AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanx to Maybe Tonight, inflight14, Selinde, Panda Perky,
Elvish Fairy, Sara, and Lady Greene for such encouraging reviews!! I feel
so loved.
On the fourth night of her journey with the fellowship, Nadena found herself consistently thinking sexual thoughts about Legolas. She enjoyed watching his muscular frame, a perfect vessel of grace, agility, and contained power. Remembering the battle earlier that day, she admired his skill with the bow and knife.
Though vampires were genetically stronger and faster than elves, she knew by observation that he matched her in both areas. His enhanced senses were slightly keener than even hers. She was admittedly jealous of his relationship with nature, and the sixth sense it provided him.
She watched the strong muscles of his neck longingly. 'Tis the lack of blood, she told herself. I simply lust after his blood. One can't deny, however, that he certainly is attractive.
Legolas turned to her sharply, and she worried for an irrational second that he knew of her thoughts. "The forests of Mirkwood," he told her. "My home." As he spoke, the endless stretch of snow-covered plains gave way to a rich forest of large, ancient trees.
Nadena saw that an iridescent light bounced between the leaves inside the inner crown of each tree. Just as she was about to ask, Aragon indicated them. "Lost souls of the Elvish Kingdom," he stated.
She looked at Legolas questioningly, and he answered her silent query. "When elves die, their souls live forever in Heaven. Yet, when their lives are not completed before death, meaning that they had unfinished business, or a total lack of love, they come here instead. They live their afterlife unfettered." His voice chimed with a tone of admiration and respect, and Nadena wondered subconsciously if his story would end here.
Suddenly, a soft sound rang out from the forest canopy. It was a piano! The sound echoed and grew from neighboring trees, and slowly the physical souls swam through the air toward them in swirling streams of shimmering blue light. Tentatively, as if they were not yet sure if the visitors were welcome, they came closer to the individuals.
Boromir, afraid to startle them, sat perfectly still with an uncomfortable facial expression. The hobbits played energetic, curious games with the spirits, taking turns darting from them and trying to capture them. Gimli swatted with annoyance at the few who dared come near him. Aragon seemed not to notice that three or four perched upon his shoulder.
Nadena at first shuddered from the cold touch of a soul. But presently, she found their caress soothing and encouraging, and she enjoyed the company of her personal chorus. She looked over to Legolas, surprised to see him sitting with his back to a tree, more than twenty spirits spiraling around and intertwining themselves with his hair and clothes. His skin glowed even more against their shine, which rebounded from the snow. His knees pulled to his chest, he set his chin upon his crossed arms, eyes closed, and appeared to be in a peaceful sleep.
No sooner had she thought this than he opened his eyes and, for the first time since their meeting, smiled at her. She coolly returned the smile, internally thanking the spirits around her for their acceptance, which seemed to make her acceptable in his eyes.
"Few know," he said with a sad but serene look in his eyes, "that no creature knew to sing before elves. These souls mourn their existence each night in song. Many come from all over Middle-Earth to hear their hymns." She lied back upon the cold snow, eyes closed, imagining herself far above the stars, as she basked in the elvish tune.
"Si na nitul er." ~This is my December.~ Their chorus rose against the depths of the black of night, indeterminable yet beautiful in Nadena's mind.
* * *
Legolas stood in a secluded piece of the forest, accompanied by more than a dozen spirits. They tugged at his legs and stroked his face playfully. As they extended their touch from his body to his mind, he opened his psyche to them without caution. They read his thoughts and pulled away from him.
The separate glittering spirals formed three-dimensional figures of blue light. First, a life-size replica of Legolas himself showed, bow taut with a trained arrow. Images of orcs and vampires appeared, and the battle of a few hours before was revisited. Legolas stood close by his clone, watching the scene with narrowed eyes.
The clone released the arrow, and a vampire died at his feet. The Legolas of reality cursed himself beneath his breath for allowing the soldier time to get so close. Another arrow shot into an orc with perfection. The elf-likeness shot an orc in the shoulder, but it didn't go down. It threw a dagger at him, which he easily avoided. He unleashed another arrow, and if fell lifelessly, as Legolas lectured his holographic image for its imperfect aim.
Behind him, Nadena cleared her throat to inform him she was watching. With flustered fervor, he waved his hand through the battle scene, dispersing the pictures into individual souls once more.
"'Tis inhospitable of you to stalk the steps of others uninvited," he stated through clenched teeth.
The girl watched his embarrassment with sparkling eyes. "I thought your skin to be pale. Now I see that your cheeks have a rouge tone."
He averted his eyes to the toes of his boots, saying, "Would you not prefer to pester the others?"
"No, no. None of them embarrass so easily."
He snapped his eyes up at her in anger, surprised to notice that she was unbound. "Who removed your chains?"
