Never Mine To Lose

Summary: Legolas watches the one he loves from a distance. **Not slash, and not a Mary Sue, either; both characters are authentic Tolkien creations.**

Rating: Hm...I'll give it a PG, since he does sort of undress her with his eyes at one point...not graphically, but he does do it.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. I would take out a loan, however, were you to offer Legolas to me. ;) Not just because he's quite sexy, but because of the way he shoots. There's something alluring about a guy who can stab an orc in the eye with an arrow, then wrench it out of the orc's skull and shoot another one with it...*sighs and commences daydreaming*

Author's Note: My first edition to this "dangerous" fandom...dangerous because I've only read The Hobbit and The Fellowship of the Ring as yet. I place the blame of my tardiness entirely on Mark Twain, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and John Steinbeck. (I think my English teacher had some part in it for assigning them all so quickly in succession.) Although I rather liked The Great Gatsby...Oh, look at that, I'm rambling. Anyway, the point I think I had was that I haven't read the last two books yet, and I'm dying to do so. Every fic I read is a risk, because I never know when I'm going to ruin the series for myself. But I haven't managed to spoil any endings yet. *crosses fingers* ;)

Oh, and the title is a line from "A Heart Full of Love" in Les Miserables, if that sort of thing interests you.

~*~

No matter how long I spend in Rivendell, I am always amazed by how bright the sun is, even on the cool, cloudy days. But the morning mist this morning holds a hint of the forest, and I find myself missing Mirkwood.

I wander restlessly through Elrond's marble halls, gazing in turn at the waterfalls and the hazy, distant mountains. Then I turn inside, and discover that I am in one of the many courtyards.

I am not alone. Someone is seated on the flagstones in the center of the pavilion, eyes closed, meditating. I feel my heart leap as I recognize her, for I have loved her as long as I remember.

She opens her dark blue eyes, and I see the distant fear in them. She feels what I have felt for many weeks now: danger growing in the east. I can tell by her look that the meditation has imparted no sense of comfort to her; the news the hobbits brought must been an even greater shock to her than to me.

She sighs, a sound as empty and hopeless as a dry autumn wind. She stands up, draws her sword, and brings it to guard. She still has not seen me, and I don't aim to make my presence known; I like to watch her practice katas. She swings the blade around in an intricate combination of defense and attack, and I envy her graceful movement. I have never known such ease with a blade.

She moves like sunlight on water, never ceasing or slowing, but always changing. Her hair escapes its braid, flowing like a Maera's mane behind her. The kata is almost like a dance, and she knows all the steps by heart. She's impossibly beautiful in her deep red tunic and leggings, and I find myself wondering, not for the first time, what she might look like without them...

I pull myself out of what is fast becoming a daydream. A shaft of sunlight pierces the cloud cover, flashing off her saber and momentarily blinding me. I raise my hand to block the glare, and that is what betrays me.

She stops, lowering her sword and looking at me. I step out from behind the courtyard's pillar as though I have merely been passing through. She smiles at me, a lock of hair blowing across her face in the light breeze. Were I closer, I would have brushed it away from her eyes, to touch if only briefly the soft skin of her cheek.

I bow to her as though she were princess of my own people, and she to me though I was prince of hers. Then she returns to her katas, and I have no choice but to walk on by.

I wonder sometimes why I have never told her, why all I ever do is adore her from a distance. But I know within my heart that she will never feel for me the way I do for her.

For she is Arwen Evenstar, and she has given her heart to Aragorn.