Hey Folks !

This is a little Christmas present to all the fans of Frances and Legolas' relationship. I have been waiting for ages to write this. Or rather, I started it ten years ago and am happy to have been able to rewrite it before Christmas to post it. It might be the longest of this story, but it won't be the sweetest. Sugar will follow, but it might take a while.

In the meantime, I wish you all a merry Christmas, and I hope you enjoy this. Cheers

Minas Tirith

Night was strengthening its grip on the white city, darkness descending upon it like there would be no tomorrow. And somehow, it was not so far from the truth. How many would not survive to see the first blossoms ?

Legolas sighed, his heart unsettled. Somewhere in the citadel rested his lady love, probably yearning for his presence, sitting on a couch meant for two people. But did she, really?

In his wildest dreams, Frances waited for him, arms outstretched to welcome his embrace, whispering her undying love at his ear. In the darkest, she rejected his presence quietly, explaining their closeness was only friendship, and that her heart still belonged to her betrothed in her strange world. How queer, that his mood would be so sombre when he should have been elated from their blossoming relationship. Could Frances be out of sorts as well, her sadness leaking through their bond?

The heavy stud of Aragon's feet elicited a deeper frown from the elf. Usually, the ranger was much lighter-footed. When he stomped into the tent, his features tense, Legolas came to him.

"Aragorn. What has angered you so ?"

The ranger sent him a weary look, sitting heavily on his bedroll as if the exhaustion of the later days had finally crashed on him.

"It is true I was angered at first, but now I only feel desolate for the argument. I had known the subject would be so sore, I might have avoided it altogether. Or found a better way to convey my feelings."

The wood elf raised a blond eyebrow, awaiting for more information, but somehow Aragorn seemed reluctant to share. Was it shame that passed upon his tired features?

"I am ready to listen if you wish to unburden your mind, but I will not pry."

The ranger sighed, sending a grateful gaze to his lifelong friend. How many years he had spent by his side, sharing long days in the wild, survival tricks and being instructed by the elf? He knew he could trust him, even if, in this case, he doubted his impartiality. Or rather, he knew where Legolas's allegiance would go.

"I might have had a row with Frances."

Legolas's glare was like a bucket of icy water being discharged upon his head.

"You what ? What happened ?"

A quick glance at the elf's clenched fist told him he was trying very hard to control himself. And so, he set to explain how he had learnt that Frances had spoken to Faramir against his instructions, hence the argument that had broken afterwards in her private quarters. He had not meant to be so patronising, neither paternalistic, nor any of what she had accused him of. And truth be told, a very levelled delivered chastisement had turned into a heated argument in very little time.

"Actually, I have to admit that I said very little. I only wished to convey my disappointment, but she was very angered"

Legolas seemed at loss just as much as he was. It was so unlike Frances to yell at people, and he had issues imagining that she would lash at Aragorn. They had such a close bond!

"Now I regret the way we parted, but I did not know what more to do at the time than let her gather her spirits again."

"How long since you left the citadel?" suddenly asked the elf.

"It was but a few hours before dusk."

Legolas's blue eyes seemed lost in thoughts. And then, his face lightened.

"Of course!" he said as he sprang to his feet. "Thank you, my friend."

And then he disappeared through the opening of their tent. Bewildered, Aragorn stood up, and pushed the flap aside. Watching the tall silhouette of his friend retreating, he whispered:

"Apologise on my behalf, dear friend."

The bitter wind was blowing down from the mountain, its sharpness reminding of those who had forgotten of the early season. Spring was coming close, but winter would not surrender its claim on Minas Tirith, as if it was waiting for middle earth to fall into slumber or triumph before deciding whether it should fade away.

Frances wandered aimlessly in the dark streets of the broken city. The silvery light of the moon cloaked the ruins in weird shades, and the silence suited her as she walked down the fourth gate. The brilliant capital was slowly recovering from its wounds, but at night rest was needed for each and every soul that had been working hard to undertake huge repairs to secure the stumbling buildings.

Guards had mostly watched her pass, some of them coming closer before bowing and letting her go. Walking beside their legendary returned King had its advantages, and her reddish hair was already known all over town.

