Hey ! Back for another chapter. The end is near… well, the end of this installement of course. I must thank all the people who reviewed, you made my day ! I rather enjoye writing this. It turns out that with the quest and all, our heroes barely had the time to get to know each other. Would would have guessed that Frances loved the sea beyond all ? I hope you enjoy this little moment of mirth. Cheers.

Special PS to Leelee02: I could have dubbed this chapter the Power of Love in tribute to your fiction :D

Dinner was a quiet affair, yet merry among the kin of Dol Amroth. Now recovered, Frances had been attired in one of Lothiriel's dresses of clear blue and upon asking where Imrahil's daughter was, had been answered that she had left last year to marry Eomer, the new king of the Mark. There was much for Frances to learn; many tidings, ill or bad, awaited her after three years of absence. Legolas had tried his best to cover the main events; Aragorn's coronation and marriage, the burial of Theoden King, Eowyn's nuptials to Faramir, steward of Gondor, the skirmishes to repel the remaining orcs and the hobbits'd adventures as they found their home surrendered to Saruman. But of the rest, she knew next no nothing. And no amount of comfort could release the guilt that dwelt in the pit of her stomach. She was loath to admit how sad she felt to have missed all those events. But in truth, she also knew, deep down, that her absence was keenly felt, and had cast a shadow over the fellowship's members.

Yet there she sat, enjoying a marvellous dish of white fish heavenly prepared, trying to catch up on Arda's news with Prince Imrahil, his children and his wife. Said wife looked quite older than Imrahil himself, and the contrast of their apparent age sent Frances into spiralling thoughts. What would she look like, in fifty years from now, lingering at the arm of her ever-young Prince? But the woman was far from stupid, catching the Frances's startled gaze.

- "Do not let Imrahil deceive you, Lady Frances, for he is 65 years of age already."

- "Age does not seem to affect your fighting abilities, my lord," answered Frances in a jest.

His wife smiled, and let her hand rest on his fingers. Prince Imrahil caught it bestowing a kiss upon her knuckles. His gaze was so full of love that it warmed Frances' heart. Still, the concept of age seemed quite messed up in middle earth, so she asked.

- "I remember that Legolas said you had elven blood. Are you also blessed with a long life like the Dunedain?"

Imrahil laughed slightly.

- "Nay, but our ancestors came from Númenor as well. You might be surprised to learn that our King is ten years my senior, and will outlast me by nary a century. But I might live to be a hundred in good health."

Something akin to longing passed across Legolas's features, and he smiled at Frances, his intend reassuring. Yet his eyes did not lie. The ocean of his gaze was tinted with sadness. Needless to say, that Imrahil wasn't fooled.

- "But if that interests you, let me tell you about Mithrellas, my ancestor, an elven maiden who fell in love with Imrazôr."

And so Frances learnt about this silvan elf who, after getting lost in the woods of Belfalas a thousand years ago, had wed Imrazôr, borne him three children, and disappeared once more never to be found. Legolas added a few details, being familiar with the legends as Mithrellas was a sylvan elf from Lothlorien who accompanied Nimrodel to the bay of Belfalas to sail to the undying lands. Once more, Frances was stunned to realise that although Imrahil and his kin considered this fact a legend, many generations having passed in between, Legolas had been alive at the time of Nimrodel's demise. She could not wrap her head around it. And most of all, couldn't accept the impact of her passage into the long life of her beloved elf. Three thousand years he had walked the paths of Arda, neither being truly happy, nor unhappy. And now what would become of him when she died? In less than a hundred years?

