The game is set. The blades are drawn. It is perhaps, as old as time itself – this duel between man and woman. And certainly will prevail for a long time to come.
Legolas tapped his finger on his perfect lips. 'How to proceed?' he thought in deep concentration. The art of seduction was not one he converted to too often. For one thing, his usual affairs did not require such skills. Secondly, he was not fond of toying with anyone – least of all, humans, who were far more fragile and sensitive than his own kind. Most of the time, Legolas felt tempted to perceive them as mere children. Thirdly...very seldom did he ever actually have to pursue a woman. Women mostly pursued him. As a matter of fact, now that he thought about it, with the exception of Saiko, a Japanese woman whom he had met in the 18th century and was overly infatuated with for some time, his relationships with mortal women had been, for the most part, short lived and on his behalf, disappointing.
Nevertheless, Legolas was old and wise. He had been around humans long enough. And like all elves, he was a rather keen observer. He had read and explored almost every aspect of their psyche and their culture.
Finally, deciding that her attitude and her reactions should set the pace, he dressed in his black turtleneck sweater and loose fitting jeans, pulled on his boots and tied his long hair in a loose ponytail. A walk to her room followed. He knocked on the door, but no sound came.
His search revealed soon enough that Irulan was in the library. And alone. The elf hesitated for a moment at the threshold, taking in her stance by the bookshelf, slightly leaning on it, a book in her hand, her long hair spilling over her shoulders like a dark river, covering most of her visage.
Irulan was not an exceptionally beautiful woman in human standards. But he could not deny that there was something different about her. An attractiveness that was perhaps greatly due to the fact that she was not trying to be attractive.
Men were feeble and impatient. They tended to fall for women who had a feminine air to them. Who had grace and beauty and enchantment. And that was all nice and good. Unless it was at the expense of other qualities. Such as intellect, tolerance, kindness. Such as courage, determination and strength of will. Elves had enough time to discover that, though for short-lived affairs and fleeting infatuations the former kind of woman might be more appealing, in the long run what really mattered was none of those features, but how much of a friend and support the partner is. Attraction was good. But friendship was lasting. Beauty was striking. But sharing was durable.
And standing there in the soft glow of the day, Legolas became aware that Irulan was one of those women one could share a lifetime with. Not a wild, unforgettable, extraordinary week in some foreign land. But years. Not a romantic, sensual night with a stranger. But decades. Most probably not too many men would ever discover how precious and rare a person she was. They would walk past her, seeing the gorgeous blonde who would mean nothing in a matter of months. They would glance past her, perceiving the sleek brunette who had no humane virtues but a fantastic body.
Eager to break from his own daze, he cleared his throat and she blinked and turned around to look at him. They locked eyes for a moment, both too far gone and lost in their own thoughts to wake up right away. Then the elf smiled and Irulan raised her eyebrows to that, slightly straightening up. "Good day," he said softly, his eyes locked to hers.
"Good day," she said in return, a little uneasy.
He took a gentle breath and walked in leisurely, glancing at his surroundings. "How have you been?"
Irulan, now overly surprised, straightened further and watched his approach. "Fine," she said absent-mindedly. Then, as the silence between them continued, she added "And you?"
Legolas smiled, his face cast downward. "I came to apologize," was his reply as he halted at a comfortable distance, locking eyes with her once more.
"What for?" was her confused and soft question.
He did not answer right away, but inspected her for a moment. "It was not my intention to offend neither you nor your kind."
"Oh," she said and closed the book dismissively. "Do not dwell on it." She bit her lower lip and added "To be honest with you, I don't know which one of us was wrong, anymore."
He smiled broader to that. "Perhaps we were both right?"
"Or both wrong," she said with a wry smile herself.
Several moments of silence passed. Legolas waited. For what, he did not know. This was not what he had had in mind. In the warm and golden silence of the library, he felt the loss of interest for all that he had planned. All of a sudden it seemed a better idea to stay and to talk. About life. About time. About the past and the future.
"Is that why you came?" Irulan said a little incredulously, and broke his daze. And thankfully that reminded him that he had a job to do. He briefly looked away once more to clear his mind, and when his gaze returned to her, a colder side of him had assumed control.
"Not entirely," was his smooth reply. "I mean to go to the city for lunch. Perhaps you would like to join me?" The disbelief and shock on her face was evident enough to invoke feelings of superiority and victory in him.
"Well..." stammered Irulan, not sure how to react and caught quite off-guard at this sudden turn of events, "Well..."
