CH14 - If the middle finger was a facial expression: It would be Legolas'
It was dark and the 13th sector was in the depths of the Mirkwood forest. Legolas had fully recovered and took to leading his warriors once again, which he was very pleased about. Quite frankly, he had hated being so stationary. Therefore, this patrol was greatly welcomed.
They had just finished demolishing yet another spider nest and were currently resting by a blazing fire. Arryin sat upon the ground with her back against the wood of a long, fallen tree. She was still. The orange glow of the flames reflected onto her skin—dipping and bathing her dark tone in light. It provided a warm sensation, and not only upon her body. It calmed her mind, as fire always did, considering it was a part of her lifeline.
Suddenly, she sensed a motion closing in behind her. Two boots planted themselves on either side of her form and the being sat on top of the log she was leaning upon. She instantly recognized the worn-leather as Legolas' along with his scent of honey and pine. Therefore, her panic dissipated for it was not a stranger that was so close. However, she was flooded with confusion and slight irritation. Out of all the places he could have chosen to sit, why did it have to be in such close proximity to her?!
Legolas spoke, "Dilthen Er (little one), your hair is such a mess." He pulled a leaf from her black, tangled locks before speaking again. "I have yet to see you fight in a battle where your braids have not come undone."
Arryin snorted and rolled her eyes, but made no motion to do anything about it.
Legolas began to run his fingers through the Ranger's inter-twisted knots, pulling out various elements of nature as he went. Arryin could not help but let her eyelids flutter closed as she drank in the calming sensation. His touch was light and gentle, soft and soothing. She wanted nothing more than to bask in it forever. It took everything to fight the urge to lean into his lap.
At that thought, her eyes snapped open.
By the Valar—what was she thinking?
She then became overwhelmed by guilt and shame. She didn't deserve such gentle care. Her instincts told her to pull away and lash out at him, for she shouldn't be complicit in such a pacifying act. Moments like this lead to pain. It leads to destruction and regret. It leads to death—just as it had with her family all those years ago. But deep down, she liked his touch as it brought comfort. A comfort which she had not received since she was a young elleth. To be honest, she had forgotten what it felt like. It had been centuries upon centuries since one had caressed her with such care. Arryin bit her lip as negative emotions whispered across her mind. She did not deserve such kindness—especially after her entire race was killed and she did nothing to save them. A deep sadness settled in her heart as she felt guilty for being content. Wasn't she supposed to be getting her revenge? Wasn't she supposed to be slaying orcs and ripping apart spider legs? She swallowed dryly; yet she did not move away from the Prince's gentle hands.
Legolas, once the debris were removed, began to weave Arryin's hair into a long braid that started at the top of her head. His fingers slipped gently through her black strands as he worked, folding and molding the locks together.
Surprisingly, Arryin let the male elf do the task. Not only was he shocked by her compliance, but she was as well. Never had she been so unresisting and unassertive. She just sat, unmoving, entranced by the flames. However, her suspended focus did not stop her senses, for the Ranger could feel the gazes of curious elves upon her. Their eyes flickered over her and Legolas cautiously, which caused embarrassment to arise in her cheeks.
Why were they staring so intently?
Yes, Arryin was not aware of all elven customs as she spent almost her entire life alone in isolation and war. Hence, why touch and affection were so unfamiliar to her. But, she had observed that certain behaviors were not displayed—at least in public. She began to feel that Legolas braiding her hair was one of those behaviors. It wasn't until she heard a couple snickers from men in the sector that she truly began to feel self-conscious and embarrassed.
This definitely was not a common custom.
But what could she do? It was already too late to make a move. So, instead she opted to fiddle with a throwing star and ignore the hushed whispers and tugging looks.
Beyla, Belanor, and Rowan were among those with curious eyes. They watched as Legolas braided the Ranger's hair, but their attitudes were quite different from the other warriors around them.
Beyla smiled softly before whispering to her two friends. "Do you suppose they will court?"
Rowan rolled his eyes. "Those two stubborn idiots? Only in your fantasies, Beyla."
"Oh come on, you have got to see the connection between them!"
Rowan took a swig from his water-skin. "Oh I see it, but they clearly don't."
Belanor chuckled at the amber-haired elf's response and shook his head. "Even Legolas is too bull-headed to admit it. And Arryin—well, good luck with that."
Beyla sighed for she knew those statements were true. However, before she could add to the conversation, Razela, who was in earshot, decided to voice her unwanted opinion. "I wouldn't be caught dead with an elf like her."
Beyla sent her a glare. "No one asked you, Razela."
"Oh come on, Beyla. Stop defending her. We all know that she is a disaster waiting to happen. It would be best if she left, or better yet, if an orc got to her."
Belanor was the one to respond to her harsh words. "Razela. As second-in-command, I suggest you shut your mouth before you say anything else you will regret."
The woman scoffed before rolling her eyes, but she listened to him. She stalking off in annoyance, leaving behind anger and frustration.