And for now, no more was said about Mithrellas and Imrahil's elven blood, for dessert was upon them. And what a dessert! Oranges and almond cakes baked with honey, all adorned with whipped cream and pistachio nuts. Frances' eyes bulged, thanking profusely their hosts for this fantastic treat. The lady of the house received her praise with grace, her smile widening at the sweet hum that came from Frances' left. This is how the young woman discovered that her husband – wow husband, they truly were married now! - the infamous best archer of middle earth, had a sweet tooth. His eyes sparkling, his sensual lips coated with honey, his glow radiating sold him out, and their bond was literally humming. The smile he bore as the cakes disappeared from his plate was so cute that Frances melted all over again. In this blessed moment, Legolas was once more an elfling. She observed him as he tasted the pastries, sometimes giving him a new one to try, and this wonderful feeling brightened her heart, lightening her whole being at seeing him like this. His contentment was priceless, akin to the purring of a cat, and Frances realised that there was nothing in the world that would prevent them from being happy together. No matter the consequences. In this very moment, nothing else mattered.

Amused, Imrahil couldn't help but tease his friend.

- "If the guard of the citadel had shared with you a plate of pastries, I have no doubt your threats would have been cast aside!"

Legolas gave him a levelled stare, a playful smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. Yet, there were many frowns around the table from the lack of understanding. Frances gathered then that this was a private joke between the elf and the prince.

- "It would have defeated the purpose," Legolas answered seriously while peeling an orange.

Imrahil burst out laughing this time, his cheerful manner startling his sons across the table. Was it acceptable for their father to laugh openly at an elf lord? Elphir had, like his father, fought alongside the elf in the war of the ring, but still. Such familiarity. And Imrahil didn't back down as the elf's gaze bore holes into his.

Eventually, Frances had enough of the staring contest between the two princes.

- "Care to share with the class?"

Legolas blinked, while the others only watched her curiously; they were not used to her mannerism and had therefore, not understood her meaning. But her husband knew, even when he didn't get the cultural reference, he always caught the idea.

- "I will step down, and leave the telling to our host. I am afraid I might not be the best story teller in this particular case."

- "Thank you, my lord Legolas, for your kind words. And thus the burden falls to me once more, to inform you of the day I have met the lady Frances and the King after the dreadful battle of the Pelennor, and how, as I climbed the latest level of the citadel with her unconscious form in my arms…"

This is how Frances learnt that Legolas had been here that day, and brought the light into her nightmare for her to escape Sauron. And threatened the guards of the citadel until they trembled under their livery. The story brought a radiant smile on her face, and her heart sang as they bid good night to their host, and decided to walk down to the beach as a midnight treat.

There were hundreds of steps on the cliff side that joined the citadel to the sea. Under the moonlight, the scenery was bathed in silver. So peaceful, so beautiful as the shore dove into the sea, foam forming as the waves lapped at the rocks. Legolas kept her arm locked in his at all times, worried that she might slip and fall to her death. Frances had always been sure-footed, and he knew how she had climbed the cliffs of Helm's deep without fault, but her muscles were still sore, and the fever had just ceased. His awe of the sea held no equivalent, and he acknowledged once more the words of the lady for no point of view over the forest could ever equal the beauty of the shores. Yet, his heart didn't long for him to sail as it used to. With Frances by his side, he felt utterly complete. There was nowhere else he wanted to be, as if her presence quenched his need.

Eventually, once their feet had reached the sand and the waves were but a little further, Frances paused, and turned to him.

- "I have felt you, that day. You were here as I slept, weren't you?"

Legolas nodded.

- "You saved me from a horrible nightmare. I think Sauron had found me. But your presence, your light allowed me to escape it."

She was trembling now, probably from the memory, and the elf gathered her slender form in his arms. She fit perfectly against him, her head against his chest, her fingers spread on his back.

- "I wanted to ensure you would be all right."

- "Then you did. Thank you, mon amour"

Legolas smiled at the nickname. My love, in her mother tongue. He had not studied a new language in thousands of years, this one would probably prove to be fun learning.

- "Frances. There is something I must tell you, something about our bond."

The young lady lifted her head to meet his gaze. With the full moon, her hazel eyes caught the light like jewels. Her features were so finely carved, dark and silver playing with the lines of her jaw as she awaited for him to speak. Yet, her face were anxious, always fearing rejection. He would have to put her at ease. After a few years, she would probably get used to being loved like the princess she was.