Said future King against whom she had yelled but a few hours prior. Frances sighed, tears welling up in her eyes as she thought about Aragorn. His shocked face had her shaken, now her anger had quelled. How stupid she had been! Of course, the ranger had berated her about telling the truth to Faramir, and to an extent, he might have been right.

But instead of apologising, her temper had flared; she had lashed out at the ranger. 'Patronising, arrogant and paternalistic' she had called him, taking on him the frustration of a lifetime dealing with doctors who wanted to keep the information for themselves.

Who did they think they were, those damned healers, to conceal the truth? Did they judge their patients too dumb to accept and understand their fate? Could they not consider the resources of their wards, in this case the Lord Faramir? Did Aragorn not understand that his patient already knew that something was askew, and that the wondering could drive him mad? How could he take the decision in Faramir's stead, how was that better than what his late father would have done to manipulate him?

Frances' defence might have made sense had she not spoken so harshly. Would Aragorn ever forgive this outburst? He had withdrawn silently, leaving her to her thoughts. The young lady had brooded for hours in her room, her gaze lost as the sun settled, feeling keenly the absence of her friends. And then, she had gathered her cloak and sprang outside. Fresh air was needed!

If she found him, she would apologise.

Making her way down to the third level, Frances spotted a piece of wall, shattered halfway through its height. As a reckless idea formed in her mind, the young woman smiled and limped up to the stairs with her cane. She needed a bit of adrenalin to overcome her self-deprecating mood. Once over the wall, she straightened up and contemplated the view of the sleeping city under the moonlight.

The sight was breathtaking, and she felt privileged to be able to witness its grandeur. There was nowhere on earth where she could have seen such an authentic display of art and power, and even if it had existed it would now be spoiled by tourists and companies trying to make money out of it. Here, everything was still raw and true, and the city carved into the mountain felt alive. She had seen Aragorn crowned, reigning over this realm. How she hoped that her intuition was right!

Unbeknownst to the young lady, a very fretful elf was climbing the levels at great speed. The turmoil of his thoughts prevented him from seeing Frances as he passed below the shattered wall, his tall legs carrying him faster than any human. Had his hears not picked up a hushed conversation from above, he would not have paused. Yet, something in the tone of the whispered words called to him.

"What is she doing?"

"Nothing you should have to concern yourself with," answered a gruff voice.

"Look, now she's dancing."

Legolas's head whipped around, searching the faces of the couple two stories above him, and following their gazes. Then, his heart leapt into his throat.

"Those elves are a bit crazy. Close the shutters and come to bed."

The squeaking of wood being manoeuvred against rusty attaches nearly tore Legolas ear off, and then the street was silent. But his heart was not, it beat so wildly that the elf wondered if it would surge from his chest. Right there, facing the outskirts of the city under the bright moonlight, Frances danced on the ruin of an outer wall. How she had got up there with her stiff muscles was quite a mystery, but he knew that for sure pain had been involved. Such stubbornness !

Shaking his silvery braids, Legolas fought the urge to land across her and drag her back to her rooms, but the sight of her standing in the moonlight stopped him. She seemed … appeased. And the dull ache of his heart was slowly receding. Surely, this strange dance helped her soothe her mind. A little voice teased him; what a coward you are to flee her wrath so, but the elf dismissed it. Now was not the time to fight.

None of them would probably live much longer after Aragorn's decision to march to the black gates, and if the companions would follow him heartily he knew that having the young woman cross with him was not the way he wanted to live his last days. Like his grandfather had so many centuries ago, Legolas was ready to die in front of the black gates of Mordor. Destiny was sometimes being so ironic, dooming his family and pushing him to follow the same steps two generations later.

This alliance with free people of middle earth was unusual for an elf, but he really believed in the strength of friendship and this is why he had volunteered to this quest. Now that impending doom was coming at him, Legolas understood the reluctance of his father. King Thranduil had seen the desolation of Mordor, and did not want his son to suffer the same fate. Too late now; the guilt of leaving his father and his people was gnawing at Legolas, but he owed it to Aragorn and the fellowship to be a part of this last battle.

The sound of wood clanking on the rocky wall shook him out of his musings, and the elf concentrated on the cloaked form. She was standing still now, deprived of the cane that had fallen from her grip. There was nothing that shook him more than seeing her ache; he knew that the pain was necessary for her to get better. So did Frances; she had to make those muscles work to regain her strength.

