Legolas

'Tell me. Would you fall in love with a firefly?' He asks. I shake my head.

'Then you shall never understand,' he says.

We sit upon the top of the small hill, wind ruffling our hair, and we watch the sun set. The sky bleeds red, golds and pinks and every imaginable hue of orange mixing together like some giant pot of dye. It is beautiful.

He is beautiful, too.

I could watch him for months on end and I would still marvel at his beauty, I think. Perhaps it is only natural. For his beauty is one not made for mortals like me.

I watch the sweep of pale gold, glimmering like a hidden patch of winter-grass, sliding easily down his graceful back. I watch the elegantly arched brows, those sparkling grey eyes so wise and young and exuberant all in one. The shapely, straight nose, the full lips, chiseled jaw, strong neck. Slender and graceful and strong, like a young tree in spring.

Oh, he is beautiful.

And I feel terribly plain all of a sudden, like a maidservant caught spying upon a prince.

He must know many beautiful elf-maidens, I suppose. They could have stayed with him forever. He would never have to grieve their loss.

"Why do you love me?" I ask.

The question escapes my lips before I can help it, and it comes out like something of a hoarse whisper. I blush. But I am also curious, for this is a question that has plagued me for a terribly long time now. He is perfect, and I am not, and I cannot see what he sees in me; what he sees that he likes so much. What he sees in a plain farm-girl who had just been lucky enough and kind enough to rescue an injured elf in the woods.

He considers my question, quietly. His head tilts sideways in that endearing way of his, white-gold hair spilling across his shoulders in a shimmering waterfall, the dying sun casting long shadows upon his sculpted face.

It is near dark now, and the air begins to come alight with fireflies, flitting across the dusky expanse of the sky like fallen stars come to earth. He spreads a palm, and a firefly sits their, fluttering its wings as if it is trying to speak to us.

It is beautiful.

Still, he thinks, that thoughtful curve of his chin so evident to me. Finally, he turns, and I am treated to the sight of those exuberant, ageless grey eyes.

"Tell me. Would you fall in love with a firefly?" he asks.

I shake my head.

"Then you shall never understand," he says.

Mayhap I never will. Never go to Elves for counsel, they say. For they will say both Yea and Nay. I have always thought him fairly straightforward, never shy to state his thoughts, brave and fearless and young, but now – now, he confuses me.

"Would you?" I ask. He reaches out, playing with a strand of my plain, dark hair, and there is a rueful smile playing upon the edges of his mouth.

"Oh, but I already have, sweet one. So pleasant upon the eyes, light so bright and clear, just out of my reach, ever flitting across that thing we call life. So beautiful."

"I am the firefly?" I laugh, trying to make light of this moment that has become so serious, so fast. But his eyes are heavy upon mine, and I understand what it means to withstand the weight of a gaze that has walked these lands for Ages.

"Perhaps." That unreadable smile, again. So melancholy, soft and fleeting. "Burning bright and beautiful," he says, gently pressing his lips to the palm of my hand.

"I love you." I say, because I do not know what else to say. Maybe because he is so beautiful, so eternal, something completely different that I can never hope to comprehend nor own in its entirety, and all that I can offer is my love. However much that means to him.

I think he understands, because he gives me a smile, clear and sweet, and we watch the fireflies for a while.

They fly in circles and loops across the night sky, leaving a glimmering trail in their wake, glowing soft yellow and gold, and I am lost in this timeless dance. I can almost imagine the years going by, myself growing old and weary and weak, until I cannot walk all the way to this hillock anymore. And still, the fireflies will dance, and it will be beautiful, and he will be here, too, young and fey and beautiful, swaying upon the wind with starlight in his hair.

But perhaps his eyes will change, become older and more tired, that tireless, youthful joy I know so well fading a little with every loss.

I know that he will mourn my death. Will he remember me for eternity, take the memory of me across the sea and cherish it – there where they say all hurts melt like morning dew upon sunlight?

I think that he might. I hope he does not. I do not want those eyes to age.

Oh, my greenleaf. So beautiful. So blindingly bright.

His fingers lace into mine, and I am pulled into a gentle kiss, slow and torturously sweet. I close my eyes.

I still do not know why I choked back tears on that night, that night when the fireflies danced.

But as the fireflies danced above us, his lips met mine, and as I leaned into him, breathing in the sent of young leaves and tree-bark, a tear made its way down my cheek; and I could not stop it, however hard I tried.

I let it stay.

Coming Next : MERRY! :D

He was my friend before he was my brother's.

'Keep my Fatty safe,' I say. 'I'll try,' he replies, and his eyes are the most serious I've ever seen.

'Will you stay safe too?' I ask, grabbing his arm.

This time, he does not meet my eyes.

A/N : Only two chapters to go now! This chapter was one of my favorite chapters in this whole series - perhaps I am a bit biased because of Legolas... :)

Sincere thanks to all those who have waited for, read through, favorited, followed and/or reviewed this story. You are the ones who make me keep going.

Special Thanks : My special Guest, who has left a whopping three reviews on my story. I wasn't able to reply by PM because you weren't logged in, but please know that I truly delight in your wonderfully detailed, considerate reviews. Thank you so much!