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Searching For the Sun
Chapter Two

as roleplayed by
Kabanas and Morgana

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Disclaimer: Legolas belongs to Tolkien, and we thank him endlessly for creating such a fascinating character. Laurëlómë belongs to me, and to Legolas. In our usual style, this was written in an RP format, with Kris writing Legolas while I wrote Laurelome. Anyone who knows me knows that I don't like RPing from books unless the RP takes place within a period of time not written about in the book. Hence, this story and it's subsequent chapters take place within "gaps" in the trilogy. We're taking liberties with Legolas here, but nowhere in the story does it say that he never had a relationship with anyone. Artistic liscence, anyone? This second chapter takes place during the month and a half that the Fellowship spend in Lothlorien.

Lothlorien, late autumn / early winter.

Laurelome Amongst the trees and flowers of the silver city of Lorien, there was whisper that the fabled fellowship of nine had passed over Khazad-dum, and made their way into the realm of the Lady of the Wood. And the very morning of their arrival, a lady of warm red hair and gentle fingers upon her instrument hears tell of the guests. To a passing archer, one who had been in the woods at the time, she inquires as to the presence of an elf among their party. Answered in the affirmative, Laurëlómë wonders at the swell of hope that passes through her figure. And so, creeping through the balconies and staircases of Lorien, she finds herself poised above the camp of the Fellowship.

Laurelome The harper smiles quietly as the one she seeks seems to wander off, and along the overhead paths and stairs she follows, until at last he pauses to inspect his surroundings. "Were you looking for something?" she calls down, amusement wafting along in her voice.

Legolas Ever since his departure from the Dwarf City of Moria, Legolas had felt he had been running for his life. The anxious jog into the old redwood forests of fabled Lothlorien ended on a brief note, and his stay there was commenced with many fierce arrow shafts pointed at his face in greeting. It was then, when he found himself surrounded by gray-robed elves that Legolas finally confirmed fable to be a reality. The Fellowship had, indeed, strayed into the realm of the Lady of Wood. By the time the remaining eight of their party had been escorted into the deeper trenches of Lorien's kingdom-metropolis, the fresh sorrow of Gandalf the Grey's passing had been temporarily relieved by the sheer awesome sight of the silver city.

Legolas Monolith trees as majestic as the towers of Gondor contained in their fat trunks winding staircases of pure amber that lead to the canopy housings. Legolas was lost in his own fascination with the city as with the other seven. So much so that his steps strayed and he was soon found at the back of the parade, eyes shooting up towards the heavens. There didn't seem to be an end to their height! Even sunlight had difficulty penetrating the complex network of leaves and branches that provided a makeshift rooftop for the entire city. Here, indeed, the Sindarin prince felt peace and security more than he had ever encountered since their initial journey out of Rivendell. Stalking now over the gargantuan roots that had surfaced from the ground, Legolas didn't quite know what to make of this world.

Legolas It felt as if he had strayed into a dream, for indeed, lamps of every size illuminated the city so that its amber structures glittered like starshine in the unsettling darkness. More striking than that, however, was the voice that greeted Legolas next, nearly taking him off balance. Wheeling around like a human turret, the archer's bow was already pointed in Laurelome's direction and a hand was ready set to pull a deadly arrow out of his quiver. If only his heart hadn't stopped him. It was profoundly symbolic that in this position the beautiful silver ring on his left thumb was perfectly framing the woman's face at this distance.

Legolas Lowering his bow, Legolas was shot in multiple points along his heart with utmost longing. "The sun...." he found himself repeating. But it was truth he spoke of, for he was searching for sunlight to better illuminate that feminine figure high in the trees. An eternal moment passes between them, awkward and sour as their parting. But then, something within the prince moves him to action, so that in seconds he is bounding towards the amber stairs, claiming the walkway with long, anxious strides as though he was pursuing the sun itself. What seemed like a continent of distance between them now was separated only by ten feet of long planks, for Legolas had scaled up to the top of the talan platform in the blink of an eye. He stops shortly there, hesitating.

