Feä Bond (Legolas x OC)

Archery

Sharing lunch and dinner quickly became a habit, and as a routine started to appear Frances asked the fellowship if they could train her. Aragorn's hopes to see her remain in Lothlórien disappeared, but as her hand healed he saw no reason to refuse it.

Surprisingly, Boromir volunteered to help her perfect her skills. He felt out of place in this forest; a feeling shared. Day after day, he drove Frances to exhaustion, teaching her how to wield a blade of men. She didn't complain, grateful for the time he took to help her build her strength and skills. His fighting style was so different than the one that Rivendell's master had taught her, but she took every advice to heart. Her aim was to strengthen and gain a few reflexes; practice was the only way.

She had her training from Interpol to count upon regarding hand-to-hand combat, but it didn't really correspond to sword fighting. Sometimes Aragorn would spare the time to train her as well, and the hobbits would join in. Once in a while, Legolas came around and observed their progress. The lady's resilience was remarkable, but would it be enough ?

With her speed and agility, Frances could not fight like an elf, but did not either muster the strength of men. After some time she found her own way of fighting, avoiding contacts whenever possible, ducking and dodging, using the training of the past years in self-defence and applying it to swordsmanship. For days, her sore muscles insulted her, but she treated them with hot baths and ointments.

One day, Legolas came to find her in the guest quarters. In his hands, he carried a small bow. Frances was just coming out of her own room when she found him. She had put on breeches and a tunic, the one she wore whenever she trained. Her hair was pulled back in a french braid.

- "My lord Prince, she greeted him with a smile. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Startled by the use of his title, the elf stiffened. There was a twinkle in her eyes; she was teasing him.

- "I bring you a bow of good craftsmanship that should serve you well. It is elven made, but smaller than the one I use."

Frances' eyes brightened. She loved archery, but had not been able to practise for ages. Her bow was lost in Moria. An elven bow from Lothlórien was a gift she could not hope for.

- "Would you care to teach me?"

The elf nodded once, his expression smooth but a new light dancing in his ocean eyes.

- "If you allow me."

- "Then let us go!"

The lady's enthusiasm was refreshing, and he followed as she leapt down the stairs like a child. Like all young ones, she was certainly eager to learn. After all, elves were considered young well after their first centuries. He himself being only five hundred years old was still regarded as a child by his own father.

King Thrandhuil had probably not been happy to hear of his departure. But even if Legolas felt sorry for his father's solitude, he did not regret joining the quest. At the time it felt the only reasonable option, and if most elves did not have hope, he owed it to Aragorn to try and stop middle earth from falling into the hands of Sauron.

- "Legolas?" asked Frances.

- "Yes, my lady?"

She scrunched her nose comically, stopping in her tracks.

- "You need to stop calling me that."

Legolas' eyebrows rose upon his forehead, wondering what could possibly be wrong with the respectful title. But still, he had insisted the fellowship not to dwell upon his status; with spies everywhere, he didn't want anyone to use him against his father.