- "Do not worry meleth, you are carved in my heart now. Always my soul will yearn for yours. And I wonder how this bond we share is so strong since you are human…"

Frances' eyes widened slightly.

- "Is it not supposed to be so?"

- "Nay. Arwen told me that she does not feel Aragorn's feelings as well as I did feel yours, even before we … completed the bond. It does not diminish the love we share, but the bond is an elven thing"

Frances frowned, taken aback by Legolas' revelations. She could not make heads or tails of what he meant.

- "How can it be?"

His hand caressed her back slowly, and she shuddered at his touch.

- "Frances. When we joined for the first time, our bond completed, and our Feär intertwined entirely. And in your Feä, I felt something akin to the light of my people. I am quite sure now that somewhere within you, the inheritance of the eldar shines."

- "How is this even possible?"

Legolas noted how she did not even doubt him and it warmed his heart. She trusted his instincts and feelings, as he trusted her intuitions.

- "I have no idea, and do not know who could possibly enlighten us. Now that the lady of the light is gone…"

- "Galadriel is gone?"

Legolas should have been taken aback by the lack of proper formalism in her address of the lady but he knew that Frances' society was much less prone to titles that his. There would be time for her to get used to middle earth rankings. And her eyes were wide with shock; one more capital information that had not been discussed yet.

- "Yes, she sailed with Lord Elrond, Gandalf and Frodo to the undying lands."

Each new name elicited a wince, and eventually, tears pooled into the young lady's eyes, unexpected guests that left Legolas speechless. During their quest, he had scarcely seen her cry. She had always been so stoic, so strong. But now that she could rely on him, her vulnerable side was set free. And even if it was unsettling, he loved her more for it. It spoke volume of her trust. Gathering the young woman in his arms, he caressed her hair as she sobbed against his tunic.

- "I never … thought I…. would …. never …. see them again"

- "I understand meleth. It is a great sadness for me as well that you could not be here to enjoy the passage of the fourth age. That you could not be by my side, with me. It has been very cruel indeed."

And his heart broke once more at the memory of the shell he was when the crown was set upon Aragorn's brow, his dearest friend, and as he was incapable of rejoicing when he wed Arwen. He let a few tears escape his eyes as well, deciding that Frances would love him all the same, scars and weaknesses included.

Frances had had enough of staying in bed, and today was the day when she borrowed one of Legolas's overlong tunics, and decided to throw herself in the sea. It was chilly, of course, but she couldn't give a dam as she played with the waves under the blinding sunlight.

Many similar days followed, Frances' skin becoming darker as they stayed on the beach and rode around the countryside of Dol Amroth. Like any newlywed couple, they enjoyed sightseeing along the wonderful coast, stopping in the local market to buy oranges and honey cakes, buying all sorts of items that made Legolas laughed with delight, and made love every so often. A dozen days passed in this blissful state. By then, Frances had unpacked the bag, and bought tunics, breeches and dresses fit for travel. She had found, with quite some emotion, a photo album of her family and childhood to share with Legolas, three packs of antibiotics should the need arise, a little lingerie that was much appreciated by her new husband, and a dozen tablets of chocolate. That was the experience of Legolas's long life! With his sweet tooth, he moaned in delight.

Very soon, the chocolate was gone, except for one tablet they kept for the King of Gondor, and one for the twins. It took much willpower for Legolas to leave than one be, even more so that resisting the ring of power! Frances had been relieved beyond measure to learn that the twins had become the masters of Rivendell. It meant, at least, that she would see them again. For the moment though, she spent all her time getting reacquainted with her new husband. They shared more stories than they had in the time of the fellowship. And Legolas, always eager to learn, never ceased to ask questions, on cultural references and history of earth, on physics, astronomy and biology. Frances was eager to share, and very happy that she had been a thorough student else she might have answered 'I don't know' more than 70% of the time. Saying that Legolas was fascinated by her knowledge – quite common given her background studies in geology – was an understatement.

And every day, they bathed in the beautiful sea of Dol Amroth. Today was no exception. Yet, the wind had switched, bringing stronger waves and the scent of the sea right into their room.

