Thank you, fabulous lovelies who reviewed the last chapter: welliegirl16, AdalineXC, theRealFloraNocturna, Katia0203, Charming Ever After, the Enchanted Stream, Mistress of Imladris, thrndlewood, perchemi, and RainAstiel. (Pretty much all of you are also reading my Kingsfoil fic, and seriously. You are the BEST.)
Questions for Legolas - He was very excited to get a few more questions from his fans and here are his answers:
1. Have you ever gotten burs stuck in his luscious locks, and if so, how in Arda he managed to get them out?
Sadly, yes. I once tripped on a root during a chase through the forest and got at least a dozen burrs stuck in my hair. Fortunately, I was able to borrow my dad's delightful cream rinse he uses on his hair. He has the BEST stuff. You think we wake up looking this good? No. It's all about conditioning and a good detangler.
2. Boxers or briefs?
Neither? Now, I'm blushing. But seriously, have you seen my leggings? - There's no place for unsightly lines on this silhouette, ladies. ;)
3. What traits do you look for in "the perfect woman"?
That's a tricky question, because how do I know if I haven't found her yet? I'm a sucker for a pretty smile. And I want her to be smart and have a sense of humor. And I guess if I'm being honest, I want her to like me for me. That's pretty important. And oh yeah, if my dad is reading this-she needs to come from a good, prominent family. Riiiight.
Author's note: In this chapter, Legolas goes to one of Galadriel's gardens to meet Miredhel. This garden, however, does not contain Galadriel's mirror. That particular garden was on the southern side of the hill.
A quiet ring of mallorn trees held the promise of Galadriel's garden. For countless generations of men, this garden had kept faith with the Golden Wood while the saplings grew solid and reached towards the firmament. An arch of latticework woven of many vines chased the edges of the trees, promising solitude. Many a skilled hand had labored there, nurturing the green and living. Many a love's promise had been murmured on the marvelous benches of carved white stone gleamed among beds of ivy and fragrant blossoms. The garden bathed in light streaming through the branches of the trees during the day, and in the evening the stars hung as jeweled beacons, burning above the sweeping forest.
The garden was beautiful. I had been there before with Gimli. Dwarves care little for petals and leaves, preferring cold stone and metal, and I had little time to explore the garden's subtleties. Once again, I found I could not enjoy the garden at my leisure. I needed to sort things out with my friend's unhappy sister, who I apparently kept inadvertently offending despite my best efforts.
The garden was so quiet to my ears—for my years serving in my father's Forest Guard sharpened my hearing—I almost mistakenly thought the garden empty. I half-wished it was, but no. Lady Miredhel was there in the fading dim shaded under the sweeping mallorn branches. She reclined on one of the benches. I heard her breath catch in her throat as I entered the garden.
My sudden appearance vexed her if the quick flush to her cheeks was any indicator. I paused in the archway, unsure for a moment. She clearly did not like me from our first meeting. And what seemed a good idea a few minutes ago certainly seemed to have little chance for success now.
Finally she broke the calm. "My lord, what brings you here?"
Her eyes pained me. Accusatory and as dark as the leaves of Mirkwood they were. I met her gaze for a moment, silently apologetic until she looked away.
"Did my brother send you here?"
"No, I came on my own errand." I approached her. She straightened her posture and rested her slender hands in her lap, occasionally twisting a ring on her right hand.
"Do you come to tease me some more?" Miredhel asked evenly, her face expressionless. She twisted the ring again.
I now stood directly beside the bench. "May I?" I gestured toward the seat. She nodded and slid down to the opposite end.
She stared into the garden, probably wishing I would leave. I didn't blame her. I was thinking the same thing. Then she sighed and quietly told me, "I came here seeking solitude, my lord. I desire to be alone with my own thoughts."
I nodded. I did understand and told her so at once, adding, "I do not wish to intrude." Of all the things! She kindly gave me an opening to leave and save us both torment and probable embarrassment, and did I take her kindly offer? No. Because I never meant to hurt her feelings back at the archery range or tease her, for that matter. I could not let myself go in good conscience until I apologized. So rather than leaving, I placed my hands behind my head, letting my eyes scan the treetops. "I have something of great importance of which I must speak to you," I told her. "so I will just wait, if my lady does not mind, of course." I stood up and moved to a different bench.
An hour passed, and now the sun had pushed the clouds toward the edges of the woods. Miredhel continued to sit on her bench, almost statue-like until an occasional movement of her hands betrayed her. I was perfectly still. At first, I had blissfully surveyed the garden, admiring its many beauties, but it was so peaceful I almost dozed off.
