This is my first Lego-mance, but not one where they actually fall in love, so don't worry, no cliches, I hope. Just a little background that I didn't have the energy to write up: Legolas and Gwenneth have been together, oh, lots of hundreds of years. So they're really close, and no instant romance. But they're not married, because their parents think they're too young. Poor dears. (Oh, and I don't know if we know anything about Legolas' mother, but I've put her in here. If she shouldn't be, tell me. This is about the time of the Quest of the Ring.)
meleth nín- my love
melin le- I love you
In a corner of one of the Mirkwood king's Elven halls, two Elves sat hand in hand, staring up at the ceiling in thought. Their names were Gwenneth and Legolas, one a fair Elf-maiden of unremarkable birth, the other the Elven prince of the Mirkwood. The latter seemed to be puzzling something out. "Hmm, purple. How many times have we done this certain color, and still you challenge me with it?"
Gwenneth laughed. "Many times have I posed this question to you, and many answers have you given. Still there must be more. Tell me, have you thought of an answer?" The two of them often played this game, just as a way to pass the ample time they spent together. One of them would name a color, and the other would think of a way to describe it without using the sense of sight. Legolas let Gwenneth's hand go and threw his arms up.
"Ai! I know not, Gwenneth. I cannot think of any that I have not yet used! Can you?" She shook her head.
"Nay. Perhaps we have exhausted description for this color. What shall we do now?" Legolas sat back and considered.
"Let us try something different than usual. Put your mind to this. Cold, Gwenneth. Describe cold. Surely mortals, more susceptible to such things, would know it better, but try your hand at it." Gwenneth frowned.
"I am not sure. Perhaps being all alone and frightened, that would cause me to feel cold." Legolas nodded. "What do you think it is?"
Shrugging, Legolas replied, "The closest I believe I can come is... the hollow in your stomach when one you love has died. Then again, death in itself is a bit foreign to us." Gwenneth shuddered.
"Yes, that is a good description. What about something more pleasant? Such as heat. What do you think hot is like? This should be fairly easy." Leaning back against the stone, Legolas thought.
After a moment, he replied, "I think heat could be like anger. Or embarrassment."
"By the Valar, Legolas, you are of a depressing mind this day. Here, then. What of warmth? Surely you can find some good in that."
Legolas peeked at her from the corner of his eye. "Pleasant. What about coming home from a long journey? Is that pleasant enough?" Gwenneth nodded, leaning back on her elbows.
"I think this one is simple. Here is warmth." A sparkle entered her eyes, then she leaned toward him and pressed her lips softly to his. He closed his eyes and felt she was right. This was the definition of warmth. When she pulled away, he reached up and stroked her cheek with a finger.
"That is the very essence of it, meleth nín." She smiled, then her mouth popped open and her eyes widened.
"Ai, I am supposed to be in the kitchens helping Naneth right now!" Legolas rolled his eyes.
"If you must go, I pity you. All right, then." She stood and placed her hands comically on her hips.
"Cooking is not all so bad as you make it out to be. It is a good skill to learn, and I rather enjoy it!" She smiled playfully and turned with a wave of farewell.
He rose and called after her, "Well, do not expect me to take your side someday when our daughter decides she does not want cooking lessons!" She whirled and hastened back to him, taking his hands in hers.
"That was positively the right thing to say." She tiptoed to quickly kiss the corner of his mouth and scurried away. Legolas felt that warmth again, and smiled, brushing the hand over the place that she'd kissed. He shook his head and walked away.
Some time passed, and life went on as normal in Mirkwood. For a time, Legolas was often away from the cave-halls, and when he was there seemed preoccupied and worried. Gwenneth asked him often what was happening, but he would only answer, "nothing," and walk away. Soon she stopped asking, or at least, she stopped asking him. She asked his mother a few times, but she had no knowledge of it. When she got the oppurtunity, she asked King Thranduil. Legolas' father's eyes became slightly guarded, but he smiled and assured her that there was nothing to fear. "Only the business of a warrior," he told her. But that did worry Gwenneth. She had always worried for Legolas, because he was a warrior, but the fact that he would not tell her something about it chafed at her in an unreachable spot under her skin.
Then Legolas came home one day very troubled. He brushed by her as he came in with only a nod, not even a smile. Gwenneth was too shocked to follow him, but later that day she went to him. He had shut himself in his chambers and hardly answered to her knock. She was afraid she would find him weeping, but still he only seemed troubled, perhaps angry, though at whom she could not say. She sat beside him on the bed and crooked her arm around his shoulders, turning his face towards her. He took her hand and smiled slightly, but still did not speak. "Legolas, meleth nín, what is wrong? Why are you so distant?"