"Please accept," he broke in, knowing that it was always an advantage to act faster, "I know a place that has some of the finest salads in the world." Irulan blinked in confusion and played a little with the book in her grip. To go to lunch with Legolas was...discomforting. Before their rather unkind encounters, it would have been a heavenly dream. But now it was a little suspicious. "Is my appearance that dangerous?" he spoke with a beguiling smile.
"Dangerous?! No, no," was her hasty reply before she was cut off:
"I trust that you will accept, then?"
Another silence hung between them. Though this time Irulan was aware that she could not decline any further. That would only make her look ridiculous and afraid. And she was neither. She took a deep breath and placed the book back on the shelf. Giving him one last dubious glance, said: "Why not? It will be a pleasure, Lord Greenleaf."
"Legolas," he corrected gently, then turned on his heels to guide her out of the library and to the garage. "Let us go, then. The ride is almost an hour."
She nodded, still more than a little confused about the happening and began to follow him in silence. Her gaze swept over his back, taking in his expensive and yet casual clothing, his silver hair, tied into a lose pony tail. She had seen many captivating men, yes, but they were incomparable to Legolas. She tried to imagine him in the attire of an elf. With bow and quiver. In his war armor, on a horse, or swinging his blades. It was not her first attempt to do so. No doubt that he must have looked amazing back then, too.
A sense of frustration came over her. Already she was getting soft! Just because His Grace had spoken a few kind –or rather, neutral- words to her, she was melting! Irulan took a deep breath and looked away, determined not to reach hasty conclusions and be disappointed in the end, once more. 'He is still irritating as Hell!' she told herself stiffly and did not gaze back at him again.
They arrived at the garage and it took some willpower on her behalf not to gape at the dozens of cars and motorcycles distributed in the big space, shining in their newly polished beauty. She did not know much about cars, but one did not need to be an expert to see that these were probably incredibly expensive samples. It did not surprise her. After all, though they were not greedy in such matters, with so much time and skill on their hands most elves naturally ended up being incredibly rich. And they still liked beauty in every fashion and form. They liked serene, elegant and balanced lives. They liked convenient, clean and beautiful surroundings. This, of course, required money. However, unlike humans, they saw money only as a means to an end - the means to offer them such an atmosphere. And they used it graciously for that purpose.
Legolas, finally having arrived by his black jaguar, opened the door for her. She stopped short of running into it. The courtesy of elves was not a new or surprising thing to her – they were all terribly well mannered. Nevertheless, coming from Legolas, it only served to increase her discomfort. She gave him one last suspicious look, then glided to sit on the cream colored leather seat. The elf smiled despite himself, then quickly erased it from his face and proceeded to walk around and take his own seat.
He started the engine and set the car into motion, slowly gliding out of the garage into a freshly washed bright autumn day. After several minutes, feeling awkward, Irulan decided to chat a little. The tenseness was ridiculous for people at their age. Not to mention at HIS age. Quickly preventing another string of poisonous comments about him, she said "Nice car," with a tinge disinterest. No doubt that the car itself was very comfortable, but Irulan was very aware that her current comfort had more to do with his skills. Legolas drove very...elvish. Fast but smooth – daring but fluid. It was something that came not only with immense practice, but also with their very nature.
"It is," was his plain answer. He did not delve into the topic or attempt to proceed to another one, so she observed the passing scenery for a while. "Tell me about yourself," he said suddenly and once again took her by surprise. Legolas gave her a brief and blank gaze, then returned to his driving.
"You go right for the target, don't you?" she said slowly, with a tinge of amazement.
"Yes. I am a man of purpose," was his matter-of-fact statement.
"And what purpose might that be?" Irulan asked, shifting slightly on her seat to see him better.
"To know more about you."
Irulan stared at him for a few more moments. Then, annoyed at staring so and being downright baffled, she cleared her throat and looked ahead, again. "I have nothing interesting to tell."
"Is that not for me to decide?"
She took a slow, deep breath and reminded herself of virtues like patience and kindness. Why was it that he rubbed her the wrong way, no matter how rational his words? "I am certain that your men can prepare a folder about my life," she said dryly.
Legolas, both amazed and frustrated at having such a difficult time with a woman, when all his life they had been incredibly easy, gave her a long gaze. "I prefer YOU to tell me."
"Oh so you PREFER," said Irulan with mock surprise, rolling the word on her tongue. Then, realizing that she was acting too childish for her own standards, swallowed softly and added "What do you wish to know?"
He shrugged gracefully, his eyes fixed on the road. "Where do you live?"