"Gandalf." She paused. "He suggested I bathe. But.he wants you to.supervise me."
"Now it is your face that grows red."
On the fourth night of her journey with the fellowship, Nadena found herself consistently thinking sexual thoughts about Legolas. She enjoyed watching his muscular frame, a perfect vessel of grace, agility, and contained power. Remembering the battle earlier that day, she admired his skill with the bow and knife.
Though vampires were genetically stronger and faster than elves, she knew by observation that he matched her in both areas. His enhanced senses were slightly keener than even hers. She was admittedly jealous of his relationship with nature, and the sixth sense it provided him.
She watched the strong muscles of his neck longingly. 'Tis the lack of blood, she told herself. I simply lust after his blood. One can't deny, however, that he certainly is attractive.
Legolas turned to her sharply, and she worried for an irrational second that he knew of her thoughts. "The forests of Mirkwood," he told her. "My home." As he spoke, the endless stretch of snow-covered plains gave way to a rich forest of large, ancient trees.
Nadena saw that an iridescent light bounced between the leaves inside the inner crown of each tree. Just as she was about to ask, Aragon indicated them. "Lost souls of the Elvish Kingdom," he stated.
She looked at Legolas questioningly, and he answered her silent query. "When elves die, their souls live forever in Heaven. Yet, when their lives are not completed before death, meaning that they had unfinished business, or a total lack of love, they come here instead. They live their afterlife unfettered." His voice chimed with a tone of admiration and respect, and Nadena wondered subconsciously if his story would end here.
Suddenly, a soft sound rang out from the forest canopy. It was a piano! The sound echoed and grew from neighboring trees, and slowly the physical souls swam through the air toward them in swirling streams of shimmering blue light. Tentatively, as if they were not yet sure if the visitors were welcome, they came closer to the individuals.
Boromir, afraid to startle them, sat perfectly still with an uncomfortable facial expression. The hobbits played energetic, curious games with the spirits, taking turns darting from them and trying to capture them. Gimli swatted with annoyance at the few who dared come near him. Aragon seemed not to notice that three or four perched upon his shoulder.
Nadena at first shuddered from the cold touch of a soul. But presently, she found their caress soothing and encouraging, and she enjoyed the company of her personal chorus. She looked over to Legolas, surprised to see him sitting with his back to a tree, more than twenty spirits spiraling around and intertwining themselves with his hair and clothes. His skin glowed even more against their shine, which rebounded from the snow. His knees pulled to his chest, he set his chin upon his crossed arms, eyes closed, and appeared to be in a peaceful sleep.
No sooner had she thought this than he opened his eyes and, for the first time since their meeting, smiled at her. She coolly returned the smile, internally thanking the spirits around her for their acceptance, which seemed to make her acceptable in his eyes.
"Few know," he said with a sad but serene look in his eyes, "that no creature knew to sing before elves. These souls mourn their existence each night in song. Many come from all over Middle-Earth to hear their hymns." She lied back upon the cold snow, eyes closed, imagining herself far above the stars, as she basked in the elvish tune.
"Si na nitul er." ~This is my December.~ Their chorus rose against the depths of the black of night, indeterminable yet beautiful in Nadena's mind.
* * *
Legolas stood in a secluded piece of the forest, accompanied by more than a dozen spirits. They tugged at his legs and stroked his face playfully. As they extended their touch from his body to his mind, he opened his psyche to them without caution. They read his thoughts and pulled away from him.
The separate glittering spirals formed three-dimensional figures of blue light. First, a life-size replica of Legolas himself showed, bow taut with a trained arrow. Images of orcs and vampires appeared, and the battle of a few hours before was revisited. Legolas stood close by his clone, watching the scene with narrowed eyes.
The clone released the arrow, and a vampire died at his feet. The Legolas of reality cursed himself beneath his breath for allowing the soldier time to get so close. Another arrow shot into an orc with perfection. The elf-likeness shot an orc in the shoulder, but it didn't go down. It threw a dagger at him, which he easily avoided. He unleashed another arrow, and if fell lifelessly, as Legolas lectured his holographic image for its imperfect aim.
Behind him, Nadena cleared her throat to inform him she was watching. With flustered fervor, he waved his hand through the battle scene, dispersing the pictures into individual souls once more.
"'Tis inhospitable of you to stalk the steps of others uninvited," he stated through clenched teeth.
The girl watched his embarrassment with sparkling eyes. "I thought your skin to be pale. Now I see that your cheeks have a rouge tone."
He averted his eyes to the toes of his boots, saying, "Would you not prefer to pester the others?"
"No, no. None of them embarrass so easily."
He snapped his eyes up at her in anger, surprised to notice that she was unbound. "Who removed your chains?"
"Gandalf." She paused. "He suggested I bathe. But.he wants you to.supervise me."
"Now it is your face that grows red."