Feä Bond (Legolas x OC)

The Keeper of Time's tale

For one sweet moment, she really believed he was going to dig his graceful fingers in her hair. Even if that thought disturbed her, a part of her was looking forward to the contact. When his hand dropped and his beautiful eyebrows furrowed, Frances' eyes pleaded for him to come closer. His blue gaze enchanted her. Barely acknowledging Eomer, who was still owning her other arm, Legolas bowed.

"I am thrilled to see you again my lady."

He kept his concerns silent by fear of sounding rude. Frances arched an eyebrow at the title. Forgetting that she was speaking to a prince in front of a crowd of Kings, the words left her mouth.

"How many times will I have to tell you that I'm not ... oh never mind?"

Legolas kept his bearing, his eyes twinkling with mischief albeit her turned to the King's nephew.

"Hail Eomer, this beer you make in Rohan is tasteful."

"I am glad you liked it. Now, if you will excuse me, I think it is time I joined my men anew."

Whatever was happening between those two, Eomer felt way out of his depth. Better to leave.

"I thank you for the company, Marshall of Rohan," Frances said with a smile.

"The pleasure is mine my lady."

Eomer released the young woman's arm and bowed to them, quickly disappearing in the crowd. And there stayed the elf and Frances, the two of them closer than ever.

"Would you wish some fresh air?"

Frances scrunched her nose in an adorable mimic. Surely she could smell the foul air as much as he.

"That would certainly be enjoyable."

Legolas took her hand and settled it in the crook of his arm, as was the custom. There, he had anchored her to him, and it felt great. Slowly, they made a few laborious steps.

"How is your leg?"

"Aching," she answered, feeling the need to be honest for once.

"Is walking painful?"

"Less than riding. The trip has been hard on the stitches; I have to say that I am quite afraid of the results..."

Legolas froze, his brow furrowed in concern.

"We will have to ask Estel to tend to your wound."

"Yes. I certainly will. Once party is over."

For once, Frances had not dismissed the idea for help. For once, she had not said, 'it doesn't matter' or 'don't worry about it. The elven prince immersed his gaze into hers, looking for the suffering that always left marks, no matter how stout a warrior could be. And there they were; the tight lines around her mouth, the stiffness of her posture and the cloud of pain in her eyes. Legolas could not bring himself to let her suffer and endanger her life further by reopening the wound.

"Shall we move?" asked Frances, wondering what he had in mind.

"Yes," he murmured.

As two arms encircled her waist, the young woman let out a muffled cry.

"What do you think you're doing !"

"Leading you out without suffering from your scars"

His voice was amused, yet they held a tad of uneasiness.

"Mmmph"

However disturbing this was, Frances had to admit that they were moving much faster. His arms were warm and strong, encasing her body into a world of safety. And she longed for it, especially after those moments spent alone in Helm's deep. For a while over there, she had thought she was contemplating the stones of her tomb. Yet, she had made it, and was now moving with ease in the arms of an elven prince. Glaring at the people who dared mock her while passing their drunken figures, Frances found herself on the platform of the golden hall in no time.