Laurelome She can only stare, her eyes transfixed on the sight she had longed to see for so long, and even if she had been shadowing the graceful archer for a few moments, to look squarely upon his face now caused her a moment of breathlessness. "I…." Seems to be about all she can muster, until, "You received my note?"

Legolas Theprince advances forward, using his bow as something of a crutch to lean his stumbling frame on. Without breaking his stride, a small parchment is pulled from inside the black rubber cuff tightly wrapped along his left forearm. The cuff was the mark of every archer. It was needed to brace one's wrist against bending during the stringing of the arrow. Stopping in his tracks, now an embrace away from Laurelome, Legolas lowers his eyes to the cursive Quenya on the unrolled paper, nodding slowly. He then turns his attention on the ring in his hand, running a finger along the distinct canyons in the metal ivy. "I did...and for the better part of my days away from Rivendell, it was all I ever thought about..."

Legolas Undoing the clasp of his necklace, Legolas removes the beautifully crafted cross from his neck. The chain is slowly gathered inside her parchment, the centerpiece left atop the silver mound. Tenderly taking her hand, he places the gift on her palm. "If one day I reach the sea, I will turn to the waves in hope of hearing your song. And if I am given audience to the melodies of your sweet harp, then I will know you have come bearing this token for returning to its master." Collecting her other hand now and enfolding it over the necklace, Legolas lowers himself in a bow before tenderly pulling away from her touch.

Laurelome She had harbored second thoughts about the message she'd given the Hobbits to deliever, but only after they'd gone. And now, it seemed, it had not been in vain. For a moment, she stands quiet, regarding the silver necklace piled atop the parchment, and relishing the touch of his hand. And still silent, she clasps the necklace about her throat. casts her gaze back to the prince, a brilliant warmth flickering in the glacial blue. 'I shall wear it always,' her gaze said, and remained studying his features with a half-smile. Yet, like that day in the garden, she spies a sadness that settled over his face. It must have been a harrowing journey. Not able to bear that shadow of sorrow, she speaks then. Laurelome's tone is soft, barely above a whisper. "I must play something for you, then, as promised, that you will recognize upon that day."

Legolas "May it be," Legolas declared, stepping in to seal the distance between them, "a song to last the ages." There was little he could do here for her. This was her home. He was yearning to be closer but felt restricted to a simple joining of their hands, rested lowly between them. He absorbed the shock cold of her hands and in turn pressed the remnants of Moria's searing heat into her palms. At that moment, Legolas felt the bitter memories of Gandalf's passing flooding back to his mind. They hollowed out the rest of his frame and collected along the rosy edges of his light eyes, so that the sorrow there was preserved so fully it seemed forever a part of him. To tear, to pierce, to wound-Legolas' gaze were capable of all these things when happiness escaped his heart.

Legolas His eyes had glazed over with trouble and his brows wilted to the earth as if he was ready to collapse. He had been part of a journey the likes of which no elf has ever strayed away from home for. The foible of elves was their penchant to staying in the woods. Clearly now, it was for her to read between Legolas' silent lament. "Take me away from here, Laurelome…" is all that he can manage when his senses return to him.

Laurelome And what heart could resist a plea such as that. Not hers, surely, for it could hardly even stand to watch the grief script itself across his soulful eyes. Retrieving one of her hands, she lifts it to rest gently upon his cheek, her whole being aching to do whatever she could to help him forget that pain. It was too deep to remove, but she could at least help ease it. Resting her palm there a moment, it then trails lightly to the back of his neck beneath that finest of hair, and gently tugs him towards her. Once closer, she inclined her head only slightly to place a feather-light kiss upon his brow. Her heels silently touch the ground again, and the hand still entwined with his leads the way down the stairs.

Legolas Throughout it, the archer prince remained still as the evening star. No one had embraced him in this sweetly tender manner before. Despite status or skill, he could never afford the luxury of a warm embrace. His time spent in politics became his only passion until this age, when he learned of affection the same way he lost himself to song, the way his soul grew restless under moonlight. One day in the future, Legolas will remember this instance as the very first time he allowed himself to be lead without worry presiding over his heart. Above their heads rang the long tones of Lorien's hymns, no one voice distinguishable from the other. It was through this curtain of chanting that Legolas was lead, deep into the heart of the lamp-lit silver city.