Respecting this woman warrior meant a lot of unpleasant things; it was definitely the hardest thing that Legolas had ever learnt in his whole life. Sometimes you had to let the people you love fight for themselves. The elvish constitution did not offer those hardships, but sharing one's existence with humans gave him different perspective.

Men were vulnerable; their time so limited that everything they did was tainted by this crazy hope. Frances was the perfect example of it, and yet Legolas realised that he had never felt so vibrant than by her side. During his time in court his father had told him countless times how being impatient was not the way of the Eldar, those down talks had only managed to fuel his friendship with the rangers.

Now he knew why he was so drawn to them. Humans made the most of their limited time, and Frances in particular lived so intensely that it was breathtaking to follow her state of spirit. She was dancing again now, or at least trying to, and despite the stiff leg her movements were graceful. It was a strange sight, this cloaked woman twirling around the wall like a cat on a roof, one leg unsteady.

Her moods shone through the choreography, once angry, then melancholic, and a moment later joyful. There were so many emotions in her weird dance that Legolas felt his blue eyes water. He was caught off balance, and that's exactly what she did to him. By an unknown magic Frances always managed to destabilise him of his even moods, and the worst part of this is that he craved for those moments.

Those questionings she created called back to life feelings he had not experienced for a long time, a time before he was molded into an heir, a Prince to his people by a demanding father. Frances was a drug to him, every smile, every posture or witty remark touched him with incredible easiness. Suddenly, the surge to join her became too strong and he leapt down from his hideout in silence.

A graceful form landed behind her but Frances did not even flinch as she recognised the discreet brushing of the leather boots and the sweet pine scent that filled the air.

"Checking up on me master elf?" she teased while watching the silvery light caress his vibrant hair.

"Hoping that you would rest was a dream, but watching your dance in the moonlight stands no equivalent."

The young woman stood silent, eyes wide. Did he really mean it, he who was ten times as graceful as she? In truth, she was astonished that such an ethereal being could find her clumsy moves worthy to watch, and express liking in it. Yet, she knew the elf to be ever truthful. Never had she caught him lying.

"Thanks, Legolas," she whispered,

Her voice was trembling, the uneasiness calling forth some uncontrollable emotions. Ever since Edoras, Frances had abandoned reasoning over her feelings and decided to let things go the way they were meant to be. Was she giving up or blessing destiny she did not know. Struggle could not help either of them, and it was not worth it. Death was upon them. Charlie had her love still, albeit of a different kind. Nothing in her past life came close to the incredible pool of sensation that assailed her each time the elf's blue eyes lingered over her face. Never had she felt so alive, so free. It was without precedent.

When the Prince looked at her so intensely, she felt like a willow tree caught in a mighty typhoon.

Legolas could feel her confusion like a taste on his tongue, and it only rendered his more present. None of them moved, and they stayed there like two marble statues as the stubborn wind flapped her cloak behind her. His scent was surrounding her, and Frances breathed in the subtle harmony of pine trees and spices as it engulfed her into a bubble of sweetness. Her hands were getting cold, and she grasped the edge of the cloak to cover her arms.

However, before she could bury them into the grey wool warm fingers encased her own. Frozen in place, Frances held her breath while Legolas hesitatingly offered his other hand. His eyes were so deep, his hair shining like a silvery waterfall. Then he took one step closer, and very soon engulfed her in a hug.

Frances' breath caught in the throat; her eyes closed at once. Legolas felt so warm, his body touching hers intimately, his hand shyly sliding to her waist to embrace her small frame. Sighing, Frances buried her face into his shoulder, relishing in the sweet smell of his tunic. Her cold nose burnt at the contact of his throat, but there was nothing in the world that felt better than his closeness.

In his arms, surrounded by him, she felt safer than she had ever been. For a few blissful moments, she almost forgot that death was coming. And after days of incertitude Frances finally knew that if the road had to end her sole consolation would be to rest by his side. Legolas shuddered, overwhelmed by the raw emotion that coursed through his veins. His slight trembling surprised them both, causing them to separate.

"Are you cold Legolas?"

The way she said his name felt like warm water running over slippery rocks, the sensation of sweetness intense but gone in an instant. There was so much reverence put in this simple statement that it always seemed unique, and the foreign sonorities rolled on her tongue, reminding him of her inaccessibility.

"Nay my lady," he whispered softly, his face confused. "Our kind scarcely feel the cold…"

The fire of her soul was so bright that it blinded him totally, occulting the tranquil aura of the elves in favour of a consuming brasier that he may not survive. But it didn't matter anymore; Legolas had made up his mind and pushed the guilt away. If the lady wanted to be his for the little time they had left to live then he would commit to her in any possible way.

"Come," he said.

Legolas grabbed her hand and pulled her down the wall with infinite care. The movement felt familiar to Frances, it was the same she had had from him at Helm's deep. Stumbling up the paved street as she hopped on her good leg, the young woman could not think about anything else than tha warmth of his fingers encasing hers. Soon enough they reached the stables, and the over-excited elf had his horse saddled before she even passed the doors. Lifting an eyebrow in interrogation, Frances watched as the Prince came to her, his gaze sparkling. A concealed smile lightened his feature, only betrayed by the corner of his beautiful lips and the slight cringing of his eyes.

But he said nothing as he threw her cane away in the stables. Neither did Frances, totally and irrevocably enthralled by the glorious sight of him. Then he reached for her. For a mind-blowing instant Frances was in his arms, breathing the peculiar smell of his silken hair, and a moment later he had her seated across the horse. Then, in an incredible demonstration of skill that would have been impossible to a human body, he was suddenly behind her, his whole body touching her so intimately that she blushed.

"Can you hold?" he asked while giving her a curious look.

"I should be all right"

Legolas nodded, and, tightening his hold on her waist, deposited a single kiss in her hair.

"I will not let you fall," he whispered close to her hear.

Frances shuddered at his closeness, but she felt strangely at ease. When Legolas clicked his tongue to Arod, the horse launched himself on the cobbled streets. They passed the gate at full speed, its gaping hole still opened after the latest battle. Surprised at first, Frances managed to get in rhythm. She was by no means a good rider, but Legolas's flawless movement guided her. Soon enough they were getting outside the city, crossing the fields of Pelennor and heading south. The landscape was surprisingly clear under the moonlight, and they slowed to a canter.

"How well do you know the surroundings, Frances?" asked the elf playfully, his mood cheerful.

"I have never been here before.""

"Never have I"

"Then we will discover it together, as we have done on the long travels that brought us here", she said with a smile.

For about half an hour, Legolas urged Arod to a swift gallop. Frances tried to stay on board, hoping to be at least a little graceful. Each time her body tipped sideways to the weakness in her leg, Legolas pulled her tighter against him. It was exhilarating. The wind in her hair, the strength of his hold, the warmth of his body against hers. Never before had she felt so happily free, even when racing her brother down black slopes on her skis. Eventually, a hill came into view, the blurry sides of its forms appearing under the full moon's light. As they came close to it, Legolas slowed Arod and stopped his steed across a clearing.

Not even bothering to dismount, Legolas scooped the young woman in his arms and jumped down, a little cry of fright escaping her lips at the sudden fall.

"Do you trust me so little that you fear me to let you fall down, Frances?"

The young woman looked up and found his eyes glittering with mischief. He then smiled at her, and the world seemed to lighten up as the fine chiselled lines of his face showed happiness, she had never seen them bear. The glorious sight left her speechless, and she could only smile back with all her soul, the sudden expression warming his heart to the core.

"I trust you with my life, Legolas."

"Then I shall be worthy of it, my lady."

Frances expected him to set her on her feet, but he started walking uphill instead.

"Will you not put me down?"

"There is no clear path. It would be too treacherous for your injured leg. But I would not want to impose if you wish to walk by yourself."

His face was concerned. For her leg or in fear of rejection, she could not discern it. Frances thought about it, and she did so quite thoroughly. In normal circumstances she would have wanted to be strong, and would have chosen the hard way so as not to strain her companion and show that she could take care of herself. However, Legolas seemed to manoeuvre with ease, and she felt like a princess clinging so at his side, his body sharing his ethereal warmth with hers.

"I do not wish to be a burden."

"Do not fear Frances, for you never shall be."

There were so many emotions in his blue eyes that Frances measured the intensity of his affections. The future was unsure, and if she did not die, she could not stay. But for the first time in her life, she was truly happy. The hint of hope that shone in his eyes was enough to swell her heart with undying love.

