And here we continue. The journey of how strong can become weak; how ice can become fire; how need can become longing. Or rather, my version of it.
All the questions will be answered in due time. I will try to answer some by personal mails when I can. Cause I don't want to bore everyone with needlessly long author notes.
For everyone who has supported me so kindly to his point – thank you. For everyone who has reviewed and criticized – I am grateful, to say the least. For everyone who is not bored by long and slow chapters – we have that in common! To everyone who will ask for updates – give me a week and your wish shall come true.
Ah…..Rome in autumn! To quote Legolas in The Glass Sandal….. "Elf or Man, hobbit or dwarf – the heart rules over us all."
When they arrived at the hotel, Legolas was overly upset and Irulan was miraculously better, once again having regained her spirits sooner than most. He avoided speaking with her, or even looking at her, and normally that should be a good thing. But currently she thought it a bit odd. Once more she felt concern that he felt dislike for her. Not to mention, frustration with the realization that it actually mattered! 'I am getting way too soft,' she thought in dismay. It did nothing to change her sentiments.
The elf, on the other hand, only barely having survived the bombardment of all those sharp sentiments and realizations, was still in a daze from the effect. And along with those, felt a great loss of self-confidence at the recent lack of control he had performed. Not only had he felt jealous -and that was bad enough- he had even felt it to a degree that had forced him to unbelievably rude actions. Jealousy was not new to him. Though seldom and certainly with much less rage, he had experienced it before. But the intensity of it and the way he had acted with the anger of it was completely new. Not to mention, a disgrace to the elf that he was. As any other elf would, he felt a deep sinful regret to have breached the precious process of courting. Forget about courting, he had acted downright terrible!
Eager to isolate himself and gain some privacy to explore his thoughts and sentiments to the fullest, he followed the hotel manager (who had personally wished to welcome Heath Greenleaf) to the floor that held the suites reserved for them. After a painfully long and rather needless welcome speech the man bid them goodnight and left silently. He remained standing, his gaze on the carpet, listening to his departure. Irulan who, to his deft surprise, seemed battered but rather improved, remained the same, a few steps away from him.
He should say something. Or at least continue with the game. But all desire to do so had disappeared and for a first in many years, Legolas felt downright tired and old. A few more moments, and he shifted on his feet, then said "Good night, Irulan. I will see you in the morning," without looking at her, and bowing ever so slightly in her direction, began to walk towards the door.
Irulan watched with bafflement for a moment, then hastily said "Wait!" The man stopped in mid-step, his back turned to her and she added "Are you going to leave me alone?"
When he slowly turned around, surprise was laced in his expression. "Of course," he said, as if trying to persuade her that he meant to respect her privacy.
Irulan, not certain why she felt so anxious but unable to ignore her state, stammered: "Well......I....I mean.....this place is foreign to me."
Legolas blinked, trying to gather his thoughts, which seemed in a rather chaotic array at the moment. "My room is next to yours. And you can call the staff for any of your needs. They speak English well," he said slowly, trying to read her meaning.
"Yes but," she shifted on her feet, fidgeting with her shirt, "but I mean......I thought we could.....talk some more."
His surprise only deepened at that. Not to mention his confusion. He turned fully to her, looking for a long moment before he replied. "We can talk tomorrow. You seem tired."
"Are you?"
"I rarely feel so," he said slowly, failing to understand this change of events.
"Well.....," she began again, at this point feeling rather foolish, "this does not seem very.....courteous of you." His eyebrows rose in a perfect arch as he remained expectant of her continuation. "I mean.....I feel a little......dropped like some sack." Irulan almost winced at the way that sounded.
Another staring duel prevailed. Then he slowly walked towards her, halting at a comfortable distance. "You know that would never be my intention," was his cautious comment.
Irulan bit her lower lip and looked around the gigantic room. "Alright," she said. "I just want to make sure that......we do not....part with ill feelings again."
Legolas, rather astonished and amazed at her behavior, looked at her for a long moment before he answered? "That can never be the case on my behalf. Though I hope the same for you."
She shrugged and nodded, feeling somewhat embarrassed to look at him. Expecting him to leave, she waited. Only instead of leaving, he walked up to her and stood looking down at her. And unwilling as it was, Irulan glanced up, then. "You are not tired?" he said gently, his mind urging him to leave and sort out his inner conflicts first, but his heart aching to stay with her.
Irulan looked away and shifted on her feet and afterwards shook her head deftly. "Not terribly so," she said, inspecting her boots again. It was amazing that she had wished never to see him again just half an hour ago, and now didn't want his departure. "But it's alright. I mean we can retire and-"
"Would you join me for an evening stroll?" he cut in, eager to give in to his heart instead of his mind. "I can come by in an hour."
Irulan smiled and met his gaze. 'We must look so damn ridiculous,' she thought with amusement. 'Some elf and some Aragorn's heir!' Her smile widened a little further. "That sounds nice."
Legolas smiled back, feeling incredibly torn and yet happy. He ignored the urge to leave for the night. He wanted to stay. He wanted to be with her. What that meant, was not important at the moment. No doubt that it was wrong. Most certainly it was a mistake. And yet.....he was so tired of being right and controlled anyway. Irulan waited for him to leave, but he did not. A silence hung between them as he looked down at her and feel a desire for her presence that he had not felt for anyone, before. It was new and fresh. Not exploited, not over-experienced and used up like all his other feelings. He reached out and glided his fingers through her long hair, swallowing softly with the incredible effect that had on him. Her look spoke of surprise and a slight unease at the unexpected action. "I like your hair," he said with a hoarse voice, to make the strange seem more acceptable.