- "Come, my love! The sea will be thunderous today."

Legolas had followed, as always, his little princess in a white tunic. He knew that, by the time she dived into the sea, the cloth would be almost transparent. He didn't mind; the display of her body for him to cherish was as sweet as it was exciting. The rumble of the sea, though, stopped him in his tracks. Never before had the ocean seemed so powerful. Seeing his startled face, Frances turned to him.

- "The wind has changed, mon amour. Today, the sea will be stronger, and the water warmer. You need to be careful not to be caught in a rip current. Stay close to me. And remember to dive deep if you feel like you cannot compete,"

Legolas nodded. As an elf, he was a very capable swimmer. Yet, the sea was something brand new to him. Of currents he knew, because Greenwood's rivers held their share of strength. But the whole concept of rip current, and spheres of influence of a wave was new to him. Frances knew a lot about the ocean. When she dove inside its waters, it felt like she was becoming a siren, floating more than swimming as the sea led her around. He took her warnings at heart. Where she came from, many people drowned because of their ignorance, or their pride. As she held her hand to him, Legolas curled his fingers around hers, and let her lead into the waves.

The young lady was right. The water was warmer, but the current much stronger. Many times, they had to dive into the waves, hardly emerging before they had to go under again such was their power. Yet he was still stronger than she was, and the current didn't affect him as much as they did. She didn't seem to mind, though, for she was attuned to the water as he was to the trees. For the corner of his eye, the wood elf watched her as she turned around, letting the waves splash her hair to avoid being dragged. Legolas was in awe of her new body, for she had gained a few pounds in their years apart, and it suited her well. She was perfect, perfect for him. Way curvier than an elf, with more meat and yet firm, the roundness of her bottom, the width of her hips more pronounced, accentuating her slender waist. Her golden skin was kissed by the sun, and he could see her full breasts below now soaked tunic. His tunic.

And the way she moved was so aquatic. Frances truly was magnificent in the water, her body so lithe as she played in the ocean, unimpressed by its display of power. Her hair, braided tight in the morning, was already losing the battle. Her fiery strands swam around her face, falling on her back when she turned to face the ocean like a spirit of the sea. He had known Frances in many life-threatening situations, injured or not, smiling or brooding, terrified and elated. But never before had she seemed so happy. Seeing her like this, Legolas knew that he had to settle closer to the shore. Water was her element, she relished in it. A shadow passed upon his features. They had so much to learn about each other, so much he didn't know. What if, in the end, she didn't like what she discovered of him?

- "Legolas!"

Her shout called him back to reality. Too late. The thunderous wave that came crashing upon him was twice a high as he was. Legolas dived, confident that he would emerge on the other side. His foot though, caught in the rolling foam. The elf swam harder, trying to break free from the hold of the ocean. To no avail. His whole leg was dragged further behind, and suddenly he went head over tail in the sand, rolled around by the wave. The horrible sensation of being a rag doll greeted him as he lost all sense of ground and sky. The urge to break free from sent him in panic, and Legolas kicked wildly around. The water though, did not relinquish its hold over him. His head collided with hard sand, and suddenly, he was dragged out by a strong grip. Legolas spluttered, and took a long gulp of air, but Frances set him on his feet and urged him forward.

- "Quick, quick, quick!"

Being them, a huge wave was building up. They were in the intermediate place that she had warned him about, nor far enough from the shore to avoid the breaking waves, nor close enough to resist their strength. Regaining his senses, Legolas ran to the beach, the sound of the huge waterfall closing in. And then, just as it released its mighty strength, Frances jumped in the braking wave, dragging him upwards.

- "Stay afloat," she cried, her hand holding his wrist firmly.

They managed to swim over it, somehow, while their legs got caught in the roll. And then they were on the ground again, and moving towards the shore. Eventually, they collapsed on the beach, and Frances started laughing.

- "That's the first time I see your hair askew," she hiccupped. "Now I know what it takes to get an elf dirty. Roll them in the washing machine."

