Blue sparks in woodland realm

Chapter 6: A promise to the sun

A/N: I own nothing except my mistakes.

By chance or miracle, Aragorn had returned to them. Scratched and injured, yes, but alive and well, and bearing some terrible news. On their way were thousands of Uruk-hais, waging for war, with little time to spare for them to prepare.

They had taken measures, so that every man or boy, old enough to carry a weapon, would join in battle. It was a horrible measure to take, but in order to protect the shelter they had come for, it had been a necessary evil to partake.

"My heart sings to know you're alive," Erynèth said, approaching Aragorn as he finished his conversation with Théoden. At this Aragorn smiled at her, a squeeze on her shoulder with a muddied hand. "I would not dare leave you in a time like this," he pledged, then looked over his shoulder.

Following his gaze, she saw him, standing in the corner, his eyes watching from afar, carefully, like a hawk looking for its prey down below. "I'll leave you two to it," Aragorn said, then let his hand slip off as he nodded at Legolas, before leaving the room for the two of them.

Clearing her throat, she did not know what to expect. It was clear he wished to talk to her. But about what? They had, after all, a war to prepare.

"There is a darkness in this night," Legolas spoke softly, barely audible to the human ear. "And my heart fears for what it might never get to know."

Erynèth, fearing where this conversation was headed, hoped to find an easy way out. "We do not have long to prepare, it would be best to use the time we have now," she tried to reason, but it was enough to get him walking, swift in his steps as he easily closed the distance.

"Tell me, before I might not see another day," Legolas said, his voice still soft, as his fingers moved upwards, hesitant, as he carefully placed them upon her cheek, the tips caressing as he trailed them down her cheekbones, down to her chin, until they fell off and landed next to his side again, "tell me why it is you have left."

"Your heart is still full of dread, your mind entangled in the bitterness of an unsaid farewell," Erynèth spoke, her words almost getting caught in the back of her throat at his magnifying stare, "yet I do not wish to part like this."

With that she turned around, hoping to let him go in peace, to not have to burden his heart with the truth of why she had left him so abruptly four hundred years ago, without as much as a farewell, as much as a reason.

The sharpness of a drawn arrow caught her ears, halting her in her steps, making her squint her eyes as her lips parted in disbelief. "You dare to pull a bow on me, meleth?" Erynèth challenged, using the nickname 'love' she had always given him before.

Not a waver in his breath was heard when he kept his arms lifted. "Speak now," Legolas said, "or lose me forever."

Erynèth closed her eyes, feeling the tightening around her heart as the day she had dreaded had now come near. Within her departure she had hoped that she had lived through the worst part. The leaving. Yet, to find him again, so unexpected, hurt more than leaving in the first place.

Slowly, she turned around, and watched as he lowered his bow, tidying it away on his back, his face emotionless.

"I do not know what is worse," Erynèth spoke honestly, "losing you forever, or telling you the truth."

A storm of voices were heard outside, as masses of people kept passing by, panicked, and worried, yet at this very moment, all Erynèth could hear were the shaken breaths by the Elf in front of her, one whom she had once pledged her love to, her devotion, her loyalty.

"You would hate me for the truth, like the snow melts before the sun, like the sun moves before the moon," Erynèth said, trying to think of how she would tell him the truth, for she had never given it a thought before.

Legolas, staying unwavered, shook his head at her. "Tell me why you have left," he asked again, his voice cold and controlled.

"A im, ú-'erin veleth nîn," ("Do I not have your love?") He asked again, this time his voice rising slightly, as his eyebrows furrowed together, his eyes squinting, as if trying to make sense of it all.

"Gerich meleth nîn," ("You have my love,")Erynèth said, licking her lips as her eyes jumped about the place.

"Then tell me why it is you left!" Legolas bellowed, his voice snidy, his face cold.

Legolas was an Elf, true to heart, faithful to the end, and compassionate without borders. But when one would cross that line, he could become the world's most cold-hearted predator, without a care in the world, without consideration, without pity, without love.

Erynèth feared she would end in that category. That everything that had once been warm and full of love, would soon turn cold and spiteful. That what they had, had been without cause.

"I never wanted to leave you!" Erynèth said, her voice raising as well, as she tried to get a glimpse of their previous love into his eyes, any sign that he still cared.

