Feä Bond (Legolas x OC)

Leaving Lothlorien

At last, they had left the golden woods! While its giant trees and soft meadows receded, Frances' chest suddenly constricted. So many feelings were assaulting her that she couldn't make sense of it. The young lady's eyes left the river bank where the glowing form of Celeborn and Galadriel were addressing their final goodbyes.

The peaceful waters of the Anduin were scarcely disturbed by the elvish boats, opening only to allow passage and closing in behind them. Frances plunged her hand into the river. The ice-cold water was unexpectedly soft. The company progressed silently under the archways of branches, expertly guided by Aragorn in the lead canoe. The burden resting on his shoulder felt twice as heavy now, yet he bore it well.

They finally emerged in the open, welcomed by the winter glow. Not yet high enough in the sky to be warm, the sun nonetheless casts its light without the filter of the Lórien leaves. Frances relished in its caress. She had missed being out in the open. Despite its greatness, the Great Wood covered most of the sky. Once inside the forest, the blanket of trees was impenetrable. It provided cover for sure, but it somehow created a cage for the unaccustomed souls. Frances was one of them. If she couldn't live without trees, she still needed to be able to see the sky.

The young lady couldn't help it; a part of her felt relieved to leave the constant watch of Galadriel. The Lady's power was everywhere; in every dancing branch, even in the very air they were breathing. And despite the benevolence of her intentions, it was unsettling. Like a kid being watched by her parents, Frances had felt this weight on her shoulders. For sure, the forest was spectacular. The Mellyrn trees, graced by golden leaves, were so incredible that she was sure to never see such magnificence again. But there was a certain relief at fleeing far from Lady Galadriel's influence.

Freedom, at last!

And yet, despite this weight being lifted from her shoulders, anguish was starting to creep in. In the temporal bubble of Lothlorién, Frances had grown. Past the increased bond she had formed with the company, she had also learnt about her purpose. This callin, the "Keeper of time', started to make sense. Days and nights, she had thought about it, as she wandered from hot springs to elvish paths. After the spider fiasco, Frances had kept to the inner forest. So many questions remained unanswered. Many times she had wondered if looking into Galariel's mirror could bring forth the answered she sought. Would it lead her to lose her free will?

But Frances had held true.

Quite surprisingly, Boromir had become a good companion. Together, they had wandered, sparred, and covered a great many miles. The steward's son apparently had enough on his mind not to ask whatever was on hers. A silent companionship. Little by little, Frances begun to see the person behind the title and the arrogance. And day after day, Boromir had left the lady's humour and skills impress him. She for sure didn't complain much about walking, nor being beaten, not having her muscles so sore that she couldn't sit properly on a bench. He had to admit that Frances was resilient ... for a woman!

Deep down, Boromir's inherited misogyny was slowly crumbling as the girl rubbed on him. Yet they had their disagreements. As none would back down, each of them as opinionated and the other, the rest of the company would sometimes witness dire rhetorical fights. And Valar was she stubborn! Aragorn would never admit that he found some amusement in watching Frances crush Boromir's assertions with her quick mind. But the obstinate man went on and on, and yet his eyes laughed. He was leading her on, and she following without resentment. Sometimes, Aragorn was even sure that their argument was fuelled by the need to cheer the hobbits.

Gimli, being his noisy self, always exclaimed and guffawed heartily. Legolas, on the other hand, seemed at loss. His senses could not reconcile with the heated arguments happening around the fire. Did humans always argue like this? Here and there, Aragorn peeked at the elf. Between the need to be with his kin, the Galadrhim, and loyal to his friends, the young prince was torn. Yet, he had seen a smile crack on his ever-serious face at Frances' jibs. Legolas had always been one to get along with men. Despite his noble manners, the elf could stand the grime, dust and heaviness of the second born. One more reason for them to be fast friends.