"Then let us go to wherever your heart yearns. And honestly, your arms are pretty comfortable."

Legolas chuckled quietly, a wide smile plastered on his face.

"At your service, my lady."

As the elf started walking anew, she could for the first time, take the full measure of his graceful moves. He evolved amongst rocks and trees without a noise, careful not to bend her leg more than necessary, and swinging her around branches like she was part of his body. Never had she felt surrounded by so much affection. Craving for his warmth, Frances relaxed and her head naturally came to rest in the crook of his shoulder.

Surprised by her move, Legolas lowered his gaze, and the sigh that greeted him settled his heart with happiness. Frances seemed totally oblivious of the situation, her eyes closed and her face perfectly smooth.

The moonlight reflected her features with a silvery light, enhancing the smile that had crept to her lips a she rested against him. A few wild strands of hair surrounded her reddened cheeks, enlightening the smooth line of her unclenched jaw. For once, and for the first time, Frances looked blissfully happy, her peaceful features radiant under the light of the stars. In this blessed moment, nothing else mattered than her small frame against him.

At last they reached the summit, and Frances opened her eyes anew as he settled her over a wide boulder, careful to find a spot sheltered from the wind. Under the moonlight the hills and plains were revealed, their misty shapes melting under the silver light of the stars. Eyes wide open, Frances contemplated the extended fields of grass cut down by bright reflections marking the Anduin's presence.

Further away stood the mountains of Ithilien, waterfalls shining in the sombre slopes. Could she see them, or were her human eyes too weak to spot the sparks of light in the water ? As Legolas sat beside her, she followed his gaze and stared at the magnificent city of Minas Tirith, the seven levels standing against evil and darkness, their high walls protecting the citadel. The white rocks were bathed in moonlight, the city proudly erected in its mighty glory. Never had Frances seen such ghostly beauty, and she gasped at the sight.

There were no words to express what hope laid in the white city, but the fact that it was still standing was a statement. Aragorn, the King of Gondor, held strong, and his erected city would now fight beside him. It was an illusory thought, but if there was still a bit of hope for this world, it now dwelt in Minas Tirith. Her gaze still fixed on the citadel; Frances felt her cloaked being pulled tighter around her. Then, as unexpected at the glorious sight of the city under moonlight, warm fingers enveloped hers and held her fast. His breath brushed her cheek, his warmth at her back as he crouched beside her.

Frances did not dare removing her eyes from the white city, and so she whispered:

"This is beautiful … there are not words to express it."

"This city is magnificent, but it will never be as stunning as you," answered the elf, his voice so low that she nearly did not hear it.

Her voice trembled as she answered:

"I am but a woman, Legolas."

The elf only pressed her hand and stood up, bringing her to follow him and face the citadel.

"Your will is as strong as this city, and for this I admire you. With your trust you have accomplished things that elves have been unable to for thousands of years, Frances. You have been a beacon and brought hope when there was none left. Your spirit stands pure and true in this darkened world, and for this you are more beautiful than anyone will ever be."

This revelation done, the elf fell silent, and intended to stay so until she gave him a hint of what she wanted him to do. He had laid his heart bare before her, and now waited without haste that she declared her mind to him. However, he did not expect the trembling that started to rake her body, and he suddenly was afraid she would catch death on this windy hill.

"What is wrong?" he cried out.

Then he saw that her cheeks were even redder than before, and that tears glistened across them like pearls of silver under the pale morning sun. Before he could express his distress, his eyes searched for hers.

For Frances, the world ended in this instant. Blue, they were so blue, even in the night his eyes were deeper than any sea. Nothing had ever prepared her to watch into his soul. Her breath came short, her chest aching from the surge of emotions.

Legolas loved her, and in the endless infinity of his soul he offered her everything he was in a promise that would last to eternity. Drowning into his eyes, Frances did not realise that her vision was blurry, and that tears were falling freely across her cheeks. She loved him so much that she thought she would stop breathing.

He too was lost into her gaze, and she smiled at him, her expression awed at the sight of him.

"You are the most beautiful being I was ever given to know, Legolas. Body and soul"

Now he was the one speechless.