"And yet you did!" Legolas said, his voice turning angry. "Am man?" ("Why?")

"My heart has grown resentful, to all that has once been good since you have left me," Legolas went on, his hands fluttering as he tried to explain. "I have wondered every day if there had not been something I could have done to make you stay." At this his voice broke, though his lips remained bitter.

"I wanted to stay," Erynèth said, her voice growing softer, as her hand fumbled for her necklace, "I had wanted to marry you, like you had asked me."

At this his eyes began to grow glossy, searching her face desperately for any other kind of information. "Legolas, I would have done anything to stay and love you, and be your wife," she said, smiling sadly, not able to look him in the eye, to see the hurt.

"Your father," Erynèth said, regaining her breath, though was hesitant to continue. Glancing up, she saw the confliction in his eyes. "What about my father?"

"He had no such wishes like yours or mine," Erynèth admitted, feeling a rather heavy weight lift off her heart, for she had finally spoken the truth aloud. "He had forbidden me to marry you, Legolas, for he ought you too young."

At this Legolas's face turned angry, but not so much only to her, but to his father as well. "He wouldn't have," Legolas tried to say, but his words died out, realising that his father, was, in fact, capable of such a thing.

"Yet, why not tell me?" Legolas asked, his eyes glued to the ground, as if he was seeking answers hidden below. "Why not tell me you would leave?"

Erynèth shook her head. "I went to see you that night," she said, earning her his gaze. "I wanted to tell you, even be as bold to ask you to run away with me." At this she smiled sadly. "And then I realized, that perhaps he had been right, perhaps with time you'd find yourself a lovely wife from the woodland realms. Who would not go on parades to fight within any battle she could find, but to rule her land, and to be home when you'd return."

It was true. It had been something that had made Thranduil worried, too. He had ought her not capable of being a wife, despite their age. A woman fighting in battle, was no lady, it was but a mere bastard warrior.

"I did not leave you because I did not love you, meleth nîn," Erynèth spoke, this time with more conviction, wanting to tell him the truth, and nothing but the truth this time, "I left because I loved you too much, and I wanted you to live a better life, even if that meant it would not be with me."

Legolas shook his head after a while of remaining quiet, his blue eyes piercing through hers, his cheekbones even more defined than what she had left him years ago, much more mature, richer in nature.

He looked betrayed, but most of all confused, perhaps as to why it had happened to him. As to why he had not been told before.

"It was not your choice to make, or even my father's, as to whom I love, and to whom I give my heart to." Legolas said, his voice having grown soft, his eyes travelling down to her chest, until his fingers traced the ornament.

"My heart has wept each day you have been gone, meleth nîn," Legolas breathed, stepping closer as he wrapped the golden rose into his hand, his face pained as he kept his eyes fixated onto the necklace. It had been given to her the day he had proposed to her, a token as a reminder of his love, of what was, and what more was soon to come.

Erynèth leaned into his touch, though he immediately let go of her necklace, and took a step back. "I understand if you wish for my departure, and I will do so in shame," she said, taking him into consideration.

Legolas held her gaze, his head tilted a little to the side as his lips were slightly parted. "It would be more merciful to dagger me now, then to leave me ever again," he spoke earnestly, this time more confident, as he squared his shoulders.

Though her heart grew warm, and her fingers began to itch, she still felt burdened by the words once said to her. "A bastard warrior does not belong to a king to be," Erynèth uttered, repeating what was once said to her.

Looking rather taken aback, and feeling rather ridiculous at those words, he shook his head solemnly. "My father's wishes have often outstretched mine, and not will it be the first, to go against them."

Erynèth smiled sadly as she trailed her fingers over his arm, moving them gently upwards, until they would rest against the warm beating of his chest. "I hope, then, that in time, you would trust your heart with me again, for I would never leave it again."

Legolas reached his own hand upwards, resting it against hers, holding it tight. For an Elf who used the tight strings of his bow so much, he had still, perfectly smooth hands. Untouched, unscathed. "Make that promise, and keep it through the night, for my heart is dreaded and my mind is troubled, for the night to come. Let the sun rise again, and let its rays light up your face, and let the years unfold again, for what has once been, and what could still be."