Laurelome Laurelome leads him some way into the city until, creeping through the roots and paths and stairs, there meanders a stream at the base of a tall tree with a staircase that wound not far up it's silver trunk. By the bank of the creek, in a patch of shockingly green grass, sits a delicately wrought stone bench, upon it a soft coverlet to stave off the chill of rock. Upon that coverlet sat the carefully bound book she had been studying in Rivendell, and a harp sat at the base of the vines that wove up the bench's legs. There was no mistaking that this haven, lit by the last rays of the sun, was Laurëlomë's own. The talan above was softly lit, and furnished comfortably. It is there that she leads him.

Laurelome She collects her harp on the way up the graceful staircase, and settles it on a small table upon arrival. Gesturing to any one of the comfortable benches about the vast suite, she pours two goblets of wine, settling down beside Legolas with a warm smile. "It isn't much, I'm afraid, but this is my home," and here she getures humbly about.

Legolas Polite sensibilities return to Legolas upon entering Laurelome's home. He stood in the middle of the vestibule at his tallest height, calmly vigilant over every inch of her belongings as though appraising their worth. It was humble enough to his standards, but his standards were consistently favorable towards everything. Moreover important was the mantle of peaceful energy that was abundant here. It flowed like sweet wine in the air, restless as water. Outside, the stream played the perfect accomplice to this harmonious setting. Legolas' nerves were instantly settled. He was familiar in this silver light, and had even dreamed of such simple beauty. Setting his armaments behind a goblet, Lorien's Sidran celebrity settled down on the edge of a wicker bench and raised his eyes to her, perfectly attentive.

Laurelome Laurelome beams inwardly at the relaxation that seems to wash over Legolas, reaching for her harp. She paused no more than a moment before the perfect song came to her, and she trailed her fingers over the taut strings with all the fluid grace and expert that the prince wielded over his bow and arrows. The tune that she elicits settles perfectly into the hymn resounding. Laurelome, before long, adds words to the gentle chords, her voice echoing with crystal clarity, and yet ambiguity amongst the sounds of the forest outside, as was the manner of most Elven voices. She went on, her eyes sliding closed as she poured her heart into her song.

Legolas By the end of her performance, the Silvan prince was leaning lightly in her direction, enthralled by the beauty of her song. In his eyes fell the look of sorrow. There was only pure magic within them, glazed over by awestruck longing. Her song had reminded him of his longing for home, his longing for Gandalf the Grey from the shadows, his longing for her. The galaxy of stars within his mind paused in their kaleidoscoping chaos to swirl in a circular pattern. He mentally pictured them moving in his head, continuous, in harmony with his appreciation for such fine singing. Legolas wished he had the heart to tell her how much her playing had just meant to him. It was the first glimpse of innocence he had seen since Rivendell.

Legolas And oh, how he longed to lean further and be caught in a sleeping spell with this woman, just so he can live in this dream for eternity... The language of the elves had rarely been sung in so extraordinary a manner. There remained the echoes of her harp surrounding the room, like the trailing light of an evening star passing. He slowed himself to an easy stand, but though her visitor maintained his glorious posture, he found his once agile knees were suddenly now very shaky. Legolas had begun to slip into formal Sindarin at this point. "Your skill is truly a gift from above, fair maiden of Lorien..."

Laurelome She opens her eyes once more to see the prince standing, and her smile came softly at his words. She stood as well, the fine material of her dress whispering as she moves to collect his hands, much in the same manner as he had done earlier, upon arriving. They were warm, and she clasped them tenderly. She felt a blush spread to her cheeks. She had always been imperturbable, not matter what praise was given for her singing, but his words meant much more to her than anything she had been told in all her years. It was as if she'd forgotten there was a world outside this lush talan, and if she hadn't forgotten, she wanted to. What mission he was on, she could not guess, but it would take him away from her again.