"Right now, New York."
He wrinkled his nose and she gave him a wide-eyed look. "New York is an amazing city!" she said a little defensive. "I love it there."
"I do not recall saying anything in ill favor of it."
"Well you...you looked like you would."
He turned and fixed her with that irritating blank look. "Too crowded for my taste," was his late comment. "Work?"
The woman almost shook her head at his way of conversation that was more like questioning than a dialogue. "I write for a newspaper." That kind of question deserved that kind of answer!
And so it went, with Legolas asking and prodding in that arrogant, distant manner of his and Irulan replying curtly and dryly, trying her best to keep the conversation at a friendly platform. They had not started off too well, but it was foolish to insist on the enmity. Perhaps it was simply beyond him to be kinder or softer. Perhaps this was all that he could muster, all that was left in the name of sweetness in him. She would not expect or ask for further. After all, if she wanted to be accepted for the person that she was, he had the same right, too.
The man, on the other hand, was experiencing immense pleasure at prodding her so. Not only did he like the hunt, but he also liked her obvious struggle to construct a respectful and yet comfortable interaction with him. She was rather easy to read – her emotions were swiftly displayed on her tone and her stance and it was not a great challenge to interpret them. He also found her very responsive – noting the way she immediately seemed to cool in demeanor at a slightly private question, or the way she would unconsciously stiffen at a too daring remark. A slight anger would pass through her at these times, perhaps not visible to any other and less observant eye. Although he felt annoyed by the fact, he could not deny that she was a rather attractive woman when anger was emanating from her.
Legolas' experience with women is a matter too long to be recited here. But, if a summary is necessary to shed a little more light on his relationship with Irulan, we can say that in his first centuries, he had avoided mortal women as if avoiding a plague. He had been more elf then, and a tentative and sensitive side of him had prevented him from seeking a partner of the human kind. They were interesting to him. Different. And therefore, very attractive. But also swift and harsh.
After a prolonged term of loneliness and seldom, short-lived affairs with elven females –a few centuries, to be exact- having changed in nature and having grown less expectant of an affair, he had given the mortal kind a place in his heart.
And that had been a mistake.
For not only did it have an effect of cold splash of water on the face for his fine and rather naive psyche, but it was also a devastating realization of why mortals and immortals were not meant to be. He had found excitement and a childish ignorance in them. He had found passion and naivety. Though they failed to speak to his heart or his mind, they spoke to his body and his spirit. And that was good. For a while. Until age set in and he was forced to part from them, one by one, before they would discover his true identity. And the pain of those partings seemed too high a price to pay.
More centuries passed. Legolas grew bitter and tired. The world around him changed into a ruthless and shallow place. Gone was the romance of his times or of the times that followed it. Relationships became a matter of pleasure only. Minds rarely dueled. Hearts never clashed. Spirits hardly touched. He came to accept that – though it took him long enough to do so. And after that acceptance, gone was the pain. No more conscience. No more high hopes of shared love and lifetimes. No more expectation of a full union. He came to terms with the fact that no woman would touch his heart to the fullest. That at his age and at this point, he was beyond the reach of any mortal woman. And that the only thing left to share with them was the physical pleasure and the warmth of a close body. True, some challenged his mind and that was very tempting. But only rarely did they speak to his heart. Some challenged his heart, but failed to fuel his mind. Some impressed him for this or that reason, but proved to be shallow in many other things upon closer inspection. Some just stroke him like lightning with their charm and beauty, but had many hidden ugly flaws that turned off his appetite.
In short, Legolas had, no doubt in such a long time, gained quite a bit of experience with the female gender and courted them for various reasons uncountable times. But they had failed to become an important part of his life - promising much, but nothing really essential. He admired, respected and loved women. But, to put it plain and short, he had never really fallen in love with a woman. Infatuated? Yes. Grown to like desperately? Definitely. Felt longing, passion, need? Most certainly. But not love.
And sitting here in his car, talking with Irulan, he had earnestly no such illusions about him and her. For he had lost belief and hope in love. Or rather, that he, himself would be subject to it. What he was aware, though, was the pull and attraction he was feeling for her. And the desire of the hunt that was blooming in him.
For in all his years on this earth –which were many- never had a woman disliked him this much. Or had dared to slap her dislike to his face like this. Legolas was well aware of his looks, his wealth, his status, along with his attractiveness, his aura and his charm. To this day, they had only been to his favor.