Beyla stood to saunter after her, but Belanor grabbed her wrist. "It's not worth it, Bee. Just let it go."
The blonde elleth groaned in frustration as she plopped back down next to the two boys. Even though Arryin was a new addition to their group, she proved to be a great friend. She was strong willed and carefree of restrictions—something Beyla admired and loved. The Ranger wasn't like the other elves here, she was exciting and adventurous. She was one of the only elleths that Beyla felt like she could relate to in regards to that aspect—to an extent that is.
...
As time went on, the seasons began to change and the icy temperatures of the winter months settled it. This of course made training and patrol tough; the air was etched with snow and the creatures of darkness did not stop their everlasting pursuit.
Currently, it was evening and every elf was quieting down within the castle's cold stone after a long days work. A couple of them chose to take refuge in the comforts of the library. Arryin, Belanor, and Legolas were among those who did so.
The trio had settled by the large fireplace nearly four hours ago. Legolas was sitting in an armchair writing patrol reports for Thranduil and Belanor was five feet away doing the same. Arryin, however, was laying still on the brown, leather couch across from them. She was resting on her side with a soft fur-blanket draped over her small frame. Her emerald eyes were closed and her lips were parted slightly. Those loose locks of hers tumbled from the edge of the dark cushions as her chest carefully rose and fell. And lastly, a book was held loosely in her hand—clearly forgotten by her sleeping form.
Legolas and Belanor would occasional glance up to check on her, for she had been asleep for at least three hours. This of course was not a problem, but it was out of character. Arryin had survived days without sleeping or sleeping very little, which most elves could do. However, she was incredibly good at it—likely from all her time doing who knows what throughout the lands of middle earth. Therefore, it was strange for them to see her unconscious so often. In the last week, Legolas had found her passed out on a bench in the hall, dozing in a meeting (Thranduil wasn't happy about it), and napping in the stables.
The two male elves had recently noticed other slight changes in her behavior as well—she was angrier and distant, quiet and detached. She even seemed to begin to avoid most of the elves, including Legolas. Not to mention that she was sneaking off—well, more than usual that is. This turn of events produced concern. It had been a year since she first arrived and she was just beginning to truly open up to the members of the Mirkwood guard. However, now it seemed like all that progress was reversing.
It was then when the quiet and peaceful atmosphere was interrupted, for Edyrm came into the little nook where the three elves were perched. Sensing his presence, Belanor and Legolas looked up; and in response to being noticed, Edyrm nodded slightly. The dark-haired elf held a pile of papers inscribed with what Legolas expected to be patrol reports, as every elf in his sector was required to give to him. Edyrm approached silently and as he got closer, his eyes landed on Arryin's sound-asleep form.
Unexpectedly, he reached forward and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. "She's a beauty, aye?"
Almost instantly, anger swelled in the Mirkwood Prince's chest.
They watched as Edyrm picked up the book from the Ranger's hand. "The History of the Greenwood Elves," he stated simply as a smile tugged at his lips. "I assume she is catching up on information she missed while being a Ranger."
While the dark-hair elf's gaze lingered on Arryin, Legolas narrowed his eyes. The Prince took this moment to really observe the young ellon warrior. Recently, Edyrm had been pissing Legolas off—especially when it came to Arryin. It always seemed that his eyes lingered too long and his touch persisted more than necessary. And now, when he looked deep into Edyrm's eyes, he saw it. Legolas saw lust. Of course, Edyrm's comment about Arryin's appearance was nowhere near false, but Legolas could feel the ellon's true intentions seep into the air.
He watched as Edyrm reached out to touch her again. However, Legolas interrupted his action. "Edyrm, is what you hold the patrol reports that I have been waiting for?"
The elf's hand fell to his side. "Aye, indeed it is."
He walked towards Legolas and quickly handed the papers over. He then turned to make his exit. As he did so, he paused for a moment, letting his gaze dance over the Lone Ranger once more. Seemingly deciding against whatever thought crossed his mind, Edyrm went back to his table without another word.
Legolas grit his teeth as his stern gaze bore into Edrym's back.
It was when Belanor spoke that he was pulled from his rage-filled trance. "You are protective of her, are you not?"
Legolas turned to face his friend. "Of course I am. She's a member of my sector." He glanced in the direction of Edyrm. "And I insinuate he does not have good intentions pertaining to her."
Belanor raised his eyebrow, "Mellon (friend), is that all of your reasoning? Perhaps there is something deeper?"
Legolas and Belanor locked eyes. The Prince knew exactly what his friend was prying at and he knew that it was the correct assumption.
"No, nothing deeper," Legolas stated.
They both knew it was a lie.
A long moment of silence passed between them before Legolas sighed in defeat. "Do you think she will ever understand—how emotions and empathy work? How our hearts work?"
Belanor looked at his friend sympathetically, not needing to speak to answer, for it was possible that the damage was already done—young and alone for too long in the wild had its effects.