Laurelome Internally, she railed against that thought. She knew if he left - when he left - there would be no other station in the lands she could ride to and await him at. A soft sigh of sadness crossed her soft lips. "If it is a gift, then I would it were one I could give to only you."

Legolas He remained timid as a hare, only just now gathering the courage to look up from the ground into the light in her eyes. He had never felt confusion such as this before. It was a most heavenly experience. The remembrance of her soft touch will remain with him unto the ages, for no love-struck creature had ever took an interest in him with so much passion. He was bound to the moment by a love that transcended even the evil poured into the One ring. The harsh reality of his existence was put away for but a few moments, and laced with the innocence of the most precious creature he dared to fall in love with. Legolas allowed Laurelome to play with his fingers as though they were the strings of her harp. He was lost and beside himself. So accustomed was he to slaughter and bloodshed in the days before them that the glow of her elven hands no longer appeared commonplace over his own.

Legolas Elves were the eternal bearer of light. Since his departure from Rivendell, Legolas had seen his brightness turn dull from the pure silk that was his skin. It was lost to him days ago, when orc and goblin blood splatterd his figure and tainted him out of glamour. So bright was her glow that he wanted to be enveloped within it. Small experience in matters of the heart made Legolas appear childish, though his strong emotions pulled him closer to Laurelome so that his face neared hers. Here, he no longer knew what to do. The uncertainty was evident on his face, yet he advanced slowly, near whispering along the smoothness of her temple.

Legolas "Have you never seen an elven heart break, lady?" The prince's voice was carried so lowly that the wind could scant give its faint volume a lift. "For that is what mine will do should you place your beauty in my possession..."

Laurelome It was her turn to look confused, or rather torn. "I would trust it to you in an instant, and yet, if it would cause such dire consequences, I would dare not, for your heart is too pure to be broken, and it would despair me to do so." Again, as she had done before, one of her hands left his and settled upon his cheek, drawing him gently down. There, her breath soft against his, she pressed her lips to his, and stepped forward to close the small distance. It was a moment of pure joy, so unlike any she'd known. His lips were so smooth, and her hand wandered of it's own accord to the back of his neck. Even if they never saw each other again, she would have this to remember, and though it would pale in comparison to his presence, it would hold her through her life.

Legolas His trembling was given little chance to surface for he soon found himself amidst the most stirring sensation he had felt in a lifetime. His eyes slid to a close and did not open although his soul had drifted into her mouth and his chest felt steel with solidified longing. He was awkward at first and unsure, but when lovers kiss thoughts are absent. Indeed, the Sindarin visitor was afloat in bliss, not a worry or an outside impression to be had on his mind. Her lips were smooth and different from what he imagined it would feel like. They bid him to relax and follow her without question. Soon, if she were to continue, he would be on his knees...

Legolas Pale hands slid in participation down the lengths of her side, resting lightly on either side of her waist. The material of her gown was infinitely softer than the rough hew of his archer uniform. Was this where his hands belong? Legolas couldn't help the appearance of the thought when Laurelome pulled away from him. His lips instinctly followed after her, his eyes fluttering open. A kiss was tenderly imprinted upon her forehead, remaining there three heartbeats long. Slowly retreating, Legolas appeared more earnest now than ever. His long, golden lashes were transfixed on her face, still sleepy with desire. "Fate has been challenged already by my being here," he found the voice to reply.

Legolas "I will not ask anything of you that you will not give freely. But know now that you have bound me forevermore with desire. Even if I were to stray from Middle Earth, I would not cease in stargazing until I have seen your face once more. -I- will despair, if you fool yourself in thinking that my heart does not -want- to be broken by you... Oh, Starlight of Lorien, I would rather care to suffer a speared heart than be parted from you." At this, he peeled Laurelome's hand from his shoulder and searched for its companion at her side. With them, he slowly reached for his back and enfolded them to a close so that she was now embracing him. His own hands rested on the slippery lengths of her forearms. Now she would have to answer him.