"You are, in every way, the best person I have come across in my whole life. And the handsomeness of your face only reflects the beauty of your heart. I fear that I am not worthy of you."

At this, Frances lowered her gaze to the ground. The shock of this statement caught Legolas unaware, and he did not know how to tell her how mislead she was. So without thinking he caressed her cheek with his hand to wash the tears from her skin, and the world melted away as she lifted her face anew to him. He bent down and his silken hair fell all around Frances' face as she breathed in his sweet scent. His lips finally came across hers, and he gently pressed them together, catching hers slowly. The kiss was soft, like the caress of a feather over her skin.

With his height he was towering over Frances' small frame, and he slid an arm behind her waist to hold her against him, their bodies fully touching now. This time, he could linger to enjoy the kiss. The sensation of the young lady melting against him was as sweet as life itself.

When they broke apart, both of them were surprised by the bliss that washed over them at being so closely entwined. Legolas contemplated her awed features as she gazed at him with adoration. And then she was the one to initiate it again, her arms sliding along his chest to get across his shoulders in an attempt to melt totally.

This time her lips engulfed his, and she expertly caressed them with her tongue, very slowly. Stunned at the new sensations that shot across his body, the elf's hand got into her hair, and he crushed her to him with strength as he slid his own tongue into her mouth. He never wanted to pull back, his body fuelled with fire as Frances roamed her lips over his. Wherever she touched him, his body tingled happily, asking for more, begging for more. He could not get enough of her, and he eventually pulled back when he felt that he would lose control totally.

Panting, Legolas buried his face into her hair, and he pressed her against him while trying to calm down his racing heart. He deposited one very chaste kiss on her forehead, and kept his cheek at the top of her head, his hand resting at her nape for what seemed like eternity. Frances was in paradise, and thus she closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of his hair across her face as she breathed in his presence. Legolas felt strong and caring against her, and his warmth spread into her as his glow intensified under the moonlight. She had never felt so happy, but soon enough their situation caught up with her and she started shivering.

"Are you cold?" he asked, his face concerned again.

"Nay Legolas, for you have warmed me up to the core."

Her posture had shifted, her eyes sending him a sad look. Legolas swallowed nervously, letting his hands travel along the length of her arms to gather her hands into his.

"What is wrong, meleth?"

The young lady sighed, and it broke her heart to say so but she knew that elves committed for life, and she could not be allowed to get his love since she would never be eternal.

"I cannot be yours Legolas, as much as I wish to be. There are so many things that will stand in the way."

Legolas's heart suddenly plummeted in his chest.

"What can you mean, meleth? I love you, surely nothing can be stronger than this."

'Unless you don't love me back,' he thought, and dread seized his heart. Frances squeezed his hands tightly, her whole body trembling now.

"You are an elf, and I a maiden… If I survive this war, I will not exist for long, such a short time to your years… And, as you probably know, my world will call me back."

A glimmer of hope cut through the haze of his mind.

"Is that all?"

"Isn't that enough?" she retorted. "Everything keeps us apart. My origins and yours, your responsibilities, my world!"

Legolas shook his head, a glimmer of determination in his eyes.

"No. It does not matter what awaits ahead now, for I know where my heart lies and nothing could ever change this. I love you, for eternity and beyond."

Frances' tears were falling anew, the emotion too overwhelming to be kept in check.

"How I love you Legolas, I have loved you from the first day I met you on the bridge of Rivendell. But I cannot accept to condemn you to fade. It rips my heart to think of your death."

Legolas's eyes closed in relief. She loved him ! He was so caught up in this revelation that he let her slip from his grasp.

Intend on bringing him to reason, Frances was deep in thought. No matter how much she wanted to be with him, she could not accept the suffering she would cause. There was not much of her resistance left when her resolution came to show him the truth, but she let the angry part of her take the reins in a desperate plea:

"Why would you love me Legolas? I am but a human who will never be as bright or as strong as one of your kin. I am a mortal and cannot ever match elven beauty or grace. I am prone to thickness and age. I am not worthy of a being like you."

Shocked by this rejection, Legolas could only stare at her, totally dumbfounded that she could not see everything that she was in her full glory. His answer came from the heart as he watched her tears fall.