Letting go her hand, he pulled her head to his shoulder and leaned his chin against her brow, ringing his arms around her loosely. She settled her hands against his chest and waited for him to answer. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and then spoke slowly. "There was... an effort that we were making. We had a creature captive whom I and many others were needed to guard. That is what has kept me away from the life of the halls so much of late. I did not want to trouble you with it, though it seems I troubled you whether I spoke to you of it or not. But this day, it was discovered that our prisoner had escaped, and though we found traces of him, we could not recapture him. It is not good that he is lost."
Gwenneth rubbed Legolas' shoulders. "I am sorry, Legolas. But had you told me, I could have done my best to ease your burden." He relaxed into her touch, closing his eyes and almost letting his mind drift to sleep.
"I will remember that, Gwenneth. Thank you," he murmured against her hair. By the time she rose and went back to her chambers, he smiled freely, as though a great cloud had been lifted from his mind. But still, she noticed as she slipped out, his eyes were heavy and burdened. She wished there was more she could do, but nothing else came to mind. She went back to her chambers. Sleep came easily, the first night it had been so since Legolas had begun acting so strangely. Still, she realized, he had not told her who the prisoner was that they had been keeping. "Creature," he had said. Curious times, curious actions. And curious secrets, she thought ruefully.
Legolas was involved in the social life of the halls as normal after that night. He frolicked in the woods with the other Elves, and resumed his normal time with Gwenneth. Every so often his maiden would catch a dull gleam of trouble in his eyes, but she would only try to cheer him, since there was not anything else to do.
Less than a week after the escape of the prisoner, a messenger from the king came to where Legolas and Gwenneth were sitting together and summoned Legolas to his father's throne. This was not greatly unusual, but Gwenneth again caught the troubled look in his eyes, and gripped his fingers an extra moment as he kissed her hand. He smiled at her and walked after the messenger. Gwenneth sat back against the wall in a bit of a huff. What kind of prisoner would cause him such burden, even after the prisoner had gone? Why would he personally be so troubled about the escape of one captive?
Gwenneth did not see Legolas again for quite a few hours. When she did see him again, he was in his traveling garb, his bow and knife were strapped on his back, and he was carrying a pack. "Legolas, dear one, where are you off to, and so close to evening?" He stopped at her voice and turned to face her, a distracted smile flickering on his face.
"Ah, Gwenneth, muin nín. I had hoped I would see you before I left." Her eyes widened at his words, and she opened her mouth to ask again where he was going, but he held a hand to her lips and pulled her alongside him, slipping a leather-guarded arm around her waist as they walked. "My father has sent me on a journey. It is not far, only to Imladris to bring a message to Lord Elrond who rules there. It will not take me long, but my father wishes me to leave at once. I was just going to the stables, to fetch my horse and be off." She looked up into his eyes, an hurt expression playing on her face.
"You were not going to tell me..." He shook his head and shushed her, stroking her jawline.
"Ai, do not say such a thing of me, Gwenneth! I had a dear hope that our paths would cross on the way. If I were to leave without telling you, why then would I take the long way to the stables from my father's court? The way that happens to run by your chambers?" She conceded and leaned against him as they walked. Once at the stable, she helped him prepare his horse.
"It will not be long before you return?" He turned to face her and took her in his arms.
"You can expect me back in a month, depending on how greatly the Lord Elrond extends his hospitalities. Imladris is such a lovely place." Gwenneth pouted, only partly in jest.
"Whoever said a month was as a moment to Edhil knew nothing of love." Legolas chuckled, then kissed the tip of her nose.
"Nay, they simply knew nothing of you and your over-attachement, meleth nín. I will return." With that he let her go and leapt to the horse's back. "Melin le, Gwenneth." She nodded.
"Navaer, Legolas, a ná Elbereth veria le, ná elenath dín síla erin rád o chuil lín. Melin le." (Farewell, Legolas, and may Elbereth protect you, may her stars shine on the path of your life. I love you.) She patted the horse's flank as Legolas spoke to him. The horse moved off at a quick trot. Gwenneth shook her head and turned around. She would miss him, but she was not over-attached. Of course not! Yet she already felt heartache, watching him leave. Had she known what was soon to happen, she would never have let him mount his horse.
Please tell me what you think! R&R!
