Blue sparks in woodland realm

Chapter 9: The merriness of a setting sun

A/N: I own nothing except my mistakes.Also, sorry for not updating in so long, but thank you for your continued support and interest!

At morning things had stirred, for Pippin had seen the Eye, and he and Gandalf must now make way for Minas Tirith. This marked the end of their journey at Rohan, for the beacons had been lit after a long day's wait, the signal they had all been waiting for, the one that allowed them to come to aid.

On horse they had assembled, and had rode until at last they would come to a halt within the far-outstretching grasslands, down near the White Mountains, where they had set up their tents, and had stabled their horses.

For a while Erynèth had roamed about the camp, getting a few odd looks from the Men around, not used to see a woman at the heart of war, but they soon dismissed it as she slitted her eyes at them, enough to make them cower away.

"Erynèth," she heard off in the distance, and saw a bit further away Legolas, standing with two horses in his hands, a bit of a forced smile on his face, "Ride with me?"

Erynèth, feeling the clenching in her throat as she was certain that their high from battle had started to wear off, she hesitantly approached him as he took the reins from the brown maned horse, swiftly ascending it as Legolas ascended his own.

"Where are we going?" Erynèth asked, after they had strolled between tents in a slow pace, the horses still quite weary from the long journey here.

"Nowhere in particular," Legolas said, then kept his gaze ahead as he watched the sun slowly start to set, "but away from listening ears."

Erynèth, feeling a tightness forming in her chest, nodded as she swallowed the tension away.

For a while they just strolled around the tents, countless of them in the fields, as the backs of the horses cradled them into an ease. "Renech I lu I erui govannem?" ("Do you remember when we first met?") Legolas said after a while, his voice soft and distant, as if he didn't want to get too emotionally involved in this conversation.

Looking to her right, she watched as the setting sun beamed small rays of lights from the top of his silver locks, twinkling as it moved with the light. "Nauthannim I ned ol reniannen," ("I thought I had strayed into a dream,") Erynèth smiled, thinking back to when she had first met the young Elf, when having ventured about the woods. She had been young, quite foolish and rebellious, and had gone against her parents' wishes and sought adventures from outside the borders of Lothlorién. First she had ventured off to Rivendell, to meet with her sister-in-law, but then, with the grounds so familiar, she had wanted to seek adventure elsewhere, and had stumbled upon Mirkwood by chance.

There, in the forest, had been Legolas, still young, yet less foolish or rebellious than her, guarding his borders, nearly keeping her out of it, until he had learned from whom she descended. It had not been love at first sight, as most in their surroundings had often thought, but their love had more so formed out of curiosity; two descendants of higher Elves.

Legolas finally looked at her, his eyes travelling from her eyes, to her lips, then back to her eyes again, a curious look on his face, though he looked almost comforted. 'Gwenin in enniath…" ("Long years have passed…") Legolas said, a twitch of his lips as his eyes grew distant once more, as if reminiscing the first time meeting her, or perhaps he was thinking back to when she had suddenly left, as his eyebrows furrowed together.

"Benech I beth I pennen?" ("Do you remember what I told you?") he asked, his voice dreamy as his lips slightly parted.

Erynèth, looking at him curiously, she spoke in sync with Legolas, "I will forever hold your heart in mine, for as long as my Elven years let me live."

At this she lowered her gaze, resting her hand on her necklace, tracing the leaves on the golden rose with her fingers, spiralling inwards.

"When you had left," Legolas said, his voice a little more strained, as if trying to mask an emotion, "I had felt as if you had taken my heart with you."

Erynèth did not dare look to her side, to look him in the eye, for she was still too ashamed. "I had been mourning you, though you were yet alive. I had been angered, as if the anger could ever return you to me," his voice grew tenser, a slight bitterness to it. Daring to lift her gaze, she watched the pain in his eyes as he looked at her almost desperately. "I had wondered each day what I had done wrong, for you to leave me like that," he went on, almost spitting out his words, though not just from anger, but from unspoken sadness.

Swallowing, she tried to bite back the tears she was feeling herself. This was his moment to be saddened, to be maddened at her. The emotions belonged to him at this moment. "I had gone each day searching the woods, hoping to find trace of you, to ask why you had forsaken me."

For the first time in a long while, she saw a tear roll down his cheek, just a single one, trailing down as he bitterly frowned, a set of creaking appearing in his skin. "Until one day, I had grown bitter, resentful, and I had lost myself, the goodness in my heart, as my path went astray."

For a moment Legolas fell silent, as if trying to regain his emotions, stabilize his ragged breathing. To Elves, heartbreak was far worse than for Men or Dwarves or Hobbits, for the spoken love was as close to a binding promise you could make to one another.

"Yet, perhaps, what has frightened me most," he said after a while, his face returning to neutral, almost emotionless, his voice stable and devoid of any emotion, "was the fact that upon seeing you after all those years, I did not feel angry, or saddened, as I thought I would have."

