A Secret
"After all these years, visitors have come to these woods," Fiondra murmured to her brown mare, Etul. "They could be my way out of here." The horse whinnied. "Yes, your way out too," Fiondra replied, patting Etul's velvety nose. "I wonder..." she whispered.
"Wonder what?" came a masculine voice.
Fiondra jumped and spinned to face it. It was the Prince, leading his white horse. "You startled me, highn...Legolas."
He smiled at her and said, "My apologies then." Fiondra reached over to pat his horse.
"And who is this gorgeous creature?" she said in a gentle voice.
"Who, me?" Legolas said to her, jokingly. She blushed and automatically lowered her eyes. He cleared his throat and quickly said, "Fiondra, this is Arod. Arod, meet the fair lady, Fiondra."
Fiondra reached into a pouch near the waist of her skirt and pulled out a lump of sugar. "Here you go Arod," she said softly, feeling Legolas' piercing blue eyes still upon her. She let Arod's tongue lap up all of the sugar and then turned when she felt Etul nudge her shoulder. "Ah yes, Etul, here's one for you as well." She stroked each horse, distractedly, mindful of the elf's presence behind her.
Legolas watched her treat each horse with the sweets and then as she petted them. He could not believe that he, Legolas, the one who had a heart of ice when it came to women, was becoming so distracted when it came to this slip of an elf. If she was an elf. He had no proof other than the fact that her arrows were almost exactly identical to his. Curious, he looked at her. He coughed and Fiondra looked over her shoulder.
"Yes?" she queried him.
He grew nervous. "Well, I was curious. I noticed that the arrows that you have in your quiver are quite similar to mine. Can it be that you are an elf?"
Fiondra stared at him. "My, we are the intelligent one, aren't we? Yes, I have always been and will always be, an elf." She turned back to the horses, whispered a promise of a quick run in Etul's ear, and went out of the stalls.
As she started to stride out of the small stable, Legolas called to her. "I am sorry to offend you. I do not know how to act with women and it seems I am forever saying something insulting. It's just that I could not be sure..." He trailed off, leaving an awkward silence.
Fiondra whirled around, eyes flaming. "I am an elf, all right? Here, maybe this will prove it to you!" She pulled back her silky curtain of hair, revealing her pointed ears. "Now, if it's allowed by your highness, I am going to go make some supper." She gave him a mock curtsy and started again off for the house.
"Once again, it seems I must beg your forgiveness Fiondra," Legolas said when he caught up to her. He turned her to face him and she gasped quietly. At his touch, she had felt a tiny shiver of delight travel its course throughout her entire body. "I know that you are an elf. But my mind is telling me that it's not logical for you to be living here alone, in a forest not far from Mirkwood. Why do you not live with my people? Why have you not passed into the Undying Lands as so many of them already have? And why were orcs trying to get into your home?"
Fiondra stifled a sob and Legolas looked at her in alarm. He had not meant to make her cry. She gazed up into his eyes and said softly, "I must beg you Legolas not to ask me any more questions right now. After we eat, I will give you and Master Gimli the story of my life and of times before, but not until then. Is that understood between us?"
He nodded. Legolas could see that something was troubling her. Instead of questioning her further, he said, "If I can be of any service to in the kitchen or otherwise, I am at your command." He held out his hands once again in the sign of peace.
She smiled, the tears drying on her face as they made their slow paths downwards. "I could use some firewood if it would not trouble you. And Master Gimli could perhaps draw me some more water if he is done with the Orc bodies." And as if he had heard her say his name, Gimli presently appeared, grumbling at Legolas for leaving him alone with the task of burning the foul, dead beasts.