"You are freedom Frances. I love your will and your determination. In your smile I see love, and in your eyes linger so many emotions that I cannot fathom. You are whole and intense, living every second as if it were the last one. I love you because you are your own master, because when you are here, I can dare anything … you allow no one to rule you, and do not bend to any authority. You are free, and by being so you had me taste the sweetness of it."

Frances shook her head violently. What he loved in her was just a result of her own upbringing.

"Legolas … there is no glory in being free. I was born and raised this way. I wasn't caged in court with expectations from a King's life. There is nothing extraordinary about me. In my world, we are all…"

She stopped there, no daring to say the word "alike" that would mark her first lie to him. No, she was nothing close of usual in her world either, because everybody was so different, and her even more because of her experiences of life, death and friendship. How could she make him understand that her apparent freedom was gained by inheritance as much as a trait of her character?

This world was so different that it clouded his judgement. Back on earth nobody would have praised her for this, well not that much anyway. Here it seemed that her frank character had elevated her to the rank of a goddess to the eyes of a being so perfect she hardly dared speaking to him.

"There are so many things about you that are fascinating meleth nín. You have taught me how to live after so many years of wandering. For this alone I owe you many thanks."

"Legolas, you are of elven kind, the deadliest archer of your people, and the most beautiful and bright being I have ever met. You deserve a stunning Elleth at your arm that will sail with you to the undying lands… You deserve somebody that will love you for eternity. Will you not search for your match?"

The compliment touched his heart with more strength than he thought possible. She had never voiced those thoughts, even though he had been able to read in her eyes much more than she had ever dared saying. From the beginning Aragorn had pointed him to this, that she was intimidated by him, but never had he realised the extend of her admiration. But as well as she asked him not to worship her for her inherited freedom, he found that there was nothing extraordinary with him since he was born an elf.

His voice raised in despair, attempting to get her to accept their fate.

"Do you not see? You are my match! The air I breathe is fresher because you're here, and there is nowhere I would love to be if you're not by my side… When you look at me I feel whole, like I have been missing a part of myself for so long. In every expression of your face emotions threaten to cast me like a giant wave. You are life, and beside you I feel like a newborn."

"Legolas…"

Frances shook her head, but the elf would not be deterred. Gathering her hand in his, he knelt before her.

"Meleth nín, I beg you to accept me beside you, never have I felt so alive, please, do not reject me!"

His eyes were so stunningly blue as he gazed into hers, the stars dancing inside them. She would have wanted nothing more than jump in his arms and love him for eternity, and her heart was so swollen with grief and anguish that she felt like it would jump out of her chest. Seeing him kneel before her was heresy, but for a while Frances could not find the strength to react, and she instead stared helplessly into his stunningly beautiful eyes. And then she dropped clumsily beside him. His arms circled her, steady her on the rocky ground and she shook her head.

Frances was angry at herself. She loved him like the sun loved the moon, and feared that he could not find happiness. She knew that when the time came she would have to leave. And in the end, even if she sent all rules to hell and decided to stay in middle earth, which she would never even consider given her responsibilities, friends and families waiting for her on the other side, she would die a mortal and leave her ever young and flawless husband to grieve and die from a broken heart. She could not condemn him to this while his life was meant to be eternally happy in the presence of his beloved. There was no escape from this.

His arms supported her as she cried, his affection overwhelming. He held her so fiercely, and she heard his melodic voice nearly singing.

"Allow me to love you like the princess you are."

"But this would be only temporary Legolas do you not see? So short in the life of an elven prince?"

Anguish constricted her throat and she bent forward, one hand coming up to her heart. Her chest was aching from the choice she had to make.

"I will accept temporary," he said, hoping to soothe her. "I am already ready to lose you since you are mortal. I have tarried too long over this, from Dunarrow to the waters of the Anduin, I have pondered all those possibilities. And now my decision is made."

"But what if it were in a few weeks? A few days? I will be called back to my world and you will be left alone."

At this moment, Legolas lifted her chin with his soft hands, plunging his eyes into hers. Helpless, she was at the mercy of his soul.

"Frances, I am ready to lose you tomorrow in battle. Time does not matter anymore."

A frown came to her face at the truth of his words. For what they knew the war was desperately close, and only a miracle would allow them to be victorious. She would most likely die there, and by his side she wanted to do so.

"But you are immortal."

