A/N: Here's chapter 12. It's not as good as the others, in my opinion.
Sorry. Also, my stockpiling plan didn't work…too much homework. So if I
go a few days without posting, I'm really sorry, but trust me, I'd rather
be writing this than the stuff I will be doing.
He replayed the kiss in his head, over and over again. The way her lips pressed against his, the way his heart leaped into his throat when her hand came around to rest on his neck, the way it felt to hold her in his arms, her body crushed close to his own. It was self-inflicted torture to think about it, especially after Elora's reaction to it made it pretty clear to Legolas that such a thing would never happen again. But he couldn't help himself. She shook him to his core, and her knew that the few moments they had had together would stay with him for all eternity.
Legolas looked out over the river. The water was ablaze with millions of sparkles as the sun slowly set. After she had run off he had found his feet carrying him here, to his secret spot along the river. It was the only place where he could think, although right now he wished he could stop.
What had changed? When they were younger, their friendship was strictly platonic; the thought of becoming romantically attached to her had never even entered his mind. But ever since she had come back, he couldn't get her out of his head, or his heart. Holding her hand that first night had felt like the most natural thing in the world. Dancing with her had been the second most exhilarating experience of his life.
That kiss was the most.
But it would probably never happen again.
He sighed as the sun finished its descent from the sky. There were only two options. Either he could pursue her and lose her, or pretend the kiss had never happened, pretend he still thought of her as only a friend, and keep her. Either one would bring him heartache of some kind, but in the end he knew he had to choose the latter. Though he very much wished to see what would have happened if they began a romantic relationship, he would rather have her in his life as a friend than not in his life at all.
Legolas stood, his mind made up. The next move was up to her; he wouldn't pursue her anymore.
"You are such an immature brat, Greenleaf," Elora said as they beached the canoe and stepped onto dry land.
"I can only say sorry so many times!"
It was five days after The Kiss, and for the most part they had returned to their regular routine. Elora had been at his practice session the day after and, while it had been tense at first, they did their best to get past it and act as if everything were normal. Legolas had kept to his plan as well; he hadn't even so much as touched her during that time, though every fiber of his being yearned to sweep her in his arms and kiss her again.
That afternoon they had gone canoeing again. When they were about halfway home Legolas started to gently rock the small boat. He thought he had it under control; he meant only to scare Elora with the prospect of capsizing. The unstable watercraft, however, had other ideas. Out they went into the freezing water. Now, almost an hour later, they were still quite damp, and Elora's anger had not diminished.
"What did you think would happen if you rocked the canoe, Legolas?" she raged. "Did you actually want us to tip out? Because if spending the afternoon in cold, wet clothes is your idea of a good time, then you need to have that foolish blonde head of yours examined!" She noticed that he was staring at her with an amused grin on his face. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"You have a spider in your hair."
Elora screamed and began tearing at her head. "Where? Where is it?"
"Alright, hold it on," he laughed. He reached over and removed the dead bug from her hair. Quite accidentally, one of his fingers gently brushed her cheek. It may have been a trick of light, but Legolas thought he saw a small blush suddenly appear.
"Thank you," she said softly. Then she pulled her hair back. "This mane is always getting in my way. I ought to just chop it all off."
"No, don't do that. You're hair is your best feature."
Again, the small blush. "Really?"
"Yeah," he answered breezily. "It hides your face."
Elora attacked him, tackling him to the ground. For the next few minutes they wrestled playfully, their laughter disturbing the peace of the forest.
"Gotcha!" Elora shouted as she pinned Legolas down. Their laughter immediately faded, though, when they saw the position they were in.
Legolas had been knocked flat on his back. Elora lay stretched out over the entire length of him. She was pinning his arms down high above his head. Slowly, she let go of her grip on them, and Legolas lowered them to his side. It took every ounce of self-control he could muster not to fling his arms around her, but he knew he couldn't. He needed Elora to make the move this time.
And so far, she hadn't moved at all. She was still lying practically on top of him, staring down into his eyes.
"What's happening between us?" she asked.
"I don't know," he answered truthfully.
