Feä Bond (Legolas x OC)

The bond

Happy new year 2022 ! Year of changes. Brace for impact :)

They did not stop for the night, trotting through it like it was day. Frances' voice was heard some more, singing mostly what the dwarf wanted, but sometimes answering another ranger's request. It also meant that Legolas had to ride closer to her, for each time he led his steed away, Gimli protested. How ironic that his two friends would actually work against him without even knowing it.

Her voice lulled him into elven slumber. Eyes opened, he led the horse absently a she sang, resting for the first time in days. Frances' emotions were strong, and he could feel them clearly. So clearly that it should have startled him. But in his haze, he didn't take time to wonder about it. Her tones were powerful if muffled by the movements of the horse.

The songs were nothing as melodious as those of the eldar but it suited her talent better. Legolas knew, from the day she had interpreted this poem on the Anduin, that she had a beautiful voice. Now, he was carried by the emotions she displayed. Sadness, joy, elation, strength and longing.

Sometime if the evening, Legolas emerged from his slumber, finding only the sound of hooves on the path rather than Frances' voice. The young lady was spent, slouched against Elrohir's back, as she slept a little. The Peredhil was careful in his movements, his arm locked behind her in an awkward position. At some point after lunch, Legolas remembered Elladan trying to pass as Elrohir as he urged Frances on his steed while his twins assembled the saddle bags. But the young lady would have none of it. "I promised to ride with your brother his afternoon," she said.

Truly, he didn't know how she recognised them. No matter how they asked, they could not pry it from her. The more they begged, the wider her smile. Noting Legolas' gaze, Elrohir addressed him a quick look of acknowledgement. The eldar were weary as well, but Aragorn would not stop. The elf prince nodded, and urged his horse forward to reach his long-time friend. If the three elves felt the fatigue, he could not fathom how tired the rangers must be, and most of all, their chieftain.

The Grey Company passed the little town of Ciril. People scattered, crying out that the 'King of the dead' had indeed returned, fleeing before them. If there had been foe among them, the rangers were none the wiser for they vanished like the rest.

The hours passed in a blur for Frances. Riding in turn with Elladan or Elrohir, she lost track of time as the night settled, darkness eventually giving way to a dawnless day in greyish colours. In the sky, inky clouds seemed to roll, gaining over the lands like an evil blanket, killing the sunrays that should have warmed her heart. If the air wasn't as cold as the fellowship had faced on Caradhras, Frances was chilled to the bone. The absence of light only reminded her that a host of dead followed them. Once in a while, she felt their breathless presence, greeting her in a sea of icy dread. Closing her Lorien cloak tight around her, she held fast to the elf leading the horse, hoping that, even through the cloth, she would be able to steal away a little of his warmth.

Beside Aragorn, the prince of Greenwood shivered. Fortunately, the fast pace and weariness of the group prevented his friends to notice the sudden movement. Even Gimli, holding tight behind him, failed to comment on it. But Legolas's mind was on high alert. As an elf, he was nearly impervious to the cold, and he did not fear the dead host as his companions did. Elrohir and Elladan alike shared the blessing of the firstborn, much to their delight.

Hence his suspicions. Legolas should not have felt it, yet he couldn't shake the uneasiness from his shoulder. Deep down, he could pinpoint the dread as much as the numbing of his fingers. Frowning, the elf let his hands play with the reins. Nothing. His fingers were fully functional, as was all the rest. The elf was at loss, but kept his mouth shut. Surely the strain of the ride was affecting him after all.