Chapter11
The next morning, Legolas was up and dressed before the dawn. He knew that the morning meal would not be ready until another hour so sat at the foot of his bed, deep in contemplation. Lorith's words from the day before had haunted him through the night, making his rest less than fitful.
"What could Lorith have possibly meant?" he muttered to himself, deep in thought, "Would I not know if I was in love?" It troubled him greatly that he knew that it was so. After so many years of maidens openly falling at his feet, had he conditioned his logic against that of love?
He was loved, he knew it for a fact. And not just by the maidens of the kingdom. His father held him in such high regard that Legolas could not help but feel it an honor and duty to make Thranduil proud. He could feel his mother's love, extending to him over the Sea from the Undying Lands, strong and pure, wrapping him in a protective embrace. His friends held him dear, although he knew they would not admit such fancies; he could tell by their actions. And he loved them, all of them, as they so richly deserved, because it was what made his heart whole.
But, did he love as Lorith had suggested. This was met by no answer from himself, for his heart could not remember. Many a pretty face had caught his attention time and again, but none had held his heart. Not the way Arwen held Aragorn's. Now that was pure love if Legolas had ever seen it.
Since the beginning of the travels of the Fellowship, Legolas had always envied the two lovers. Arwen had sacrificed immortality for Aragorn and he in turn had done everything in his power to protect her. All the blood, sweat and tears he had shed during the Dark Times had been for her, for her love. Aragorn, in his desire to keep her happy, had urged her to sail with her people across the Sea, but she had refused. Her place, she had realized, was with him: to grow old alongside him and when the time came, following him in death.
Legolas had been awed with such a display of love that it had stirred long suppressed feelings in his heart. In his mind he could see himself in Mirkwood, a fair maiden as his wife beside him, even fairer children playing at their feet. Long before his travels had he wanted to become a father; to hold a babe, his child, within the safe embrace of his arms, protecting the innocent from the ever-changing world. To hear a child's laughter, knowing that sound as a part of you; to see a child's smile that reflected the brightness of the sun, bestowing the love only a child can give a parent.
He wanted to be this and that of a husband. To have someone to share your life with, that truly was a blessing. To an Elf, love was not something to take lightly, for if you did have it, then you had the rest of eternity to be blessed.
And perhaps it was because of these resurfacing emotions that he had weakened and allowed his friends to make their wagers. Love was within his grasp; he could feel it, almost taste it, it was so close. Had that been the reason why he had sought Ziendriel?
Legolas shook his head. "She merely intrigues me," he told himself, "And rightly so. Besides, she is only a friend. Just a friend." He repeated it to himself, almost as a mantra, finally nodding his head.
He stood from his bed and began to pace his bedchambers. "What was it that Lorith said?" he mumbled to himself. Methinks it is because you love the maiden. The words came floating back to him, as if in a dream. He knew the words well, for his mind had tormented him through the night with them. He frowned. "Do I love, Ziendriel?" he asked himself, "More than siblings born to each other?"
He fell into deep thought once again. After a moment he began to mumble, "If I did, what makes it so?"
It was his mind, his logic that answered him, attacking him with reasons that he knew by heart. He began to recite them. "She is a good friend; she keeps confidences; I am able to speak with her at a moment's notice; she understands me when I sometimes do not understand myself; she is strong and humble; and she makes me laugh." He paused at the last trait, which brought a smile to his face. Once again, he looked fondly upon the memory of her laughing…
Then, just as quickly, he pushed the thought aside with the shake of his head. "It does not mean anything," he muttered, thinking of the list he had just created, "The same reasons could be taken as love for a friend; a good friend. It does not answer the question I desire to be answered." He heaved a heavy sigh and glanced out the window. The sun's rays were now over the horizon, awakening the forest. He could hear the sounds of the morning off into the distance. "It is clear to me that I will receive no answers this morn," he announced to the empty room, "Perhaps after the morning meal I will take a walk to clear my head."
With that thought in his head, Legolas pulled his boots on, and with new purpose made his way down to the dining hall.
Unbeknownst to Legolas, Ziendriel was also struggling with her thoughts. She, however, was in a better position than he, for she had admitted to herself awhile ago of her feelings for the prince: she loved him. Not as the good friend that he supposed, but as one might as a lover or spouse. Her revelation had happened on the day of her first archery lesson.
FLASHBACK
"The bow must become a part of you," Legolas explained to her, showing her the bow, "It will define part of who you are and therefore, you must never be without thought of it." He handed it to her then and watched as she carefully looked it over. After a moment he nodded. "Observe," he told her, bringing out his own bow. He turned away from her, his left hand gripping his weapon with experience, his right hand pulling the bowstring with ease. He looked every part the archer and Ziendriel smiled in admiration.
Legolas gently released the string and turned back to her. "Now, you," he commanded.
Ziendriel turned sideways, as he had shown her and positioned the bow in her hands. Unfortunately, the familiarity of it threw off her stance and hold. The bowstring slipped from her fingers, emitting a loud TWANG! She felt her ears burn as she sheepishly turned to him.
He was smiling as he put his own bow down on the bench. "I will help you," he offered, motioning her back into position. He stood behind her and placed his hands on her hips. "You must be at an angle," he instructed, turning her slightly, "And stand straight; it will help with your aim and release." His hands had moved to her shoulders, gently coaxing them back. "Relax, Ziendriel," he added, teasingly, feeling her muscles tense, "I will not bite you."
She just mumbled something incoherent and did as he asked. However, she found it somewhat difficult to do with him being so close. Her skin tingled from his touch and she was beginning to feel as if a million butterflies were in her stomach, fluttering to escape. She had never experienced the sensation before, but found it strangely comforting.