As she chuckled merrily, Legolas watched her, his ego bruised.

- "Had you not distracted me, I would not have been caught unawares," he said, pointing to the transparent tunic.

His vexation sobered Frances, and she touched his face with her fingers.

- "Do not worry mon amour. The ocean could not be more majestic than you gaze, nor the sun brighter than your features."

Legolas had to refrain not to smile. He loved it when she broke into poetry, especially when she expressed, he admiration for him. But she wouldn't get away from mocking him so easily.

- "Flattery will lead you nowhere."

Frances smiled then, and her entire face lit up.

- "I do not flatter, only state the truth as I see it. You make the world brighter by your very presence. And this little misfortune happens to the best of us. Did I ever tell you how my father got dragged over fifty feet into a huge wave? He was such a light weight! Or how my older brother bruised his ribs by being rolled over on a rocky beach?"

- "Pray tell, my lovely wife. I always enjoy a good story, and will endeavour to untangle my hair as you do so. I believe some shells might be stuck in it,"

Frances laughed then, and sat, motioning for him to sit between her legs, his back facing her.

- "Come, mon amour. I will work as I relate my story."

And as she recounted how, in the south of Spain, her brother and herself got thrown out from a set or rocks by a huge wave, her hands delicately working on his tangled strands. Her bare legs, settled beside him, were covered by the golden sand, her skin bordering on a shiny caramel. They were round, and firm, and so exotic, calling to his fingers to caress them and feel their warmth. He chuckled at hearing her predicament as she got scratches on her bottom and struggled with her panties for days. He had just, after all, learnt what panties looked like by finding the lacy ones her other self had left in the bag. But then, Frances' voice wavered, and suddenly, she was setting her head onto his back. Her body trembled, yet she refused to let him see the tears running down her face.

Never again would she see her brothers, her family, her friends? Never again would she taste an ice cream, watch a stupid program on TV, or wear a bikini? Never again would she hug her grandparents, her neighbours, her cousin? Her favourite books? Lost forever. Her cultural references? Shakespeare, Alexandre Dumas, Jean-Jacques Goldman, Beethoven and Mylène Farmer? Ignored and misunderstood. Her culture, her way of speech, her souvenirs her own for the remainder of her days. No one would ever make a joke about this teacher they had in school, she would never set her eyes upon a computer, or play a video game, nor read a silly magazine. She'd never hang a poster in her room, nor wear cheap jewellery exchanged with Cécile, nor send her a 20-page letter to relate her latest gossip about high school. So much was different here. Even the ocean, devoid of periodic movement as the moon, being a ship and not a planet, couldn't possibly create tides.

She had left everything she knew behind, everything to be with Legolas. The enormity of what she had done was eventually settling on her shoulder. Such a weight! So heavy, so huge that her breath came short. The dam had broken, bringing forth all the regrets, all the pain of saying goodbye to her old life, to her family. As she sobbed openly now, Legolas turned around and hugged her fiercely. Never before had he seen such despair, her cries heart wrenching as her breath became ragged. Frances' heart hurt, her chest constricted as she realised there was no turning back. This was no vacation, no honeymoon with her beloved. And her family would live and die without ever knowing who she had become. Without even knowing she had wed the Prince of Greenwood the great. And it hurt like hell.

Eventually, her sobs subsided; she was spent, but the tears kept coming. Legolas kissed her brow, and shushed her gently. A lump had formed in his throat, for he knew what was in Frances' heart. Her pain oozed through their bond, wave of anguish crashing in her chest, stronger than the ocean, its power so great that it struck him speechless. She had left her world behind, as he would have done for her. He knew how difficult this could be. Swallowing the pain, Legolas kissed her head anew, caressing her hair in a gentle move.

- "You need to mourn, meleth, for all that is lost."

She did not look at him, nodding her approval instead. And he lifted her in his arms, and carried her all the way to Dol Amroth, bathed her and tucked her into bed. This night, she didn't utter a single word before falling into a restless sleep. And Legolas prayed the Valar that she would not be angry at him for failing to join her in her own world.