It was but a whisper coming from her mouth. Frances knew that her soul had surrendered to his, and her heart jumped in delight at the perspective while her reason wept for him.

"I can be killed in battle."

Frances mustered whatever strength of mind she had left in a plea.

"Legolas. I could not live to know you have died from a broken heart on my account… I cannot allow this!"

"What If I promised to live on? If you wish me to, I will sail to the undying lands and spend my days there until my time has passed."

Suddenly, hope exploded in her chest.

"Could you? Could you do this?"

His face was so close to her as they spoke, still kneeling on the cold stone but not daring to move, and his sweet breath brushed her cheek as he reassured her.

"I have been living for many a year on my own, and I think that I can still find joy in life if I know that we have shared everything we could. Gimli will be there and Aragorn and Arwen for a while. If we survive this battle then I will linger there until they are gone, and then sail to the undying lands."

Her hazel eyes searched his, and he could not refrain from finding them stunning as her features shone with resolve.

"Make this a promise."

"I promise that I shall live on in middle earth or sail to the west."

Releasing a breath she had been holding, Frances collapsed into the elf's arms and hugged him tight, fearing that if she let go he would disappear. They had come to an understanding, and this was the best she could do to protect him from this fate. Being miserable during the little time they had left would not change anything to the situation. It was too late to save him and her heart.

Maybe in time, Frances could forgive herself for loving him so much since her presence had been his doom. However, the wildly beating heart of her elven lover taught her that although little time was left, much happiness could be taken from it.

Legolas held her tight for a while, and then he slowly rose to his feet, dragging the young woman with him as if she were a bag of feathers. His arms securely fastened around her waist and shoulder, he could not help but brush the tears away with his hand, his fingers lingering a bit longer on her delicate cheek.

"Amin mela lle," he murmured to her before kissing her softly.

Frances knees buckled from under her at the sudden display of affection, but it did not matter since he supported all of her weight. Engulfed in his scent and warmth, the young woman melt into his touch and slid her arms behind his shoulders, seizing his nape. Nothing more existed as the cold wind disappeared along with all the noises and lights of the moon and stars.

Lost in his arms, Frances could only surrender to him and kiss him back, fervently assuring him of her undying love and admiration. The embrace got more fervent, and Legolas could not accept for it to end as he came back again and again, brushing her lips one moment and literally kissing her soundly the next.

Eventually, the lovers pulled back, and they stood motionless for a while, she with her head on his chest, and him pulling her close to him, as if he was afraid that she might disappear in a flash of blinding light. It was time to get back to the city, seeing how the wind passed through the young lady's cloak. Lifting her up in a swift motion, he carried her to the bottom of the hill and onto the horse.

Frances was exhausted, the strong emotions having strained her as much as the cold. In the prince arms she felt safe, and when he pulled his own cloak around her she snuggled against his body.

Smiling, Legolas kissed the top of her head and started to sing softly. Soon enough, the young woman was asleep in his arms, and he made his way back to the citadel with slow measured steps as the object of his happiness slept soundly against him, trusting him with her life.

It was a very unusual sight that greeted Aragorn as he went through the city in search of the elf. Giving an absent look to the fields of Pelennor before getting back to his tent, his keen eyes caught a hint of a glowing form on a white horse. The inner light of the elf was so bright that it reminded him of Arwen the first time he came upon her in the woods.

The glow of the moon itself was shadowed by the elf. When finally Legolas met him near the second gate, the young woman sound asleep in his arms, Aragorn could not help but smile. The prince's face was like a jewel, flawless and peaceful, and happier than he had ever seen him.

"We roamed the hills of Pelennor, he whispered, casting a longing look to the red head. She is exhausted."

"I am happy for you, mellon nín" simply said the King with a bright smile.

And then he turned away, and Legolas took Frances to her chambers, and laid her down. When he pulled the covers over her, little fingers grabbed his wrist. Her features were laden with sleep.

"Stay with me, please?"

The elf nodded.

"Forever," he murmured in her ear.

As Frances drifted back to a dreamless sleep, Legolas laid down beside her and engulfed her frail body with his arms, swearing that he would protect the young woman for as long as she drew breath. And then he watched her, getting some bits of elvish rest during the night as his mind wandered through the fields of happiness.