Laurelome Even after their lips parted, her eyes remained closed, soft lashes fluttering against her pale skin. "Yet I would give you anything you asked of me, without question. Anything." Her hands trembled as he guided them, for she too was a stranger to these feelings. Never had she given herself over to such pure longing. "I have already given my heart to you." Closing her arms more tightly, embracing him, she lowered her head to his shoulder and sighed softly, "It is worth challenging fate to spent even a moment in your arms, and indeed I wonder if, once you depart this place, I shall ever feel so warm again, save for in your embrace."

Legolas "Then you leave me no choice but to carry you in my thoughts always," he responded with pure certainty, hugging her tightly. "On my word you will never be forgotten, for you now are the keeper of my heart. I would never ask you for anything." And then..."Then you leave me no choice but to carry you in my thoughts always," he responded with pure certainty, hugging her tightly. "On my word you will never be forgotten, for you now are the keeper of my heart. I would never ask you for anything."

Laurelome Laurelome smiles into his neck. "And on my word, I shall not drop it, but hold it close to me always. "Leaning back, she parted with some reluctance. "Even if you must leave, I sense we shall have a few days between us before we must think of any such rending experience, and you said you wished to see all of Lorien. We will walk all the paths we may, and the ones we cannot travel now, we will come back and travel another time."

Legolas This brought a genuine but passive smile to Legolas' lips, one of the few in his lifetime. He was content with the image of them walking along Lorien's waterways and skyhigh boardwalks. "My hand is yours," he responded at once, holding out just that for her to lead him with. A considerable amount of determination had elongated Legolas' posture and blanketed him with all the splendor alloted to high born elves. "Do not let what has yet come to pass harden your face, Starlight," his Sindarin interrupted the elven lament in the trees. Not soon thereafter, he added with hopeful joviality: "Our hearts will carry us to the canopy of this fair city and with it we may yet one day reach the sea."

Laurelome She collects his hand tenderly in hers, and side by side, they walked down the winding staircase to the paths below, sunlight sinking into it's lodge, the moon showing already in sky through the trees. She looked about the paths with as much wonder as he-her home never ceased inspiring awe in the graceful woman of Lorien. "It is a thing to see in the evening, my dearest, when the lights are lit and the songs begin."

Legolas Legolas's omnipresent curiosity returns and steals his attention away to the distant trees and the darkening black pitch of dusk lighted by orbs of soft amber from the hung lanterns in every direction. "Lorien has certainly made an impression to last the ages," he answered. Legolas turned his face away from the scene to trail his gaze after the languidly-floating boats in the far river. There seemed to be a procession in progress, for the swan canoes numbered in the twenties. "An elegy?"

Laurelome The harper nods silently, her hand closing more strongly about his hand, a silent gesture that he did not have to bear the grief alone. All keenly felt the lost of Mithrandir in this gleaming country, Laurelome included. She had met the wizened old Pilgrim on occaison, and he had oft given her kind words of her music, and a willing ear to test her new melodies upon. Indeed it seemed as if he had spared a moment to each Elf at some time. Laurelome pauses in their walk by the river, bowing her head in respect to the passing. "Do not dwell, love. For even if he is indeed gone out of this world for all time, he has touched many people, and he will not be forgotten."

Legolas He moved slightly behind Laurelome so he became her shadow. His faraway hand still clung to her own, but the stray on the left played lightly down the crimson tresses that fell on her back. He spoke to the ground when he spoke to her, for his head, too, was bent in memorial. "I have learned not to. For if I dwell on Gandalf the Grey's passing, he will cloud my soul with suffering to the last of my days. Such a quandary courage is, for it is the greatest men who fall hardest under the spell of the smallest leap of confidence." When Legolas raised his eyes to the passing parade, he frowned at a little at a particular figure that he saw. "The Lady of the Wood?"

Laurelome She nods again. "That is she, Lady Galadriel. Is she not a sight to behold? So is so many contradictions and similarities all in one. I would not even presume to try and fit her into one description. She is many things." As the boats passed, she led him on along the path, towards the smaller rivers and streams, and the glades surrounding them.