Not with Irulan. For none of those seemed to have the slightest effect on her. Mostly women, impressed by him to a degree of awe and adoration, only cowered at his arrogance or tried their best to gain his liking. Not Irulan. She seemed very disinterested in his like or dislike of her.
"Lover?" he said suddenly, as the first settlements closer to the city began to come into view.
Irulan pursed her lips and tried to look as blank as possible. There was no way on earth she was telling this elf that she had no boyfriend! "Yes," she said matter-of-factly. And turning to look at him, added "David. He is an incredible man. All that I would expect, and more. He loves me very much and well, I love him more! We are soon be betrothed and…" Realizing that, in an attempt to lie, she had over-done the explanation, she broke off and fixed her gaze ahead, once more.
Legolas smiled deftly. He was only as clever and as well-observing as any elf could be and knew immediately that for her to make so much explanation could only mean that things were not going too well between her and this David. "Really?" was his smooth reply, a deliberate tinge of disbelief in it. Irulan gave him a glare. "You have stayed with us for two days now…," he continued, shifting gears and slowing down as they entered the wider city streets, "…and yet I do not recall anyone calling and asking for you." When she just stared back with awe, he continued leisurely: "I would certainly call my soon-to-be-betrothed several times a day."
It took all her willpower to keep her mouth from dropping open. Though his servants picked up the phone calls, it was very probable and easy for Legolas to know or to find out who was called by whom. "We talk on my cell phone," she said tersely.
He have her bag a pointed look and Irulan just wanted to strangle him. "Your batteries ran out, I presume."
'What an unbelievable, damnable, horrible elf is THIS?!' she thought, feeling both fury and yet fear at his cunningness. Thankfully her façade reflected none of that and her tone was cool to the ear. "He is busy right now. Today, I mean. He is...in a...a meeting."
"Oh," was his soft reply, as he turned to look out the window on his right and upon seeing the deft smile forming on his lips, the temptation to strangle him only grew stronger.
They did not speak again until they arrived at their destination. Legolas delivered the keys to an eager valet while Irulan shifted on her feet with discomfort, looking up to the evidently expensive restaurant. The elf halted at the door for her to enter first and then followed and barely moments later they were greeted with enthusiasm by the staff who knew him well. His 'usual' table was ready for him in moments and they were escorted to a beautiful garden with the tables placed rather apart to give the customers privacy. Arriving at a table under a willow tree, they were seated and the waiters left immediately, by the looks of it, already knowing what to prepare.
Irulan, amazed to find such a place in the middle of a rather crowded and metropolitan city, looked around for a while. "It is beautiful indeed," she said with awe, turning to find Legolas inspecting her with a penetrating gaze.
"I am glad that you liked it," was his soft reply, accompanied by the ghost of a smile. A little nervous about the intensity of his look, she began to play with her wine glass. The elf observed her for a while. In his mind, he was encircling his prey with silent steps. He remained a good distance away from it. Smelling it. Listening to it. Observing it. Perhaps it was time to nudge it a little. To see how and to what degree it would react.
Though it was a daring move, he decided that it was not too early to take another step. In fact, he was more the cautious type, and given the chance, would prolong the seduction – not just to secure victory, but also to enjoy the pleasure of it. But unfortunately in this case, he had only several days before the meeting, and he needed to use the time wisely to reach his objective.
Irulan was so engulfed in her own thoughts, she didn't even flinch at the touch of his finger on her hand that was lying on the table between them. She couldn't find the strength to look up immediately, her eyes glued to the lazy circle it was drawing on the back of her hand. The move was so unexpected that she failed to snatch it back, and only several moments later managed to raise her eyes. Her gaze collided with his and he fixed it, an amused determination on his handsome features.
A moment passed. Then another. His finger was still drawing that damn circle on her hand and Irulan could swear that it was a spell. In response she only swallowed softly and unable to move, barely breathed. "Tell me about David," was his soft question.
"What about him?" she whispered, an incredible confusion settling down on her mind like a thick fog. Why was he acting so strange? So…intimate? Out of nowhere, too!
He smiled an incredible smile, twinkles in his eyes. "Somehow, Lady Irulan, he does not strike me as your type," he said idly.
"My type?" was her astonished reply. He leaned further on the table, his eyes locked to hers as his fingers began a soft, lazy tracing of her own. If she didn't know better, she would say that he was trying to seduce her. But for HIM to act like this...and towards HER...could only be a sign of…mocking, perhaps? Nevertheless, she failed to tear her gaze away when he decided to continue. "Your type," he said with a low voice, and she swallowed at the tone of it, "would be...someone with presence. And character." His smile grew wider as Irulan tilted back to keep a distance that would allow her to breathe. "A strong man. Someone you can respect. Someone you can depend on."
"Well..." she said after too long a silence, congratulating herself on the fact that she did not stammer, "David IS like that. But he is also kind and gentle. Which makes him...perfect." With that, she finally managed to slowly draw her hand back and fold it with the other one on her lap.
Legolas looked at her for a moment, no indication of any discomfort on his behalf. "Perfect, is he?" He leaned back on his chair, his clear blue gaze still fixed on her. "But...he let you come out here alone. Even though it is your first trip. Even though you would be with strangers. And...he did not call."
"He DID call," she said, angry at herself for giving him an explanation of this sort. "And I have no intention to tell him that I am coming to a meeting like THIS!"
"Well, if you can not trust to tell him," was the reply, accompanied by a sly smile, "he can not be that perfect, now, can he?" She gave him a hard stare and he smiled back in amusement, satisfied with her lack of response. "He can not give you what you need," he added with a low tone, never ceasing his observation of her, "But *I* can."
Irulan looked at him for a long time, her expression dampening and gaining a blankness with each passing moment. The anger that seemed to have sparked at his words slowly died before his eyes, giving way to a frosty composure. "Let me tell you one thing, Lord Legolas," she said then, her voice low and a little shaky. If anything, his smile only grew broader at her words. She was intimidated! How fragile humans were underneath their thick shell! "I have no intentions of intimacy with you!" She slightly pushed her chin up and clenching her jaw, waited for his response. Which he prolonged, just to increase her intimidation.
"You have no intentions," he murmured at last. Then swiftly leaned forward to conclude: "Are you afraid?"
"More like...rational. And sane. And mature," she snorted.
"And I am none of those?"
A hard look landed on him. And a part of him felt simply mesmerized by it. By her refusal. Her courage. "I do not care what you are," she seethed. "I have no interest in you."
"Is that so?" the man said slowly, taking in her features. "Perhaps I can change your mind?"
"How can you even...suggest such a thing when I told you that I have someone in my life?!"
"I am not naive, Irulan," he said then, not aware that he had used her first name only. "Far from it. Too many seasons I spent in the company of your kind. I know when one is in love. Or when one is bonded. Or when one's heart is under claim. You are none of those."
Her mouth fell open. "You...you..." she stammered, her eyes fixed on his incredibly handsome face that had assumed one of those blank expressions again. "All these years...and you learned NOTHING!"
"Tell me what it is you desire," he continued, no trace of offense in his voice. "What is it that you want? I am certain that I can give it."
"W-what?" was her question, her stupefied state evident in it.
He leaned towards her again and she tilted back, though a considerably big table stood between them. "Passion?" He said, narrowing his eyes and looking at her more intensely – if such a thing was possible. "Peace of mind? Respect?" He smiled again and if he was attractive without it, with a smile he was divine. "Do you want to be adored, Irulan? Do you want to be flattered? Spoiled? Taken care of? Do you want to be excited and surprised?" A moment of silence set in as she stared back in disbelief. "I can do all that. More and better than any Man. And seldom do I offer it to anyone. Yet, all you have to do, is ask."
Legolas waited in patience with the hunting skills no mortal man would ever manage to accumulate. He encircled his prey, moving closer yet, never taking his eyes off her. Would she take the bait? Most certainly she would. They all did.
It was the shock of the century when Irulan suddenly rose so fast that her chair tipped and fell over behind her. Her eyes spoke of dark, murderous fury. She breathed heavily, a slight tremble traveling through her figure as the elf watched her with silent amazement.
"What I want, you are incapable of giving!" she blistered after a long moment of staring during which her eyes had bored holes into him. Actually she wanted to say more. Much more. But shocked beyond her wits and shaking with both fury and alarm, unfortunately that was all she managed to choke out. They locked eyes for what seemed like eternity as she saw something fluttering in his eyes. Though she was in no state to read it. And then, by some divine miracle, she managed to turn around and leave, barely avoiding a collision with the waiter, who was bringing in the salad dishes.
The elf sat there for a long time, unaware of the food or the surroundings. Which was a very unusual thing for him. In his mind, the conversation played over and over again and his sharp intellect disintegrated it, pieced it together, plastered it, then broke it apart again. An inexplicable and almost childish enthusiasm and excitement was tormenting his heart and if not for his automatic cool control, he would no doubt be carried away by its force.
None of us can understand his state completely. For none of us have lived thousands of years. Long enough to explore every miniscule aspect of the meaning of boredom. Long enough to see the common base coating underneath all the colors. Long enough to feel frustration of loneliness giving in to anger, then to the loss of faith, then anger again, and later to redemption, only to be replaced with frustration once more. It was not love he was feeling. Nowhere near that. Not yet, anyway. He was swept away with the excitement of encountering something new. And for someone with his age, that is A LOT.
Someone, for the first time ever, had refused him! Absolutely and without a single doubt. She had even walked away from him! Unconsciously his look glided to the chair that had been picked up by the waiter. He had dangled the bait and the prey had just snorted and dashed away into the woods.
It was pure bliss. A divine gift. It was simply fantastic. For the sole reason that it was completely unexpected.
He looked into the garden again as a breeze came up and ruffled the tree branches above him. Today was a chilly autumn day and no one else was in the garden. He inhaled the vibrant and humid air, closing his eyes. If he but tried hard enough, he could imagine himself back in Mirkwood. On some solitary hunting trip. If he but concentrated hard enough, he could feel the cool air, the soft humidity of the denser parts of the forest. He could smell the fresh earth and feel its softness underneath his fingers as he gently touched the track of his prey, his hand gliding over the imprint with a tender caress.
He opened his eyes again, pushing away the memory. That damnable longing again! Shadows of the past seemed to be Irulan's cloak, fluttering in a dark mass around her wherever she went. It was like a perfume she seemed to be very fond of wearing. No matter how real, Mirkwood was lost to him now. For all eternity. One would think that at his age, it would be easier to say goodbye! 'Alas, it is as hard as the very first day!' he thought bitterly. Against all his control, the image of the White Ship floating away in the mist reached out to him and Legolas froze in silent fear of its continuance. Thankfully not today. Today it vanished as swiftly as it came, like an unwelcome guest and he dared a breath of relief.
A moment later he motioned the waiter to bring in the check. He had not touched his food or his wine, and he was in no state to eat. His stomach was too alert to digest food. There was a hunt to attend to and he had no intentions of returning home empty-handed.
Meanwhile a fuming Irulan walked and walked and stomped and walked again in the city streets, not seeing anything around her. She, too, was going through intense emotions, but far different ones than Legolas was. 'How DARE he?!' she thought, her stride unconsciously becoming larger. 'Who the hell does he think he is?!' Alright, so he was Legolas. THE elf. The legend. And that was a lot. But still! 'And who does he think *I* am? How on earth can he feel the liberty to make such a move on me?! Did I encourage him in any fashion? NO! I did nothing but offend him and dislike him. And...and...LOOK at the guy! Some nerve he has!'
She walked and walked, and effectively lost her way. Then found it again, and lost it once more. Finally she called a car rental company and they found her, and she drove back with them to fill in a rental form. Upon discovering that she was staying as a guest of Heath Greenleaf, they were very impressed and asked several questions of him and her. But Irulan only glared coldly, then grabbed the map and her car keys and left the premises as fast as she could.
On her way back to the castle, she suddenly slowed the car down and pulled over. Several moments passed as she did not turn off the ignition, looking out the windshield into the green pasture. 'What now?' she thought, biting her lower lip. Obviously she would have to return to the castle. And why the heck not? HE was the one who should be embarrassed, not herself! She pushed up her chin in defiance. 'He came onto me. I refused. So...I am perfectly fine.' As a matter of fact, most probably the elf would be so ashamed of her refusal that he would end up shoving this matter under the carpet and pretend it never happened.
A smile crawled up her lips at that realization. Yes, definitely! Legolas the Great could certainly not afford such a failure! His Mighty Majesty would, no doubt, act like nothing happened. He would also fear any revelations on her behalf. Which was good, because that would give her an advantage over him. Yes! Every time he even dared to look funny at her, she would just raise her eyebrows in a meaningful fashion and he would get the message. The message being "Stop right now or I'll tell everyone about your pathetic adventure!"
In a way, she should be glad it happened. Not only did it open her eyes to the true nature of this supposedly legendary elf, but it also gave her power over him. And that was always a good thing.
Slowly she put the car into motion again and began her ride towards the castle. Along the way she began to hum a cheerful melody, her spirits already changing for the better. Irulan was a woman of the times. She had an amazing amount of flexibility which allowed her to bounce back from the hardest surfaces. The impact was heavy, yes, but as soon as the contact was lost, the pain would go down drastically and the healing was always swifter with each time.
Though in this case, she was VERY mistaken in her analysis.