She swallowed too, clasping her hands in front of her and feeling a strange excitement grasping her spirit. The thought that she had been convinced to hate this man just days ago seemed to have no weight to it at all, any longer. It sounded almost fictional. She smiled a nervous smile, her eyes not resting on his deliberately.
Legolas sighed and with a mighty effort, managed to step back. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in an attempt to clear his thoughts and to cool the fire that seemed to claim his mind. "In an hour, then," he said finally and left rather quickly so that he would not stay and engage in something overly dangerous.
Only after he had left and pulled the door behind him did Irulan dare a ragged breath and walked to sit on the bed. "This is not right. This is not right," she said. Then she repeated it some more. And alas, it was true! It was simply not right. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and to be honest, she looked terrible. Her clothes were all rumpled (not to mention overly casual). Her face was blanched with the lack of make-up and color. Her hair was in tangles. But more than that, there was an expression in her eyes that was downright dangerous. Something that should not be there.
She turned away from it. "You are better than this!" she said, her voice wavering though the words seemed tough. "You are stronger than this! Pull yourself together!"
She waited a few more moments, eager to feel convinced. But the feeling did not come. Sighing, she went to the bathroom to take a shower. On the way she turned away from every mirror she encountered.
****
"You amaze me! You are a king of kings, and yet, another sits on the throne of YOUR heart," he said, his smile evident on his face.
"Ah!" the man said, clasping his hands behind his back as a breeze ruffled his dark hair and threw it over his shoulders. There was a glimmer of pride in his eyes as he watched Arwen who could be seen in the courtyard below the tower he was standing on. "I told you that I was blessed, Legolas!"
He laughed at that, shaking his head and walking up to stand beside him to look at the view. Another silence issued between them and it was comfortable and welcome. "Another day is setting," he said then and Legolas turned to look at his profile that was embedded with the orange glow of the setting sun. Aragorn sighed deeply, squinting his eyes. "One more day I have aged. And yet, you have aged none."
The elf cast his eyes down, not wishing to see the wrinkles and soft lines that had begun to emerge in the face of his friend. No matter how many times he witnessed it, aging was a strange and unsettling thing. Like a whisper, foreboding that certain end to mortals. "My spirit has aged this day," was his cautious reply.
Aragorn laughed once more, though this one had a sad edge to it. "In that case, you are the one at loss, old friend, for my spirit is as old as it was the day I met you!"
"As are your wits, Estel," was the smug comment.
Suddenly the man turned to him, a serious expression on his face. "What will happen to Arwen after I die, Legolas?" The question hit the elf like a slap in the face and he remained baffled by it, unable to come up with an answer. "What will happen to my children? And to their children?" Aragorn swallowed softly, the alarm in his blue-green eyes not a common sight. "What will happen to my kind?" he added with a whisper.
Many moments passed and Legolas wished that the king would turn away and free him from the torture of that gaze. "Your line will live and prosper," he said finally, hoping that it will suffice.
Aragorn shook his head. "I fear for Man. Without the guidance of the Eldar, what will we be?"
"Only the Valar know, Estel," Legolas said softly, in an effort to soothe the spirits of his friend.
Finally the man DID turn away and the elf sighed in relief. "I think the Valar don't care!" was his somewhat bitter comment. Legolas merely swallowed and looked out to the view again, not wishing to meet the gaze of the other once more. "Neither do the Firstborn." Even then, he did not turn to glance at the King, as his unease increased even further. "And the worst part is.......I can not blame them."
"We DO care," Legolas replied finally, crossing his arms on his chest. "Our time has come to an end, Aragorn. It is the natural way of things."
A long silence came as both stood side by side, stances alike, their hands on the railing, their faces washed in the blood of the dying sun. "My kind will fail, Legolas," whispered the King suddenly and there was clear terror in his usually calm voice.
"We can not know such things, Estel," the elf tried gently.
"My kind will fail," he whispered again, swallowing hard and leaning on the railing to look down at Arwen who had stopped smelling the flowers and was looking up to him. Her perfect beauty had not changed at all. Or perhaps grown even more. "I know this as I know that we stand here and talk this moment, mellon."
Legolas did not reply this time and chose to purse his lips, gazing into the orange fluid that had splashed across the sky. "Perhaps it is not your kind…but the world that will fail," he whispered almost inaudibly.
Aragorn took a deep breath and turned his back to the scenery and leaning back on the railing, locked eyes with Legolas, whose majestic beauty was always astonishing to him. Especially in a setting like this - when nature was only adding to its effect. "Look at us! Now I know for certain that we ARE getting old!" he said finally with a sly grin.
Legolas shot back an aloof look, his lips curved slightly and his arms crossed on his chest. "Speak for yourself, Ranger!"
The other chuckled, shaking his head. "Such desperation does not become us, Legolas!" he said, bouncing off the railing and clasping his friend's shoulder who, at the sight of Aragorn's returning joy felt already much better, himself. "Why…we did what all believed to be impossible. Against all odds."
"Against all odds and a dwarf!" sighed Legolas with mock desperation.
"Ah yes!" laughed Aragorn, embracing his shoulder and guiding him slowly indoors. "How is Gimli these days?"
"Grumpy, filthy and arrogant."
The man's hearty laughter bounced off the walls that surrounded them and continued for many moments at the rather annoyed expression of the elf, who shook his head with mock frustration and looked ahead. "Then he must be exceptionally well! He will arrive tomorrow. I look forward to see him again!"
A sound erupted from Legolas that was suspiciously similar to a moan. The king looked around with pure surprise and amusement on his features. "A favor I ask of you," Legolas said suddenly and turned to lock eyes with him. His eyes were utterly serious when he spoke again: "Under no circumstances, at no time, for no reason and absolutely NEVER ask about Lady Galadriel!" When Aragorn's brows rose only further to that, his gaze not shifting, the elf added dryly: "He talks for so long on the matter, I envy mortality."
And then there was only laughter in the Hall of the King for a long, long time.
****
That particular hour felt like a decade. So many things happened and erupted and died and kindled and faded in him, soon Legolas lost track of things. He only knew that something in him was changing and that Irulan was the reason for it. It could not be something good, for with the certain, sharp pleasure came unparalleled pain. Or to put it better – both pain and pleasure came with immense force onto him, like a flock of hungry, bleak birds. His shell that he had built brick by brick with so much effort and so much strain, it seems, was cracked and breaking.
All because of a mortal woman.
He massaged his face again. 'Live millennia in this world, see everything, do anything, try all and finally end up realizing that you are as ignorant as the first day you came to it!' he thought bitterly.
He sighed and tried to gather his thoughts once more. Though at this point it was an useless effort. He was attracted to her, that much was certain. 'Maybe because I mentally put myself too far into this wager,' he thought momentarily. It was possible. But for an elf of his character and experience, not very probable. So he crossed that option out. He was attracted to her. 'Fine. There is nothing wrong with that. She IS an attractive woman,' was the second thought. For several reasons, she really was. And yes, there was nothing absurd about that. Only.....she happened to be a mortal. Not to mention, Aragorn's heir with a prominent right in Circle. Let's nor forget – one who held the opposite view to his in the upcoming meeting. And last but not least – she happened to be part of a wager that HE himself, willingly had engaged in.
He cupped his chin, pursing his lips. 'I am attracted to the only woman I can not have. Fabulous!'
Those were all arguments of his mind. Now his heart..........
His heart was an entirely different matter.
His heart cared nothing for words. It was only interested in the way she became so childish when she was excited. In the warm, intoxicating look on her face when she was concerned or sad. In the way she listened with rapt attention when he spoke. In her flaring temper and her sudden calmness. In the way she pushed him away so suddenly and then allowed his presence in her warm circle.
Legolas groaned and closed his eyes. This was not good, NOT good at all!
Why, if he continued in that direction of thought, one might actually come to the conclusion that........
The elf instantly opened his eyes and jumped to his feet. Where that thought was going, was not a road he meant to follow. Not today. Not ever.
'All is still as it should be,' he told himself, eager to still his frantic heart. 'Whether I enjoy it or not does not change the outcome – I shall win in the end. So I might as well let go and enjoy it.' As miraculous as it was, that made a lot of sense. Actually it made no sense at all, but in his desire to be with her with a clear conscience, Legolas just found logic in his reasoning.
And let it be known that when it comes to the ways of the heart, weakness was as merciless a shackle on elves as it was on Man.
So he showered, dressed and left his room, leaving his conscience behind. For the remainder of this wager he would just do his duty as a courter. There was nothing wrong with enjoying your job. It was only normal for him to court her to the fullest, so that she would not refuse him at his point, was it not? Yes, it was! With a rather relieving conclusion in the matter, he strode through the corridor, happy that he would answer no more to his mind and only deal with his heart.
It never occurred to him what would happen once his heart was touched and enflamed. It never occurred to him what the outcome would be once he allowed himself the freedom to feel and enjoy to the fullest.
It never occurs to anyone, anyway.
*****
Irulan jumped with the knock on her door. She felt the rush of her sentiments like the rush of blood to her brain and hesitated for a moment to let it settle in. Then she took a deep breath, pushed up her chin and called out: "Come in."
It was him of course. She rose with a smile and he walked in slowly, his gaze as penetrating as ever. "For you," he said when he finally stood in front of her and held out the bag in his hand. She blinked with surprise, then cautiously took it from him. It seemed to contain some clothes. She looked up at him with arched eyebrows.
"I acquired it from one of the stores in the hotel. It seems to be your size." When she seemed indecisive in accepting such a thing, he added "Your clothes need cleaning. And it is somewhat cooler now."
Still she remained hesitant and looked at his same, coarse brown-green sweater. "We do not feel temperature changes as much, Irulan. Please," he said softly, "surely it would be no great sacrifice for you to accept such a little thing?"
She nodded, still a little uneasy. Irulan had never liked accepting presents from her boyfriends. It had made her feel.....indebted. 'Legolas is not your boyfriend, you fool!' a voice exclaimed in her head suddenly and she hastily strode into the bathroom, in an effort to silence it. She pulled out several articles, tried them on and decided on the black cropped pants, the white shirt and the loose black mesh sweater over it. She loosely braided her still somewhat damp hair, and taking one last look at the mirror, stepped out.
Legolas was waiting with his hands clasped behind his back and upon her entrance, smiled and inspected her with a wandering gaze. "Almost perfect," he said softly, his smile widening.
"Almost?" was her amused reply.
He walked up to her and for no apparent reason her heart broke into a gallop. "Almost," he said and Irulan stopped breathing when he stood behind her and his hand reached out to unmake the braid. To her it seemed several minutes, though in reality it was perhaps only one. And to be honest, still far too long to undo such a loose braid. But Legolas was too engulfed in the feeling of it and took all the time in the world to glide his fingers again and again through the length of it. She did not react or walk away and that was an incredible accomplishment on his behalf.
He walked around to stand before her and once again reached out to comb his fingers through her strands and bring some of it over her shoulder to the front. Irulan only swallowed and remained still and he smiled at her evident struggle. Would he dare to go further? Oh yes, he would. Finally his right hand reached up and very gently tucked the hair behind her ear, but instead of departing, slowly followed the rim of it, towards her jawline as Legolas locked eyes with a rather uneasy Irulan and did not break the gaze until his touch rested on her chin.
"Perfect," he said finally with a whisper. They did not move and a moment passed. Then another. It was the first time he felt the urge to kiss her – though it certainly would not be the last time. And the urge itself was not a burning or sudden drive. It was warm, yes, but the warmth was gentle and rather slow and lazy. Not a slap in the face like his other emotions about her, but a tender and new longing. Nevertheless one he had no intentions of resisting. He would have fulfilled it for certain, for the moment in no interest of the consequences, but Irulan broke into a smile and moved away. Legolas was certain that a vacuum of fierce intensity had suddenly emerged between them, so strangely frustrating and unnatural was its effect. "Thank you," she said a little nervous and strode to her bed to pick up her phone.
He swallowed hard just at the sight of that thing, but took a deep breath and avoided thought about it. "Let us go, then," was his softer comment and she nodded, following him to the door.
***
They stepped into the rather crowded streets of Rome that seemed to be very vivid and alive, although it was the later hours of the day. It was a little cooler indeed, since the season was autumn. Legolas once again placed his hand on her lower back and guided her through a long street that resembled a marketplace with all sorts of stands. It was as colorful and vibrant as any place could be and they stopped to check out several items. Like many other languages, Legolas spoke Italian very fluently. Even many ancient languages now lost or forgotten were rather vivid in his elven memory.
He continued his tale of old Rome and it was hard to determine which one enjoyed it more. He even pointed out some buildings where in ancient times other estates had been and where he had resided or met this or that person. Old Rome was flickering before his eyes, as real as the current one and to his amazement, gone was the sting of sadness that usually came with such recollections. For the first time, he did not fee longing with the remembrance of past days. Or better said, for the first time, his current day was more preferable to experience and the past was only a captivating tale.
And captivating it was indeed! Irulan felt so entranced by his recollections and the way he chose to share them, that she almost believed to be there with him. She had always thought that such a conversation with an elf would be amazing. But this surpassed her expectations - it was simply fantastic to see the world from his eyes. No book could equal it. No painting could challenge it. No movie could capture it. The eyes of an elf were many times beyond any of those tools.
She walked with him and often looked up at his visage that held either a small smile at some fond memory, or a slight frown indicating an effort to recall, or just a blank gaze that spoke of his spirits partly strolling in those days once more. And during that walk in the dimly lit and rather crowded streets of Italy, Irulan began to feel something that she could only describe as awe and infatuation for Legolas. Not because he was handsome. Or rich. Or attractive. Or alluring. Because he was a creature that had seen and lived all the things she had read about in the eerie hours of the night, her eyes watering with tiredness, her mind reeling with the curiosity and excitement of it. It resembled the sensation one would feel to a man of great importance and impressive skill. And it changed many things in her, never to be reversed again. She had often felt intrigue for Legolas the elf. But tonight, having his company, she felt far more than intrigue - her sentiments bordered on admiration.
"Don't you believe me?" he said suddenly with a small smile and Irulan woke up, hastily glancing away.
"Of course I do!" she said a moment later.
"Then I must have misread the expression on your face," he prodded with amusement.
"You must have," sighed Irulan.
A short silence passed. "If so, correct me, Irulan," he said finally, tempted by her secrecy. "What were you thinking a moment ago?"
She did not answer immediately. Many moments later though, as someone who never had had difficulty in expressing her feelings of praise and admiration towards a person, said softly "I was thinking that you are as amazing as any being can be, Legolas. I am grateful for your company."
It was certainly not what he expected and his heart made a flip at her words. The compliment was not an overly overwhelming one. He had heard far more elaborate ones, countless times before and coming from some very impressive people, too. But none of those had caused the pride and joy in him that her recent words did. Unable to look away from her profile, he walked in pace due to some miracle and only a long moment later managed to say "Is that your true belief?"
Irulan looked up at him, surprised. "Of course it is," she said with a slow, widening smile. "Don't you believe me?" she added slyly, repeating his words. A moment later she looked away again, unable to hold his deep blue gaze, and sighed once more. "I envy you. All I have dreamed of, you have seen and done. I wish I had been there with you," she mumbled, lost in thought.
"I wish you were, too," came his low reply a moment later and suddenly Irulan felt unease at his tone. It helped to bring her back to reality. A reality in which she simply could not allow herself to drift into any sentiments with this elf.
"I think," she said then more heartily and giving him only a brief glance, "having seen so much, you must think all of us humans so predictable, alike and boring!" It was followed by a grin that spoke of no offense about such a natural deduction.
A surprisingly long time passed before Legolas halted and Irulan halted with him, surprised at the sudden stop and looked up to find him gazing down at her. "Not all," he said and she swallowed softly at the intensity of it. It took all her willpower to tear her gaze away and immediately after it Irulan shifted on her feet, absent-mindedly observing the happenings around her, hoping that he would break the dense atmosphere that had set on them once more.
Legolas had no such intentions. He had no intentions for anything, to be exact. He had let go of his mind for tonight and the reign of his sentiments had been extremely pleasurable, to say the least. "What would it take to make you mine?" he said with a low voice and Irulan stilled, certain that she had misheard him. She literally gulped and mentally crossed her fingers in hope that indeed she HAD misheard him. "What would I need to do for you to prefer me instead of.....David?" he said then, the last word reluctant.
So she had not misheard him! Irulan almost blanched at the thought. Though it was not a shock that Legolas had intentions of this nature -he had made it rather clear to her before- it felt strangely overwhelming when said in such an unrestrained manner. She shifted again, afraid that if he persisted she would begin to blush once more, and refused to look up, still not wise of any answer. He was too close -right before her actually- but she could not step back since it a move like that would look ridiculous. "Ask me of anything, Irulan," he whispered, his fingers finding her cheek.
Irulan barely suppressed a moan of frustration and pursed her lips, still not gazing up at him while he was looking at her with something that had almost solid force to it. "You do not love me," she managed to choke out finally, not really aware of her words but anxious to say something to break the spell.
Legolas blinked in surprise and his fingers froze for a moment. Only for a moment though, then his mind resumed the slow churn that it had been going through. Much later he would look back at the moment and realize that the answer that had actually formed in his brain had been "I do." Not yet, though. Too far gone in his solitary bitterness he was to discover such sentiments so easily. For now, he only felt overly excited by her presence and his touch on her cheek. "What I feel is no less worthy," he said instead. Irulan's sole reply was a broken smile. "You shall never feel the difference," he pressed on, not realizing that he was actually crossing the borders of his wager and beginning to stride into the territory of personal demands, at this point. The border between these two lands was getting blurrier by the moment, but this, neither, was to the elf's knowledge.
'Indeed!' thought Irulan, more amazed and impressed by his honesty than he would ever guess her to be. How wise it would be to accept. No doubt that he would treat her with utmost care and dedication during their entire time together - as he had said, 'more and better than any Man'. Who had loved her really, anyway? Whom had she loved in reality? Affairs of the times were not based on love anymore. Too rare it was. Almost a fable. A myth that spoke of grand feelings and thoughts. A great word, so overused and exploited, that it meant none of those magnificent things any longer. True love was too far a shot, too big an expectation. Irulan would feel distinguished if she ever stumbled upon mutual respect, liking and sharing.
"I can not," she said stubbornly more to herself than to him. And at that moment she realized that she did not fear Legolas. Never had. All the fear she had perceived this entire time....was fear of herself. Of what she was tempted to feel. And do. And become.
He swallowed hard in frustration and dropped his hand, still not moving or looking away from her. "Perhaps it is painful for you to hear, Irulan," he said cautiously, "but David does not love you, either."
She pursed her lips and looked away again, refusing to answer. "Look at me," he said. When she complied unwillingly he smiled and reached up again, tugging her hair behind her ear once more. "It is not David who is with you now. It is I," he concluded, his eyes growing grave again.
"You ask for too much, Legolas," she said finally with dismay. It was only true! It had been only a day and already his demand on her was exhausting.
His smile showed slight amusement. "I always have."
She nodded matter-of-factly. Legolas the elf, no doubt, was not a man limited with the walls that held others. "Do you not feel discomfort at the fact that I hold no feelings for you?" she said finally, elven perception of things a matter of curiosity for her.
"You will, in time," he said and it did not sound arrogant or suggestive, but rather natural.
"How do you know that?" she said incredulously.
He took a deep breath and for the first time looked around the street, and that action thankfully lifted some of the dense atmosphere. "I can give all you ask for," he said simply.
"Legolas," she said, and the astonishment in her voice made him look down at her once more, "do you think that THAT is enough to invoke love?"
He met her surprised gaze and held it for a moment before he replied: "Such is my experience," he said cautiously.
Irulan's eyebrows rose even higher and she broke into chuckles, though it had no amusement, but an odd tinge of sadness to it. She shook her head as he watched her with a slight frown, eager to understand her mind. "You are wrong," she said finally. And a moment later, with a sad sigh, again: "You are wrong." Legolas did not know what to say and thankfully did not have to think for too long, as she looked up and locked eyes with him. She cocked her head, observing him for a moment and he felt intrigued to know what she was thinking. "Do not look for such company. It is a sad thing," she said finally.
"Pray explain," he said a long moment later, confused and excited at being confused.
Irulan sighed again as if she did not know how to, her gaze wandering in the street. "Tell me," she began carefully, though there was a certain demand in her voice, "what is the difference between you and all other elves?"
