Feä Bond (Legolas x OC)

Musings

Legolas was gone for a while, and Gimli struggled to keep riding; Frances' sills were not up to par with the elf's soothing presence.

Dwarf and lady walked in silence for a while. It gave her time to think. Fearing that the elf would be cross with her seized her heart; it affected her so much. Why did he hold such weight? Why would his opinion be so important when others did not matter? True, Aragorn's point of view also did. He was, to her, some kind of father figure. A guide in this world. And yet, his opinion mattered less than Legolas. What, when, and how had all those changes happened?

Somewhere in her heart dwelt feelings that she could not acknowledge. Frances was, by principle, pledged to another. She had made sure that the company knew about Charlie, speaking of him from time to time, thinking of him when her mind was free to wander. Frowning, the young lady realised that her boyfriend was slowly but surely disappearing from her musings. The war in middle earth, impending death, Balrog, monsters and magic were too heavy in the balance. In the unlikely event that she survived and got back, Frances would have to consider the meaning of this. Was she unfaithful to have surrendered her heart to middle earth?

Live the moment.

If she had learnt one lesson as to now, it was that every second, every instant of one's existence meant something. Each moment should be lived like the last and could not be avoided. Those missions showed her that some events had no place in her timeline, they still made her what she was. If she got back home, she would be a different woman. Older, wiser, stronger as well.

Taught in the way of elves, touched by the grace of Lothlorien, imprinted by Elrond's family, awed by Glorfindel's presence, fearful for the Rohirrim and yet marvelling at their resilience. Each step in middle earth took her away from the young lady she had been beforehand. She felt those changes in her heart. They were profound, scarred into her being. In less than a year, she had grown so much. Like a butterfly after so much time spend as a chrysalis.

Would Charlie even recognise her? Would he still love her as she was? And did she still love him?

A baby's wail caused her to jump. Beside her, Gimli rode on, grumbling about the mood of elves and women. Around them, families pushed carts, children cried in exhaustion, faces fell as time passed. Many features were winkled from the effort.

At last, the two companions could not take it anymore. Gimli dismounted and left the horse for some other to use. A woman burdened by a little girl thanked him profusely as she tried to install her elderly mother on top of the mount. But the horse was too tall, and the woman too exhausted to manage on her own. She set the child on the ground; the little girl wailing while clinging to her skirts. Losing his patience, Gimli offered his help. Strong like he was, he could have thrown the elderly woman on the stallion without blinking. Intercepting the fearful look of the old lady, Frances intervened before the dwarf broke the poor grandmother into pieces.

— "Do no trouble yourself Gimli, I will help."

— "Ah!" he scoffed. "You probably weigh no more than her."

Frances laughed. She would not let that one go and challenged him.

— "Do you doubt the strength of my arm, friend?"

— "No, but let me see how you intend to lift that lady on the horse back."

She could have invoked his height, of course, but she was not much taller than he was, and most Rohirrim dwarfed her as well. Frances would not lower herself to blame Gimli for his short stature. As the discussion went on aside the war horse, Frances realised they were falling behind. Neither the woman not her mother dared interfering into the argument, too humbled by the company to utter a word. The child was still sniffing in her skirts, but her wails had stopped, replaced by a curious stare. At last, Frances suggested: