Chapter 2
Faranthir was now sat with her back to a thin beech tree, her hands tied, more tightly than necessary, around the back of it. Her captors had set up camp in a larger clearing a short distance from the one she had found. This spot was obviously used often, as there were remnants of recent fires. It had become colder as it became later and a sharp wind had picked up. Legolas was leant against a tree opposite Faranthir. Medethran was keeping warm by the small fire.
Faranthir shifted uncomfortably, making Legolas' eyes fall upon her again. She could feel his eyes upon her and found them looking directly at her face. Their eyes met and she could see the striking blue topaz colour of his eyes. She quickly looked away as Medethran approached him.
"I'm going to sleep now," she said quietly. Legolas nodded, "Are you going to watch her?" she added. He nodded again. She bent down and kissed him lightly on the lips.
"Goodnight," he whispered. She smiled and walked back over towards the fire and lay down falling asleep almost instantly.
Legolas winced as he touched the cut on his arm. It was more than just a scratch; the blade had scored across it, going in quite deep. It was very painful and he had nothing to cover it with. Faranthir could see this and as a healer, wanted to help.
"That looks bad," she said, wondering if she was right to speak to him.
"Yes, it is," he replied.
With a slight hesitation she continued.
"Let me help you."
"What? And let you loose? Do not mistake me for a fool!"
"Just trust me. I will not try to escape. You need a bandage of some sort."
Legolas sat and looked long and hard at her trying to work out her motives. Eventually he decided that she would not try to run because it was too dark and she didn't know where she was.
"Alright, but don't try anything." He moved over and untied her bonds. She brought her hands forward and rubbed her wrists; there were red marks on them. Legolas sat back against the tree. She knelt up to get a better view. Faranthir realised that he would need to remove his silk shirt and started to blush. He realised why she had turned scarlet and smiled, then obliged, but it caught on his arm and started to bleed again. Faranthir carefully helped him remove his sleeve exposing his well-built torso, obviously that of a warrior. She knew he would be watching her and quickly averted her gaze but he had already seen the look on her face and smiled.
"Do you have any water? I need to rinse the wound," asked Faranthir.
"Yes, here." He handed her a small curved water carrier. She took out a piece of cloth from her pocket, which she carried around in case of any injuries, and poured some water onto it. She patted it gently against the cut and he groaned slightly from the pain. In Legolas' eyes she looked even more beautiful close up and Medethran was no competition. He realised that he was beginning to find her very attractive but he knew she was a Southerner. He had not yet interrogated her on who she was and why she was in Northern Mirkwood, but he decided that he would not ask the question outright.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked.
"Yes. You are the Prince." She replied. He nodded in response, "And what do you know of me?"
"You are the eldest of your three brothers, you are slightly older than me, by the look of you, you are a strong warrior, and..." she paused and then continued, "You had a lot of 'relationships' with other women," she said trying not to offend. He raised an eyebrow at the fact that this was even known by the royal family of the South, but didn't say anything.
"Perhaps that is true. And may I ask who you are?"
"I am the Princess."
"Princess Faranthiril, yes?" he questioned.
"Faranthir," she replied bluntly, "And what do you know of me?"
"You are the only child of your father. Indeed, you are younger than me, you are perhaps one of the most skilled Elves I have ever seen wield a sword, and..." his voice turned to concern, "You have never been in love."
"That is true." She looked up at him wondering how he had known. After cleaning the wound she brought out a small bag of dried leaves.
"This will sting," she warned him as she placed three along the cut. It did sting!
"Hold this down," she ordered, but not sharply. He did as she said. She lifted up the front of her dress and ripped a long strip of cloth from one of the white layers beneath. She took his hand and placed it on her leg to keep it straight, as he could not hold it up. Even though he knew that she was doing this all innocently it still excited him. Faranthir placed one end of the bandage on the cut holding the leaves in place and slowly started to wrap it around his arm.
"Who is she?" Faranthir asked, looking towards Medethran.
"My future wife. She comes from another high-class family. The things you have heard about me are true. My father became annoyed and eventually told me that I must choose someone to become my wife, so I chose Medethran."
"Do you love her?" she continued.
After a long pause Legolas answered.
"No. I have never been in love either. She was just the prettiest and had a friendly character. I thought that she would become a helpful and caring wife, but I have found that she thinks her hair more important than me. There are more traits that I dislike in her."
Faranthir listened carefully to what he said. Unlike her, he had been allowed to choose who he should marry, but just like her was unhappy. Tethril had never wanted Faranthir for love, as it seemed that Medethran just wanted Legolas to get higher in society and become richer. She frowned at why love was so unfair. Legolas watched her face and could see that she was thinking about her own tribulations in love.
"Are you married yet?"
"No not yet. The date is set for the 21st September." She sounded very sad about that.
"You are not looking forward to it?"
"Not at all. I don't really want to talk about him."
Legolas respected this and watched as she continued to wrap the bandage around his arm. As he looked at her he realised that this strong princess was someone that needed to be protected. She needed to be loved and cared for. It was something that she yearned for but no one had given her. Faranthir neatly tied a tight knot on the bandage.
"There," she said as she looked up at him. Without warning he immediately leant in and kissed her. It was a long, slow kiss. No one had ever been so gentle with her and she loved it. His hand went around the back of her neck, which she flinched at, and the other one lay on her leg. She now feared the touch of a man because of Tethril. Her right hand held his face and the left supported her on the ground. His tongue only entered at her will. It felt so right, but at the back of her mind a voice told her that this was all wrong. He was a Prince of Northern Mirkwood and she was the Princess of the South. She suddenly pulled back. Legolas looked confused. He thought she was enjoying it.
"I'm sorry, but we cannot do this. Think of who you are. Think of who I am!" she exclaimed. Legolas knew she was right and felt stupid to have even tried it.
"No, I'm sorry. I should not have done that," he replied.
"It's alright."
"No, it's not. I don't want to hurt you. I can tell you've been hurt before."
Faranthir looked at him and saw that he was truly sorry. Tears started to sting her eyes as she thought of how Tethril had treated her. How could her father give her away to such a person, when this stranger was showing her affection and treated her with respect? She looked away so that Legolas couldn't see them roll down her cheek, but it was too late. Legolas wondered what he had said to upset her and moved over to the tree, which she was now leaning against, quickly putting his shirt back on. She was hiding her face with her hair. He sat before her and swept it out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. Her eyes met with his again and he cupped the side of her face with his hand. Again she flinched; whenever Tethril did that he would slap her. Legolas had noticed her tense up when he touched her and wondered if someone had made her afraid.
"Don't cry," he said softly, "Why do you become so scared when I touch you?"
Faranthir didn't reply.
"Has another man made you scared to be touched?" She said nothing but looked into his eyes and he knew instantly that he was right. He opened his arms and she fell straight into them. Legolas caressed her hair as she fell asleep in his arms, her head resting on his chest.
Faranthir was now sat with her back to a thin beech tree, her hands tied, more tightly than necessary, around the back of it. Her captors had set up camp in a larger clearing a short distance from the one she had found. This spot was obviously used often, as there were remnants of recent fires. It had become colder as it became later and a sharp wind had picked up. Legolas was leant against a tree opposite Faranthir. Medethran was keeping warm by the small fire.
Faranthir shifted uncomfortably, making Legolas' eyes fall upon her again. She could feel his eyes upon her and found them looking directly at her face. Their eyes met and she could see the striking blue topaz colour of his eyes. She quickly looked away as Medethran approached him.
"I'm going to sleep now," she said quietly. Legolas nodded, "Are you going to watch her?" she added. He nodded again. She bent down and kissed him lightly on the lips.
"Goodnight," he whispered. She smiled and walked back over towards the fire and lay down falling asleep almost instantly.
Legolas winced as he touched the cut on his arm. It was more than just a scratch; the blade had scored across it, going in quite deep. It was very painful and he had nothing to cover it with. Faranthir could see this and as a healer, wanted to help.
"That looks bad," she said, wondering if she was right to speak to him.
"Yes, it is," he replied.
With a slight hesitation she continued.
"Let me help you."
"What? And let you loose? Do not mistake me for a fool!"
"Just trust me. I will not try to escape. You need a bandage of some sort."
Legolas sat and looked long and hard at her trying to work out her motives. Eventually he decided that she would not try to run because it was too dark and she didn't know where she was.
"Alright, but don't try anything." He moved over and untied her bonds. She brought her hands forward and rubbed her wrists; there were red marks on them. Legolas sat back against the tree. She knelt up to get a better view. Faranthir realised that he would need to remove his silk shirt and started to blush. He realised why she had turned scarlet and smiled, then obliged, but it caught on his arm and started to bleed again. Faranthir carefully helped him remove his sleeve exposing his well-built torso, obviously that of a warrior. She knew he would be watching her and quickly averted her gaze but he had already seen the look on her face and smiled.
"Do you have any water? I need to rinse the wound," asked Faranthir.