Legolas, however, did not seem to notice. He continued with his instruction, finally ending up behind her, his arms wrapped around her as he helped with her grip. "This will come to you naturally as the lessons progress," he told her softly. His mouth was now near her ear and she could feel his warm breath rush past. She suppressed a shiver.
Before he could notice, a high-pitched giggle broke through the air. Legolas jumped back from her as if burned, while Ziendriel quickly turned to find the source. When she did her face flushed with embarrassment.
Several servants were lined along one of the balconies of the front hall that overlooked the gardens, huge grins on their faces. How long they had been observing them, she was not sure.
Legolas chuckled. "We will find a new area tomorrow," he told her, waving to the servants. They waved back and went back to their chores. But not before throwing knowing glances back at the couple.
Ziendriel turned back to pick up the bow she had dropped during her surprise. "I hope I did not damage it," she mumbled, looking it over.
He took it from her and quickly inspected it. "It is alright, Ziendriel," he told her, "Do not worry." He handed it back to her, their fingers touching.
She looked up at him in surprise, wondering if he felt the same tingling in his fingers as she did in hers. Her eyes met his, but she found no recognition nor acknowledgement that he did so. Instead, she found him smiling at her and felt the flutters in her stomach once again. Her heart began to pound hard in her chest and she could feel the heat rushing to her face. A faint buzzing, as if coming from a long distance, began to ring in her ears, and she found she could nothing but stare her Legolas.
It dawned on her the cause of her ailments and her eyes widened in surprise. She had heard of this happening before but had never believed it; never believed it could happen to her.
She was in love.
END FLASHBACK
"This has turned out worse than I expected!" she now muttered to herself. She began to pace the garden walkway, slowly shaking her head. "I cannot be in love with Legolas!" she mumbled, "To be so would invite humiliation and heartbreak!"
She was not stupid; she knew that despite their friendship, the prince was accustomed to a level of beauty and grace that she did not possess. To even entertain the thought of him returning her love was to ask for his laughter. She shook her head once again, her lips pursed in a line of determination. "He must never discover the true feelings I have for him," she murmured, "I will not ruin our friendship over silly emotions on my part." She nodded then, as if sealing her conviction.
She seemed convinced of it one moment, then dubious the next, for she sat down on a nearby bench with a heavy sigh. "But, he does not make it easy!" she said, her thoughts wandering. She thought on they way he smiled at her, the light reflecting in his eyes, brightening his handsome face; the mischief on his face as he teased her; his fingers sometimes clasping around hers during their daily walks; the hugs that were now a part of their greetings to one another.
No, it would not be easy to suppress her feelings for the Prince of Mirkwood, but she was going to try her hardest to do so. Her sense of friendship and sanity depended on her effort.
As if to doubt her conviction, the sky told her so by rewarding her with a sudden rainstorm.
Legolas walked the length of the front entrance hallway, listening to the rain pour down. He loved the sound as well as the smell of water and earth, stimulating his already heightened senses. It was not unusual for the sudden rainfall, but he did not wish to be caught in one. When the Valar deemed it time for rain, it came hard and swift, with large droplets that immediately saturated anything and anyone it fell on.
A sudden sound caught his attention, turning his eyes to the stairs that led into the gardens. He watched as a figure, completely soaked with rain, appeared at the top of the stairs. He suddenly chuckled.
"Ziendriel?" he called, quickly walking over to her. He took in her dripping wet hair and her drenched dress with amusement. "Have you fallen into the river?" he asked, innocently.
She brushed back her hair from her face and stuck her tongue out at him. "I was caught unsuspecting by the rain," she shot back. She shivered, then attempted to wring some of the water from the skirt of her green dress.
"Swept up in some fantasy in your mind, no doubt!" he teased, smirking.
She whipped a sleeve of her dress at him, the long, wet material hitting him square in the face. "Not so smug now, hmm?" she asked, laughing at his discomfort of being splattered.
"I will get my revenge," he declared, taking a menacing step forward, making her step back. He suddenly stopped. "Some time," he added, grinning mischievously. He noticed her shiver as she rolled her eyes. "I will escort you back to your room to change," he offered, "You are shivering."
She shook her head. "There is no need, Legolas," she said, "I will be fine." She lifted the hem of her dress and began to walk away. "Please apologize to the servants for me!" she called over her shoulder, knowing the puddles of water she left behind.
Legolas laughed, then turned away, intent on continue his aimless walking through the halls. However, his thoughts over her safety overruled his actions and he found himself turning once again to watch her as she walked down the hall. He did not want her slipping in the puddles she made, nor tripping over her thoroughly soaked dressed.
He watched her retreating figure slowly walking, as if trying to minimize the mess she left behind. She stopped suddenly, then turned, as if realizing his eyes upon her. When her eyes met his, she waved.
Legolas brought his hand up to return the gesture, but found his hand frozen in mid-action. He did not realize he was doing so, for his thoughts dwelled on the maiden before him and the sight she presented . It was as if she stood in front of the sun, causing its beams to flare out behind her. Her smile was that of the brightest fire and her eyes were now the color of the greenest leaf in the forest. It was what his mind saw and he immediately understood what it meant, for it was not his mind that answered.
It was his heart.
I am in love with Ziendriel! He realized, his eyes growing wide with surprise, I am in love with Ziendriel! His mind reeled at the revelation and he suddenly felt lightheaded.
She saw this and a look of concern crossed her face. "Are you alright?" she called.
He nodded and dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "Fine," he called back, "Now go and change before you catch your death!"
She looked doubtful for a moment, then nodded. She waved once again before turning and disappearing down the hall.
Legolas suddenly frowned. "I am in love with Ziendriel," he repeated, as if to convince himself, though his heart screamed it at him, "This cannot be good."