He blinked in surprise and frowned somewhat deeper. Irulan observed his confusion in amusement, then continued: "You are beautiful," she said, her gaze wandering over his features and not seeing the light that sparked in his eyes at her words. "Graceful. Elegant. Strong. But......." with that, she locked eyes with him once more, "....so are all elves." A small smile displayed on her lips as he shifted slightly, agreeing with her comment but not liking the disappointment that rose in him at his rather dismissive placement with all others. "It can not be your riches that distinguish you," she continued, "for all Firtsborn have it to this or that amount. Wisdom? Experience? Kindness?" She shook her head as he listened on with rapt interest. "Common in all your kind, Legolas."
Irulan cocked her head, narrowing her eyes. "Neither is it your.....overwhelming....treatment of me," she said, and this time she knew he was somewhat disappointed for he shortly glanced away. "For if I were here with Haldir....or any other elf......would they not treat me just as graciously?" He clenched his jaws, a confusion coming onto his mind and claiming it. It was only true. Then why the hurt? He nodded in confirmation, his eyes cast downwards. "If someone loves you for these reasons and these alone, it is not YOU she loves, Legolas," she said then, trying to be gentler.
An eternity seemed to pass as the truth and shock of her words sank in on his spirit. Whoever had said that time and experience makes one wise, was a fool. A shallow, babbling fool who, engulfed in his own arrogance, had failed to see the ways of the world around him. He was no Legolas at that moment. No wise elf. No Circle member. No hero of the Fellowship. No guide of humanity. He was a fool. That and that alone.
A bitterness engulfed his spirit with the realization of that and as amazing as it was, the solitude that he had felt many, many times in his long life gathered into one, big, bleak mass and descended on him like a lethal bolt of thunder. "Then none have loved me," he whispered, not aware that he was saying the words out loud and thinking that they were only ringing in his mind. "And no one ever will." The sadness that seemed to grip his heart was unbelievable in its force and for a moment, he felt breathless at the impact of it. His whole spirit burned with the tremor that meteor had caused on his planet. All life here would cease, now that such smoke and fire had arrived!....
He swallowed hard. Then again. And blinked in an attempt to suppress the tears that, after who knows how many millennia, had miraculously found their way to his eyes once more. Partly astonished, partly shocked, greatly shaken and a little lost, he blinked again, trying to remember the current day, date, company and location.
He was absolutely certain that he would have never remembered it again. That he would have been doomed to madness and loss of mind, if Irulan had not spoken again. If not for her voice and her words, certainly he would have been lost beyond rescue. "And yet.....it is no other elf whose company I chose. I chose yours, Legolas," she said suddenly and Legolas was too bewildered to analyze it, but her voice had the alarmed eagerness to wake him from that dangerous slumber he seemed to be tempted to delve into.
And wake him up, it did. He blinked again and alas, there was the world once more. It was Rome. It was nighttime. The heart of the city. A dim street. It was this time and this place. Though none of these were his first perception. His very first perception was the sight of Irulan who was looking up at him with something like grave concern and anxiety, and the touch of her hand, grasping his. Once more he blinked and allowed reality to settle in its place. It did so - but not entirely. For everything seemed to have changed. Gone was the reality where he was immortal and she was merely mortal. Where to had the world disappeared where he was a wise, controlled and mature elf and she was an ignorant, temperamental and childish human he could and never would have interest in? Had it not been a fact that he felt nothing for this woman other than the completion of a wager?
Out of sheer desire to do so, Legolas lifted their entwined hands and pressed his lips on the back of hers. He ignored her flicker of tenseness, turned his back to the resistance of his mind and did not attempt to move as he closed his eyes, prolonging the kiss further.
Too amazed was Irulan to actually object. All she felt capable of was to watch him place a string of long and devastating kisses on her hand. The idea that perhaps he was not conscious of himself or her identity vanished when his eyes opened to find hers, but his kissing did not cease. And still, she could not move, frozen down to every cell in her body. He placed buds of fire on her hand and those bloomed into red, scorching flowers, leaving permanent marks on her skin, her spirit and her heart. Neither could she look away from his gaze that was, no doubt, the doom of everything Irulan had stood for and fought for all her life.
When her phone rang again, both did not hear it at first. But at the persistence of Anne, who thought that at this late hour Irulan had to be alone and therefore ready to share some details, it kept ringing and however entranced their brains, they finally did pick up the tone. It should be said that it ignited frustration and shock in both.
The look in the elf's eyes grew utterly cold and angry, but he did not blink or look away from her gaze. Irulan, feeling her insides tremble with that and not knowing what to do, remained exactly as she was for a few more rings, hoping that it would stop. Thanks to Anne, of course, it did not. Finally she swallowed and managed to look away. Another moment passed and since Legolas seemed to have no intentions of letting her hand go, even though he had stopped and remained watching her at the ring of the phone, her other hand wandered to the back pocket of her pants to retrieve it.
But she never got to pull it out. Suddenly his free hand grasped hers and she halted to look up in surprise. A moment passed as Legolas gazed into her eyes. Some people moved by them. The phone continued ringing. The background noises of the street continued uninterrupted. He swallowed softly and whispered "Leave it."
It was no simple request. And certainly none that she should oblige. For, though plain in words, it had a far deeper meaning. 'Leave David,' was that underlying meaning, 'Leave him and take me'. Irulan took a sharp breath, his gaze and his touch and his proximity an incredible spell on her psyche. In all her right mind, she could not do that. She blinked suddenly, remembering in a long time that there actually was NO David. Alright......but still....she could not......WOULD not take Legolas.
"I have to," she whispered finally, once again attempting to reach her pocket. And right at that moment the ringing stopped. She held her breath, her eyes locked to his, her hand chained to his, and waited. A part of her wanted it to ring again. The other part was more than glad that the option was gone. But no sound came. Slowly she pulled it out and stared at the dark screen of it.
"I ran out of batteries," she said finally, biting her lower lip.
Legolas took a deep breath of relief and shifted somewhat to stand more erect. He did not let go of her hand, though she seemed to be very anxious of that. "And HE ran out of luck," he stated finally, and there was a tinge of satisfaction in his voice. He pulled up her hand and placed another long kiss on it, not looking away from her as Irulan swallowed softly with her current helplessness. Now her phone was dead. And she did not have the charger with her. Why did that make her feel so……afraid? She glanced up at the elf's smile and knew that the reason for that was because the exact thoughts were going through HIS mind as well.
"You should let go of my hand," she managed to say with a hoarse voice, pulling at it softly.
"I will do so," was his amused reply, "when David calls."
Irulan moaned and pulled again. "Legolas……let go. This sort of intimacy is not right between us."
"I agree," was his soft sigh, though his grasp did not weaken at all. "I too, yearn for more, Irulan."
Her head snapped up as she stared at his serious expression that was softened with a smile. But once again, like any other statement he had made to her, this was no lie on the elf's behalf. Therefore it was easy for him to hold her surprised gaze and reply with a honest and bold one, himself.
The idea of further intimacy with Legolas was such a fire igniting idea that Irulan's mind went blank, and then suddenly stormy with the need to avoid it. "I share that intimacy with another!" she seethed, desperate to put as much distance between them as possible.
Something flickered in his eyes. He clenched his jaws and slowly pushed up his chin. A moment passed. "Not today," he said finally and it carried the tone of calm determination as well as a factual and rather pleasant observation.
Irulan looked away again. Frustration was too weak a word to describe her current feelings. A call was echoing in her. A call to intuition. To the reign of the heart. To the strange land of sentiments. A call that refused to still, no matter how persistent her effort. Again and again it tortured her mind, tugging at her senses. "Why me?" she said finally and both bitterness and desperation was heavy on her voice. "Of all people, Legolas, why have you chosen me?"
He waited a short moment before he replied: "A choice was never laid before me."
She shook her head and brought up her free hand to massage her face. "I am not your match, Legolas. And you are not mine." She dropped her hand and looked up at him again. "The things that have pulled you to me are probably nothing but delusional. Sometimes we….see things the way we want them to be. It is an inner wish, nothing more." She felt a pang of dismay at her own words, but continued anyway: "I am certain that I am nothing like the person you think I am."
"I think," he said, slowly, tilting her chin to lock eyes with her again, "you are right in that." A moment of silence issued as he inspected her features and it was almost as if he was seeing her for the first time. "You are something far better."
"Legolas…," she groaned
"Have you ever been to Paris?"
"…..this is most……..Paris?" He nodded, a bright smile invading his visage. "No," she said with slight unease.
"What a grave mistake," he said with a beguiling smile. "Unforgivable, almost." She just stared back with a frown. "One that needs mending." With that, he pulled her along and Irulan, baffled at the sudden change of things, only complied. They turned a corner, leaving the crowded street behind. Legolas strode fast and she had a hard time matching that pace. Then he suddenly stopped and she almost ran into him. They were at the sidewalk of a wider street with less people but active traffic. He held up his hand and a moment later a taxi made a sharp stop by them.
He opened the door and motioned Irulan to step in. Instead she gave the car a confused and slightly horrified look, followed by a questioning one directed to him. He remained looking merely amused and somewhat excited and Irulan was about to cross her arms on the chest and show some resistance when the sudden loud honking around her made her jump. Italians, by the look of it, had no patience for such personal shows and a hefty uproar broke at the prolonged stay of the taxi that was clogging the traffic. Suddenly bewildered, she hastily stepped in and was followed by Legolas who gave the driver directions in Italian.
"Legolas!" she seethed, still a little startled by the sudden outburst of anger a minute ago. "Don't tell me that we are going to Paris!"
"As you wish, Irulan," he said calmly, "I won't tell you so."
He did not turn to her again, watching the passing scenery, although Irulan looked at him long and furious enough to bore holes into him.
***
The taxi stopped at the train station and then another run followed as Irulan was pulled through various floors and halls. He found a booth and after some more Italian conversation (at this point she was frustrated that she did not know the damn language) and the elf's fabulous smile doing rather obvious things to the woman in the ticket booth, an exchange of credit card and tickets took place. The third run was thankfully shorter and ended with Irulan gently being pushed into a train that began to move as soon as they stepped in and Legolas closing the door behind them. She remained baffled at the fact that they would have missed it given another minute or so, and only woke from her daze when the elf gently grasped her hand again and pulled her through the compartments.
They arrived at a private one and she entered to find a small room, crowded with a somewhat large bed and its own private bathroom. Her gaze went over it and turned to find Legolas standing beside her, sharing the inspection. That finally woke her from her daze: "Legolas! Are we really going to Paris or something?!"
He smiled at her warmly, walking into the chamber to turn on a different lamp that shed a more yellowish light to replace the bright fluorescent one on the ceiling. "We are indeed." Irulan's mouth fell open to that, but he seemed not to notice and walked by her to take a look at the small bathroom. "This ride will take an additional two hours compared to the speed train. But we have missed that one. And though another was to depart in an hour, I chose this train for it will offer you the chance to sleep on a bed."
She was speechless for a few more moments, then hastily said "W-what about the hotel? What about……what about the jet? A-and my clothes?" Alright so the last one was rather a stupid question, but Irulan had never been so spontaneous in her life and the idea that she was leaving Italy and going to France as from about half an hour ago was sort of stupefying.
He smiled a slightly surprised smile. "Rest, Irulan," he said with mild amusement. "I will go and call the hotel. And inform the jet. As to your clothes……I am sure that the management can send them to England right away."
She swallowed softly, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. New Yorkers did not like surprises. And now Irulan knew why. "But I……" She bit her lower lip and waited for a moment. Then proceeded: "No need. For the clothes, I mean."
Legolas nodded and placing his hand on her back, guided her to the bed. "Are you hungry?" When she shook her head and sat on the edge of it, looking up at him, he continued: "Do not wait on me. Sleep." With a last look he exited, closing the door behind him and leaving a rather baffled Irulan behind. Certain that there was absolutely no way for her to sleep, she took off her boots and her sweater, lay on the sheets, placing her back to the wall in fear that the slight shaking would drop her on the floor. Sleep invaded her mind so suddenly, Irulan did not even sense its coming.
***
Legolas, for some strange reason, had never liked cell phones. Perhaps it was old fashioned, but the idea that he could reach anyone from anywhere and vice versa was not a very attractive one for him. For one thing, he felt that to actually make the effort when trying to reach someone was a better thing. Also, he did not like to be found and bothered all the time. So he stubbornly remained one of those people who drove the best cars and had the latest technology, but used public phones for their calls. He did have a cell phone, but used it only for business purposes and never took it with him on his personal trips.
He called the hotel in Rome, acknowledging them of their departure and instructing them to charge him for this night anyway. Another call was to inform the jet that a return flight was no more demanded. The next one was through the operator to his usual hotel in Paris. Actually he did have a house in France, but never the city person, he had acquired it further to the south of France and the ride there would be needlessly long. Then he went and delivered his tickets to the officer so that they would not be disturbed later on.
Having finished everything, he returned to the room and found Irulan fast asleep. Even though her breathing indicated that she would not wake up easily, he was careful when he sat at the edge of the bed. And he remained like that for some time, in deep thought.
'What exactly are you doing, Prince of Mirkwood?' said that taunting voice in him. He had no answer. Out of its own accord his hand reached out and wiped away a strand from Irulan's face, gliding through it and the remainder of the dark mass of hair that was spread on the sheet. His pale fingers buried into her dark locks and he watched his action for a while, strangely mesmerized by it.
'How delicate she is,' it continued with amusement. 'How frail creatures they all are! Not fitting for your grasp of steel, Thandruillion.' Legolas swallowed softly, not glancing away from Irulan's face that had gained a distinctive peace to it with sleep. 'And yet, you desire her.'
He took a deep breath at that, his posture not changing. 'Is it too much to ask in so many millennia?' he thought bitterly.
'Not if you are willing to pay the price.'
'I have paid higher,' was his dismissive and rather edgy reply.
'Oh no,' it chuckled, 'none nearly so high!' Eager to drown the argument, he bent over and untied his boots. 'All this time, you patiently and with no pause built your fortress, Legolas. From the lowest brick to the highest tower. From the darkest cellar to the brightest hall. You have spent a lifetime measuring, molding, stacking, calculating, pasting, renovating.' He carefully lied on the bed and turned on his side to face Irulan. 'It is a good fortress. A strong one. It will hold through this battle as it has through all the others.'
Legolas said nothing and instead reached out to trace the contour of her shoulder, down her arm and finally to her hand that lay curled between them. He was not sure that he could revert to his rational side if he tried to. It did not matter. Because he did not want to try.
This transformation was certainly far too chaotic and swift for an elf. Especially an elf like him. His kind took such changes not too well – as with everything else, alteration required an immense time, much calculation and thought. But Legolas was not like every other elf. He had been a member of the Fellowship and that was an experience that had changed him and all his friends for all times. That mark was not one to fade with time. It was permanent. And deep. And something that granted one with a strange streak of boldness. The courage to step into territories where none had dared to step before. To become best friends with dwarves and fight with Men. To sing with hobbits and ride with Istari. And to watch everyone leave, to watch the night set on a land where his kind would never walk freely again. To remain when all spoke of its foolishness. Of its empty hope. Oh no…no ordinary elf was he.
And yet, it was not easy. 'It took so much to learn never to trust such omens of happiness again,' echoed the voice in his head once more. 'Will you throw it all to the flames now? Are you willing to hope once more, only to taste bitter disappointment in the end?'
'To late to ask me that,' he thought in amusement. 'My ship will sail this river to the end. Whether an ocean awaits me or a murderous Fall, is for Fate to tell.'
'What is this gust that fills your sails and thrusts your vessel so?' was the desperate question.
But Legolas did not have the heart to say the word. Not yet. Instead he chose silent slumber.
****
