II
Legolas wasn't spying; he'd just been sitting up in the tree early that morning since he was unable to sleep, and then Faramir had come along below him and Legolas hadn't wanted to move. Faramir was practising shooting, and getting quite frustrated, and Legolas acknowledged that although Faramir was quite good, he wasn't as good as an elf. Hardly surprising really, Legolas considered, and wondered if he should take advantage of this opportunity to get to know the man.
If he wasn't taken by surprise, Legolas was sure he wouldn't become shy again. He could just hop down secretly, act as if he had just arrived and ask if he could join in. It was simple enough. Legolas took a deep breath, and prepared to act out his plan.
Unfortunately, Faramir turned round at a crucial moment, and Legolas' graceful jump turned into a clumsy fall. He quickly got to his feet, forcing himself not to blush and said, "Hello, I was just sitting up in the tree when you came along. I hope you don't think I was spying or anything."
"Of course not." Faramir forced himself to smile politely, although he was secretly horrified at the idea of the elf having seen his attempts at shooting.
"Can I join you in your shooting practice?" the elf continued, and Faramir desperately tried to think of an excuse. Not being able to think of anything that didn't sound rude, he gave in.
"If you wish to."
"Thank you. Why don't you go first?"
Faramir hesitated but went ahead anyway. He raised the bow again, but found it wasn't easy to concentrate with the archer beside him. He took a deep breath.
"You should position your fingers, like so." Legolas stepped forward and carefully moved Faramir's hot fingers along the bow. "And hold it a little lower. No, not like that."
Faramir desperately tried to follow instructions but was finding it increasingly difficult. And then he felt the elf move behind him and lean close, his arms around Faramir and his hands on top of his own.
"That's it, hold it there," the elf spoke, and Faramir could feel his warm breath on his neck. He gave up trying to shoot well, and just let his arms work automatically. To his surprise, the arrow hit the target, and the elf stepped back and gave a round of applause.
Faramir smiled weakly.
***** That small moment replayed itself over and over again in Faramir's mind that day. When he returned home, he found himself staring at the walls, deep in thought and memory. It was almost as if the situations were reversed, he thought. Yesterday Legolas had been the nervous one, and now it was he. But what was the need for nervousness at all?
He suddenly felt nimble arms encircle his waist, a nuzzling at his shoulder, and was reminded all too quickly of the way that Legolas had held him like that, had been pressed against him. But this wasn't Legolas, this was. Eowyn.
He turned around sharply, shaking her off, and glared at her. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"
Eowyn looked surprised and hurt, and moved back. "I'm sorry."
"No, I'm sorry," Faramir said quickly, reaching out to hug her. "I'm just tired. I didn't mean to take it out on you."
Eowyn seemed content with this, and smiled happily in his arms.
*****
"You seem quiet," Gimli commented.
Legolas just shrugged. "Do I?"
Gimli frowned and called over to the barman. "I think my friend needs another drink."
A mug of ale was placed upon the counter in front of Legolas, and the elf sighed. "I don't really want any, thankyou."
"What's wrong with you? I thought I'd persuaded you to like proper drink." Gimli looked bemused.
"I just. don't feel like it today."
"You're not. in love are you?" Gimli sniggered.
"I'll be back in a minute. Just want some air." Legolas stood up and was out of the door before he even realised he'd done it. Again.
"That's the second time in two days he's done that!" Gimli announced to the barman, and pulled Legolas' ale towards him.
*****
What if he were in love with Faramir, Legolas contemplated. But surely it was impossible for a man to love another man. There was no logic behind it; it didn't fit in with biology. But love wasn't about logic, was it? He must be crazy, or perhaps it was the drink. Although, he'd been sober this morning and he'd still felt like this.
Then it all became clear in his mind. He'd had some drink last night, he'd been tipsy, got shy for no reason when Faramir looked at him. That had been on his mind this morning and that was why he'd felt uncomfortable in Faramir's presence. He needed to think clearly for a change.
Evidently he felt strong, brotherly love for Faramir, even though he didn't know the man well enough yet. He could just see what fine friends they'll be, once he stopped all this silly nervousness. That's all there was to it.
Legolas felt relieved. Suddenly images filled his mind, Faramir's lips on his, then travelling down his jaw, his neck, his chest, his. Legolas quickly emptied his mind and headed back into the inn for more drink.