Miredhel stole a glance at me. I seemed plenty relaxed. Silently, she stood up and crept past me. Again, here was another chance to avoid what was surely going to be an awkward conversation if ever there was one, and I seriously debated letting her sneak away. I let her get almost to the archway before I spoke up. .
"My lady, you are not leaving so soon?" I fastened my eyes on hers.
"I thought you were asleep," she stammered.. "I did not wish to disturb you, but you are not, well, sleeping. Please, tell me of what you wished to speak." She crossed the garden again and returned to her seat. Her eyes were bright, and her cheeks were flushed.
Well, here was the moment.
"I came to apologize for my words back at the range, Lady Miredhel. I meant no disrespect toward you, and I am sorry for any liberties I might have taken in our conversation. I did not mean to give offense," I said, hoping to sound as sincere as I felt.
Miredhel eyed me skeptically. "My lord, what else could you have intended by serving such an outrageous tale?"
"No, no," I told her, "It was no tale, and I would not lie to you or any lady for that matter." I was adamant. "The story in all of its particulars is true. The blade does glow when enemies are near."
"Who do you know that has such a weapon?"
"One of the Fellowship," I said softly, looking away. Frodo. I wondered what he was doing now...if he healed and found peace in the Shire.
"Does it pain you to speak of your friends?" asked Miredhel curiously.
"Only when I recall the great sacrifices that were made," I replied and met her eyes. The moment had passed. "Do you believe me, Lady Miredhel, when I say that I never spoke an untruth to you?"
"Yes, I believe you," she said and then dropped her gaze to her lap. Her next words surprised me: "but I must equally beg forgiveness. I fear I misjudged you."
"All is forgotten," I said and smiled. Unbelievable. This whole apology thing might actually work out—and with a far better outcome than I could have anticipated! I rose from the bench and was on my way to leave when I stopped at the archway in afterthought. "Lady Miredhel, do you really intend to compete in the tournament?"
"Alas, I must. I already said so to Eledhel," she said and added wryly, "I am not so ill at archery as my brother would make me out to be."
I laughed and then paused at the gate. She smiled back at me, all green eyes and a playful grin. Did I mention that she had a dusting of freckles across her nose? And dimples in her cheeks when she smiled? If I'm being completely honest with myself, I have to admit that I have done some pretty stupid things in the presence of freckles. Not to mention the green eyes. Or the dimples. Let it be known that this was one of those times. Because the next words out of my mouth were: "Would you care to make it interesting, my lady?"
She rolled her eyes. "Such a suggestion is hardly fair when practically everyone believes that you will take first."
"Well…" I thought a bit and then suggested, "If I manage to take first, then I win the wager. If you manage to place in front of Eledhel, then you win."
She steepled her fingers thoughtfully, frowned. "What if both events occur—you place first, and I beat Eledhel?"
"Then we tie, our bets against each other are null, and we shall split Lady Galadriel's prize evenly."
"What are our terms?" she asked, willing to play along.
"What do you want?" I replied.
She bit her lip and hesitated. "If I win the wager, you must not allow my brother passage to Ithilien."
"We could not make such an agreement behind his back," I countered. "It is unfair to him. Let it be something that is mine to give."
"What if he joined the wager and agreed to the condition?"
"Then I could not argue," I agreed.
"Well, what would you have of me?" she asked demurely, looking up at me through those long dark lashes of hers.
"A kiss!" The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. Ah, this was just another fine example of why my father hardly allowed me any diplomatic responsibilities! Ugh, it was the freckles. And the dimples. Seriously both were my undoing, and now I've probably gone and offended her again.
But Miredhel only blushed and moved to join me under the archway. "Agreed," she said, and we shook hands. "Let this garden be our witness."
So we walked out of the garden together, and I for one was a little stunned. Really. How do I get myself into these messes? I went to the garden to get on her good terms, and mostly because I cannot have my good friend's sister hating me, and what do I do? Somehow in the middle of pleasantries, I end up conning her into a bet in which she might just have to kiss me.
I watched her walk up the path for a while after we parted. What had I done? We were just having our first enjoyable conversation. Maybe Aragorn was right—I cannot talk to a female without flirting.
And now, what about our bet? I am going to have to throw the contest. I can't be going around kissing Eledhel's sister. Even if she did agree.
But here's the thing. I didn't want to lose. Not just because I have something to prove—Woodelf to Galadhrim about archery bragging rights, but because…
...I wanted to kiss her. Really wanted to kiss her.
Oh, the Valar were going to strike me dead one of these days, that is if my father didn't kill me first.
Author's note: Oh dear. Legolas is feeling quite conflicted. Maybe he should throw the contest? What do you think? Hey, just because you think you know what happened in the original version does NOT mean it may happen in this Special Edition! I am rewriting this sucker. Anything could happen!
Legolas: gulp.
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