Legolas Their leisurely pace ought to have taken them a short distance, but the lengthy strides of the two elves covered ground quickly, even when time was against them. Legolas had enjoyed the long silence between them, with only the trail of lanterns to light their way, when suddenly his step faltered and he stopped to throw a pensive stare towards the water. A hand rubbed along his drawing shoulder and swept down across his chest, his face full of thought. "An archer parted from his bow..." he whispered to himself, but loud enough for her to catch his musing. He had just remembered the armaments he had unwittingly abandoned back at her cottage. "I have truly been speared in the heart..."

Laurelome Suddenly pausing, a light frown playing across her delicate, yet sharp Elven features. "It could be in no safer place where it is, save for in your hands, and I assure you, you will not have need of it here, but if you wish it, we may turn back for it."

Legolas The most feather-light of smiles rippled across the Sidran archer's face. His brows rose in gentle mockery of her, for he had only been thinking aloud. "And should a stray hobbit wander into your home and claim it for himself...?" Although his face was blank of folly, the exclamation near the end of Legolas' words made it obvious he was testing her wit. Under moonlight, he supposed, the lunar pull made his stoicism appear in strange forms.

Laurelome Laurelome casts a questioning, but merry gaze back at him, a smile taking residence in her eyes and the corners of her lips. "..Then you would have not but one problem finding it again. Which of all the -four- Hobbits in the whole of Lorien has lain his sticky fingers upon it. I admit, four is a vast number to seek through, especially for such a -small- object."

Legolas He had to fall back a step at that. "Small?" he echoed. A small, ambiguous laugh issued forth from Legolas, but its intention, whether condescending or imaginary haughtiness, could not be told. "Lady, the bow of Sindarin elves is crafted of the hardiest tree in Mirkwood--nowhere else can a bowman find darker wood or one so supple... I fear not, however." At this point, the archer had slightly turned his back away from her so his eyes could hide their mirth. "It is fact halflings prize the merry accompaniment of a harp more so than weapons..."

Laurelome She answers his retort with good-natured irritation, "If you are seeking a way to rile a docile woman, sir, you have surely landed upon it. Although, my harp is larger than your precious bow, and thus all the easier to find amongst scampering Halflings." Laughing then, and tugging on his arm, she takes to leading him again. "I must beg a truce of this merciless teasing. The pilfering of my harp, I cannot jest of."

Legolas 'A smile to remember for all the ages replied to Laurelome's prostestation. It had been Legolas' fiercest grin yet. "Sorry, my lady..." his light eyes danced with rare mischief. "We archers are easy prey to women's scorn..." That ended their brief tussle, for elves were by no means an expressive race. Folly was better left to humans. A smile to remember for all the ages replied to Laurelome's prostestation. It had been Legolas' fiercest grin yet. "Sorry, my lady..." his light eyes danced with rare mischief. "We archers are easy prey to women's scorn..." That ended their brief tussle, for elves were by no means an expressive race. Folly was better left to humans.

Laurelome Laughing at that, she tugged him back towards her again, and met his lips with a tender kiss. "Come, the evening feast will begin shortly, and it too is one thing you would be unfortunate to miss seeing." With that, she started off towards a glade where there were many an Elf, and indeed Legolas' companions, making merry with food and drink and songs aplenty. She would forsake her harp for his company tonight.

Legolas That became Legolas' first taste of women's games. Stunned into silence, he first had to regain his composure before following obediently after her. They separated at this point, walking apart from each other with some degree of civility. They were met with inquiring stares from several of the early attendants. Legolas escorted Laurelome to a handsomely-carved stone bench. Immediately, he realized she was one of the few maidens in the lot. Apart from the entire gathering, he spotted the hobbit Frodo next. The small creature had his hood about him and rested atop an empty bench, furry feet hanging still over the edge. Not far from him was Samwise Gamgee, who was no more than ten feet from the lad at all times. The archer prince motioned to change seats to pay the downcast halfling a visit...

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Chapter three is in the works... give us your reviews! We thrive on approval. :>
~Morgana