Legolas wasn't spying; he'd just been sitting up in the tree early that morning since he was unable to sleep, and then Faramir had come along below him and Legolas hadn't wanted to move. Faramir was practising shooting, and getting quite frustrated, and Legolas acknowledged that although Faramir was quite good, he wasn't as good as an elf. Hardly surprising really, Legolas considered, and wondered if he should take advantage of this opportunity to get to know the man.
If he wasn't taken by surprise, Legolas was sure he wouldn't become shy again. He could just hop down secretly, act as if he had just arrived and ask if he could join in. It was simple enough. Legolas took a deep breath, and prepared to act out his plan.
Unfortunately, Faramir turned round at a crucial moment, and Legolas' graceful jump turned into a clumsy fall. He quickly got to his feet, forcing himself not to blush and said, "Hello, I was just sitting up in the tree when you came along. I hope you don't think I was spying or anything."
"Of course not." Faramir forced himself to smile politely, although he was secretly horrified at the idea of the elf having seen his attempts at shooting.
"Can I join you in your shooting practice?" the elf continued, and Faramir desperately tried to think of an excuse. Not being able to think of anything that didn't sound rude, he gave in.
"If you wish to."
"Thank you. Why don't you go first?"
Faramir hesitated but went ahead anyway. He raised the bow again, but found it wasn't easy to concentrate with the archer beside him. He took a deep breath.
"You should position your fingers, like so." Legolas stepped forward and carefully moved Faramir's hot fingers along the bow. "And hold it a little lower. No, not like that."
Faramir desperately tried to follow instructions but was finding it increasingly difficult. And then he felt the elf move behind him and lean close, his arms around Faramir and his hands on top of his own.
"That's it, hold it there," the elf spoke, and Faramir could feel his warm breath on his neck. He gave up trying to shoot well, and just let his arms work automatically. To his surprise, the arrow hit the target, and the elf stepped back and gave a round of applause.
Faramir smiled weakly.
***** That small moment replayed itself over and over again in Faramir's mind that day. When he returned home, he found himself staring at the walls, deep in thought and memory. It was almost as if the situations were reversed, he thought. Yesterday Legolas had been the nervous one, and now it was he. But what was the need for nervousness at all?
He suddenly felt nimble arms encircle his waist, a nuzzling at his shoulder, and was reminded all too quickly of the way that Legolas had held him like that, had been pressed against him. But this wasn't Legolas, this was. Eowyn.
He turned around sharply, shaking her off, and glared at her. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"
Eowyn looked surprised and hurt, and moved back. "I'm sorry."
"No, I'm sorry," Faramir said quickly, reaching out to hug her. "I'm just tired. I didn't mean to take it out on you."
Eowyn seemed content with this, and smiled happily in his arms.
*****
"You seem quiet," Gimli commented.
Legolas just shrugged. "Do I?"
Gimli frowned and called over to the barman. "I think my friend needs another drink."
A mug of ale was placed upon the counter in front of Legolas, and the elf sighed. "I don't really want any, thankyou."
"What's wrong with you? I thought I'd persuaded you to like proper drink." Gimli looked bemused.
"I just. don't feel like it today."
"You're not. in love are you?" Gimli sniggered.
"I'll be back in a minute. Just want some air." Legolas stood up and was out of the door before he even realised he'd done it. Again.
"That's the second time in two days he's done that!" Gimli announced to the barman, and pulled Legolas' ale towards him.
*****
What if he were in love with Faramir, Legolas contemplated. But surely it was impossible for a man to love another man. There was no logic behind it; it didn't fit in with biology. But love wasn't about logic, was it? He must be crazy, or perhaps it was the drink. Although, he'd been sober this morning and he'd still felt like this.
Then it all became clear in his mind. He'd had some drink last night, he'd been tipsy, got shy for no reason when Faramir looked at him. That had been on his mind this morning and that was why he'd felt uncomfortable in Faramir's presence. He needed to think clearly for a change.
Evidently he felt strong, brotherly love for Faramir, even though he didn't know the man well enough yet. He could just see what fine friends they'll be, once he stopped all this silly nervousness. That's all there was to it.
Legolas felt relieved. Suddenly images filled his mind, Faramir's lips on his, then travelling down his jaw, his neck, his chest, his. Legolas quickly emptied his mind and headed back into the inn for more drink.