Legolas shook his head, his horse now coming to a halt, and so Erynèth gentle tugged on her reins to bring her own horse to a halt as well. "No," he breathed, gingerly meeting her eyes, an almost painful longing twinkling in his eyes, "it was as if you had never left. My heart still yearning for you, wanting to hold you close, to never let you go." At this he let out a bit of a humourless laugh. "I should have been mad, and I was, after my confusion, for you had not been wanting to explain it to me, not even after all those years." Instead of his previous bitterness, it now made space for a more vulnerable sadness, as his voice began to tremble.

"And even now, upon knowing the truth," Legolas grew silent, gazing ahead as the sun began to gloom a warm orange as it began to set behind the mountains. "I cannot be mad, for I understand," then he quickly added, "though I do not agree," a strained smile followed, "but I understand. You have always had respected my relationship with my father, and you were simply trying to protect me from your own rebellion."

Erynèth gave him a pitiful look, which helped him take a deep breath as he released it in a long sigh. "It is true, yes, that my mind is still mudded, with the stain you left upon it," he spoke, an ease resting into his voice, as if he had come to peace with what he was about to say, "yet, my heart, which I had long given up on, has regained its beating, and thus the yearning for you, still."

"I look at you, Erynèth," Legolas said, his eyes now fixed upon her, almost piercing through her, yet she held his gaze, no matter how ashamed she felt, how much she wanted to look away to not see the hurt in his eyes, "and my mind whispers to me with what has once been, and what has once been taken from me," but then he shook his head, "but the mind can be reasoned with, when it is my heart that still longs for you, still beats for you, still reaches for you."

Swallowing, she felt a dryness settle into her mouth that she did not often feel, as he descended his horse, stretching out a hand towards her, urging her to do the same.

Feeling rather shaky, she gladly accepted his support as he kept a firm grip on her hand, not releasing it, even after she had landed with both feet on the ground. "How come you can still look at me, with such care in your eyes, and such love in your heart," Erynèth spoke at last, soft like the breeze in the wind, as she stroke the back of his hand with her thumb, "when I have treated it so carelessly, have abandoned you so folly?"

Erynèth wanted to look away, feeling like a fool for having ever left him, ashamed of how she had done so, and unable to bear the softness he still caried in his eyes as he looked at her, but he did not let her, for with his free hand he cupped her chin softly, as he kept her gaze fixed upon him.

"A si i-duath u-orthor… u or le a u or nîn," ("The shadow [of the past] does not hold sway yet… not over you and not over me," he spoke gently, his features softening as the thumb on her chin softly stroke her cheek, before falling back down to his side.

"My love has never stopped flowing for you," Legolas went on, the golden streak of the sun almost fulling disappearing behind the mountains lighting up his face, "even when I thought it to be impossible, you still carry my heart."

Erynèth did not dare speak, or even so much breathe or swallow as he released her hand and wrapped it around her golden rose against her chest, gently stroking it as he slowly looked at her. "If you feel the same, and we have the luck of surviving the wraths of this war," he spoke, a conviction in his voice, "then let me, once more, take you as my wife."

At this her jaws dropped open, as she stared at him with utmost disbelief. Had he truly still had the care for her in his heart? Had it not left him astray? Even after her betrayal? It had been true, that he had been more forgiving than she had ever been, yet she did not think she'd be lucky enough to be at the merciful end of it herself.

To have him still want her, was almost like a dream to her, much like it was when she had first begun to see more to him than the friendship they had developed.

When his gaze began to grow uncertain, and he almost began to back away, she realized that it was now or never, and so she laid her hand upon his, as it still rested upon the rose, much like it had done when he had first asked her to marry him, a thousand years ago.

"My mind is clouded, with the forgiveness you so mercifully offer me," Erynèth spoke truthfully, wanting him to understand how grateful she felt, "yet my heart, too, still belongs to you. It has never wavered, has never been left astray. I still hold you, dear to my heart, as if it were my own, and to be able to be your wife, for now, and into eternity, would be worth more to me, than my very own life."

At this Legolas broke out grinning, a far stretched smile that she had not seen in so long, as it twinkled his eyes, and scrunched his nose slightly, before they closed again as he dipped his head down low, resting his forehead against hers. "Let us now, only be separated by death, and never forsake each other," he whispered, and Erynèth nodded vigorously in agreement, not planning on ever repeating her mistake again, as she clutched his hand tightly, not wanting to let it go.

With that confirmation he captured her lips, and Erynèth felt the shivers run down her spine as the skin, so soft and warm, gently pressed against hers, a passion to it that she had long forgotten, as his other arm wrapped itself tightly around her waist, pulling her in as close as he could, as he let their tongues wrap around each other, until they finished with a tight embrace, watching as the darkness begin to loom over them, though they only felt brightness in their hearts.