"Yes, here." He handed her a small curved water carrier. She took out a piece of cloth from her pocket, which she carried around in case of any injuries, and poured some water onto it. She patted it gently against the cut and he groaned slightly from the pain. In Legolas' eyes she looked even more beautiful close up and Medethran was no competition. He realised that he was beginning to find her very attractive but he knew she was a Southerner. He had not yet interrogated her on who she was and why she was in Northern Mirkwood, but he decided that he would not ask the question outright.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked.
"Yes. You are the Prince." She replied. He nodded in response, "And what do you know of me?"
"You are the eldest of your three brothers, you are slightly older than me, by the look of you, you are a strong warrior, and..." she paused and then continued, "You had a lot of 'relationships' with other women," she said trying not to offend. He raised an eyebrow at the fact that this was even known by the royal family of the South, but didn't say anything.
"Perhaps that is true. And may I ask who you are?"
"I am the Princess."
"Princess Faranthiril, yes?" he questioned.
"Faranthir," she replied bluntly, "And what do you know of me?"
"You are the only child of your father. Indeed, you are younger than me, you are perhaps one of the most skilled Elves I have ever seen wield a sword, and..." his voice turned to concern, "You have never been in love."
"That is true." She looked up at him wondering how he had known. After cleaning the wound she brought out a small bag of dried leaves.
"This will sting," she warned him as she placed three along the cut. It did sting!
"Hold this down," she ordered, but not sharply. He did as she said. She lifted up the front of her dress and ripped a long strip of cloth from one of the white layers beneath. She took his hand and placed it on her leg to keep it straight, as he could not hold it up. Even though he knew that she was doing this all innocently it still excited him. Faranthir placed one end of the bandage on the cut holding the leaves in place and slowly started to wrap it around his arm.
"Who is she?" Faranthir asked, looking towards Medethran.
"My future wife. She comes from another high-class family. The things you have heard about me are true. My father became annoyed and eventually told me that I must choose someone to become my wife, so I chose Medethran."
"Do you love her?" she continued.
After a long pause Legolas answered.
"No. I have never been in love either. She was just the prettiest and had a friendly character. I thought that she would become a helpful and caring wife, but I have found that she thinks her hair more important than me. There are more traits that I dislike in her."
Faranthir listened carefully to what he said. Unlike her, he had been allowed to choose who he should marry, but just like her was unhappy. Tethril had never wanted Faranthir for love, as it seemed that Medethran just wanted Legolas to get higher in society and become richer. She frowned at why love was so unfair. Legolas watched her face and could see that she was thinking about her own tribulations in love.
"Are you married yet?"
"No not yet. The date is set for the 21st September." She sounded very sad about that.
"You are not looking forward to it?"
"Not at all. I don't really want to talk about him."
Legolas respected this and watched as she continued to wrap the bandage around his arm. As he looked at her he realised that this strong princess was someone that needed to be protected. She needed to be loved and cared for. It was something that she yearned for but no one had given her. Faranthir neatly tied a tight knot on the bandage.
"There," she said as she looked up at him. Without warning he immediately leant in and kissed her. It was a long, slow kiss. No one had ever been so gentle with her and she loved it. His hand went around the back of her neck, which she flinched at, and the other one lay on her leg. She now feared the touch of a man because of Tethril. Her right hand held his face and the left supported her on the ground. His tongue only entered at her will. It felt so right, but at the back of her mind a voice told her that this was all wrong. He was a Prince of Northern Mirkwood and she was the Princess of the South. She suddenly pulled back. Legolas looked confused. He thought she was enjoying it.
"I'm sorry, but we cannot do this. Think of who you are. Think of who I am!" she exclaimed. Legolas knew she was right and felt stupid to have even tried it.
"No, I'm sorry. I should not have done that," he replied.
"It's alright."
"No, it's not. I don't want to hurt you. I can tell you've been hurt before."
Faranthir looked at him and saw that he was truly sorry. Tears started to sting her eyes as she thought of how Tethril had treated her. How could her father give her away to such a person, when this stranger was showing her affection and treated her with respect? She looked away so that Legolas couldn't see them roll down her cheek, but it was too late. Legolas wondered what he had said to upset her and moved over to the tree, which she was now leaning against, quickly putting his shirt back on. She was hiding her face with her hair. He sat before her and swept it out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. Her eyes met with his again and he cupped the side of her face with his hand. Again she flinched; whenever Tethril did that he would slap her. Legolas had noticed her tense up when he touched her and wondered if someone had made her afraid.
"Don't cry," he said softly, "Why do you become so scared when I touch you?"
Faranthir didn't reply.
"Has another man made you scared to be touched?" She said nothing but looked into his eyes and he knew instantly that he was right. He opened his arms and she fell straight into them. Legolas caressed her hair as she fell asleep in his arms, her head resting on his chest.