"I'm scared."
"Me too."
"Well," she said after a slight pause. "At least we'll be scared together."
She leaned down and kissed him.
He replayed the kiss in his head, over and over again. The way her lips pressed against his, the way his heart leaped into his throat when her hand came around to rest on his neck, the way it felt to hold her in his arms, her body crushed close to his own. It was self-inflicted torture to think about it, especially after Elora's reaction to it made it pretty clear to Legolas that such a thing would never happen again. But he couldn't help himself. She shook him to his core, and her knew that the few moments they had had together would stay with him for all eternity.
Legolas looked out over the river. The water was ablaze with millions of sparkles as the sun slowly set. After she had run off he had found his feet carrying him here, to his secret spot along the river. It was the only place where he could think, although right now he wished he could stop.
What had changed? When they were younger, their friendship was strictly platonic; the thought of becoming romantically attached to her had never even entered his mind. But ever since she had come back, he couldn't get her out of his head, or his heart. Holding her hand that first night had felt like the most natural thing in the world. Dancing with her had been the second most exhilarating experience of his life.
That kiss was the most.
But it would probably never happen again.
He sighed as the sun finished its descent from the sky. There were only two options. Either he could pursue her and lose her, or pretend the kiss had never happened, pretend he still thought of her as only a friend, and keep her. Either one would bring him heartache of some kind, but in the end he knew he had to choose the latter. Though he very much wished to see what would have happened if they began a romantic relationship, he would rather have her in his life as a friend than not in his life at all.
Legolas stood, his mind made up. The next move was up to her; he wouldn't pursue her anymore.
"You are such an immature brat, Greenleaf," Elora said as they beached the canoe and stepped onto dry land.
"I can only say sorry so many times!"
It was five days after The Kiss, and for the most part they had returned to their regular routine. Elora had been at his practice session the day after and, while it had been tense at first, they did their best to get past it and act as if everything were normal. Legolas had kept to his plan as well; he hadn't even so much as touched her during that time, though every fiber of his being yearned to sweep her in his arms and kiss her again.
That afternoon they had gone canoeing again. When they were about halfway home Legolas started to gently rock the small boat. He thought he had it under control; he meant only to scare Elora with the prospect of capsizing. The unstable watercraft, however, had other ideas. Out they went into the freezing water. Now, almost an hour later, they were still quite damp, and Elora's anger had not diminished.
"What did you think would happen if you rocked the canoe, Legolas?" she raged. "Did you actually want us to tip out? Because if spending the afternoon in cold, wet clothes is your idea of a good time, then you need to have that foolish blonde head of yours examined!" She noticed that he was staring at her with an amused grin on his face. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"You have a spider in your hair."
Elora screamed and began tearing at her head. "Where? Where is it?"
"Alright, hold it on," he laughed. He reached over and removed the dead bug from her hair. Quite accidentally, one of his fingers gently brushed her cheek. It may have been a trick of light, but Legolas thought he saw a small blush suddenly appear.
"Thank you," she said softly. Then she pulled her hair back. "This mane is always getting in my way. I ought to just chop it all off."
"No, don't do that. You're hair is your best feature."
Again, the small blush. "Really?"
"Yeah," he answered breezily. "It hides your face."
Elora attacked him, tackling him to the ground. For the next few minutes they wrestled playfully, their laughter disturbing the peace of the forest.
"Gotcha!" Elora shouted as she pinned Legolas down. Their laughter immediately faded, though, when they saw the position they were in.
Legolas had been knocked flat on his back. Elora lay stretched out over the entire length of him. She was pinning his arms down high above his head. Slowly, she let go of her grip on them, and Legolas lowered them to his side. It took every ounce of self-control he could muster not to fling his arms around her, but he knew he couldn't. He needed Elora to make the move this time.
And so far, she hadn't moved at all. She was still lying practically on top of him, staring down into his eyes.
"What's happening between us?" she asked.
"I don't know," he answered truthfully.
"I'm scared."
"Me too."
"Well," she said after a slight pause. "At least we'll be scared together."
She leaned down and kissed him.