked smiling as she recalled the look on the little elleths face with a dusty Prince had entered their home.
"Aye, how could I forget?" He laughed and took her hand. "Will I ever live it down?"
"No, but…" she looked at him. "You know, I wore the nicest dress I owned for that dinner."
He blushed and could hardly look at her. How could he forget, he had spent the whole of the afternoon with the newest recruits? They had run through drills, and sparred, and worked until the sun had set. It was not until he had reached his father's hall that a he remembered the dinner Unede had invited him to. He had run as fast as his feet could carry him through the village, and in his haste skidded past two lover's heading to watch the last of the sunset. 'Please forgive me, your wine, I need your wine.' And in his desperation they had given him their bottle, and he came breathlessly to Olwe's door well after meal had begun. In his shame he had assumed the elleth beside him would never speak with him again.
"Everyone thought what a sham of a Prince, coming late to dinner, so uncordial, what sort of King will he be? And there you were covered in dirt, wearing boots and bracers and tracking in mud."
"Do not forget the poor wine."
"I never shall…" she shook her head and gave his hand a squeeze and the warmth of her fingers filled his heart and sent shivers through his limbs. "They all thought you were mad. But not me."
"No?" He whispered.
"No." She said. "I thought you were the kind of Prince one should be. Dedicated, determined, an unwavering desire to protect your people, an unwavering need to mop up hot soup off the floor." She laughed. "You were, are, the kind of Princess I always wanted to be. The kind the Noldor would never allow me to be in all their propriety. And I knew, I knew I loved you then, and all I could think about was how unworthy I was. If anyone at that table was a shame and a sham, it was I."
"Perhaps it was meant to be." He shrugged. "The Valar know stranger things have happened than me loving you."
"Perhaps." She nodded. "Legolas I can not…I should never have said…" the words raced through her mind, but he spoke before she could finish.
"Unede, there are none who more than I know the burden of position. Here my realm is half of yours, and still I crouch beneath its weight." He moved the kneel before her and kissed her hands. "If only I could lay it aside. You are blessed, though it is hard to see. Blessed that there are other heirs, others who would take up the title of High King or Queen Blessed to have a Vice Regent in Lord Elrond. If it is not a duty you desire, then do not do it. But I must, I must do my duty. Surely you know that."
"I know." She gasped breathlessly as a tear dripped down her cheek.
"I would not put my burden on to you, there is no love so deep that I would make you take my crown unwillingly."
"I should never have told you Legolas."
"Silence, we both knew, but now it is spoken." He smiled and kissed her hands again. "Unede, if you ever are ready, if you ever desire to be our Princess then know… know I will be here. I am yours."
She smiled gently at him, and placed a hand on his face and drew him closer. "It should not be so. You should not be so loyal to me." She whispered and blinked away hot tears. "I would have you court another, I would be content to watch you wed and to be happy."
His brows furrowed, and she felt the hot anger flow through his fea and his face grow as warm as the summer sun. "Speak not of such things, it is a treachery."
"It is not!" Unede refuted. "Legolas, you know as well as I do you need an heir. There are many beautiful ladies who would wear your crown well. Who would give the kingdom what it requires, and I would dare say it is hastily required." Her mind thought only of the dangers and dark things that made their homes in their great forest and fear flickered in her heart.
Suddenly the space between them felt like miles, as though all the trees of Mirkwood had gathered densely between them, and one could hardly hear the words of the other.
"How can you say that? Have I ever showed favor to another?" He hissed, and took her wrist more roughly than he meant to. Her eyes widened at his grasp and suddenly she felt his fearsome possession of her. "How can you say you would be content to watch me wed, to watch my children borne to another elleth."
"My heart means nothing if it is wounded for the sake of the Kingdom!"
"Kingdom, ha! Would that if I could end this Kingdom to have you and bear you away in a mighty ship." His lips slid into a thin line and his eyes grew as dark as the sky before dawn. But suddenly a tenderness came about him, and the wind wisped away the fury in his spirit and he let out a laugh. "Don't you know how many ellons I have chased off you at the fire circles?"
"Legolas what are you-"
"Do not play as if you are unknowing of this! Ever since that dinner a thousand years ago, Ingwe and I have been occupying you for every dance we can, and sending suitors away from your Uncles door."
She smiled at him and twisted a lock of his hair in her fingers mischievously as she remembered the jealous look in his eyes whenever she danced with another. "Suitors you say? And how was it you knew that it was you who occupied my heart and not all these other suitors? Was it the bread?"
He cocked his head and pursed his lips together. "Oh aye, the bread was a help." He drew her closer, and took in her smell, and drank up the way the sun caught her hair like the dew on a summer morning. He ached for the soft of her lips, and remembered the haste in her hands in the tree that night. He felt his need rush through his being when her fingers met the skin on his neck and he his heart ached for her to be closer.
"Things can not be as they were before!" He said in a hoarse whisper as he breathed in the sent of her neck. She shuddered as his breath swept over her skin and felt a fire of desire grow in her. "For I cannot continue without you, even if it is not to have you as my wife."
"Well perhaps I can pity you with a kiss or a dance sometimes." She said with a shy smile, and took a step closer to him.
"Perhaps." The Prince whispered, and watched her for a moment, taking time to contemplate his words. He watched her bite her lips and her drank up the red of her cheeks as she flushed in the sunlight before him.
"You mean for more than that." She said, a light suddenly coming to her eyes, and in them Legolas saw the flash of desire that he himself shared, and he reveled in the way she looked at him with the thirst that follows a hot summer day. Her finger ran down his collar and he shuddered at her touch.
"I…" she held the words in her mouth and wondered at the scorching desire that she had been unable to quell. But he did not let her finish, and instead met her lips with his and pulled her closer to him, indeed it seemed impossible to get close enough to her and the layers of linen that separated them felt like leagues. He pulled back suddenly and looked up with a hiss.
"I have forgotten myself." He said briskly and stepping away from her. "Forgive me I…"
But she took his hand gently and looked up at him through eyes that were hazy with lust. "I would have us forget ourselves again, though perhaps more privately next time."
Legolas smiled at her and kissed her hands again gently, and felt her happiness spread through him and warm his fea. He shook his head and felt his hand reach into his pocket, lead by some invisible desire and from it he drew out a stone. It was as clear and brown as the rusted bark of an oak, strung with lines and cracks so that it looked like the heart of some ancient tree. It was wrapped in silver and strung on thin chain of mithril. "So that you know you are mine."
She ran her fingers over it, admiring how its surface glittered in the morning light. "It reminds me of the forest, the way the boughs fill with the sunlight, the way they are anchored to the earth."
"I am but a leaf on their mighty branches." He whispered.
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