A/N: Hello again! I'm here with another long delayed chapter of APF! I hope you enjoy this chapter! It's basically mostly self indulgent fluff.
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A short respite found them after the funeral of Theodred. Some days passed in a manner of hesitant relief, and yet a restlessness stirred, no doubt accompanying the sense of conflict looming on the horizon.
Gandalf had begun to fill Wormtongue's previous position, helping King Theoden as they began to undo the damage that had been done by Saruman.
Laradel and Legolas were both kept busy, and thus, separated, as they worked to aid in the restoration of Edoras. The townsfolk had many needs, and there were still some of Wormtongue's dark warriors to be rooted out.
On the morning of the fifth day, however, they found a quiet moment before the city awoke, in which to talk.
Legolas had pulled Laradel aside, just before the first rays of dawn had yet crept over the distant mountains. The two of them stood upon the backmost steps of their guest quarters, undisturbed by any of their fellow travelers who, being not of the Sindar, were still resting.
"There has not been much peace these past few days," said Legolas in that gentle, quiet tone of his. "No spare moment for me to speak my heart to you."
Laradel, rather boldly, brushed the backs of her knuckles against his. "We have a little time now... Let us make use of it."
She didn't hear his soft intake of breath so much as she felt the air stir between them, and for a moment she wondered if her touch had not been too forward, but Legolas surprised her in turn by drawing nearer, ever so slightly.
"I have spoken with Gimli."
Her heart fluttered.
"And he explained to me the rituals of Dwarven courting braids. He seemed rather amused by the matter of our betrothal."
He always spoke so easily of seemingly complex things.
"That would be because he saw it before either of us did," Laradel told him, with resigned amusement.
Legolas too could not hide a smile.
"He told me, as you did, that a display of craftsmanship is traditional, though not always required. But he also spoke of beads, in relation to the courting braids."
Laradel hesitated. "Yes... That is traditional, but I didn't mention it because I saw no way to acquire any, in times like these, and being so far from Dwarvish lands."
"If I may... I believe I might have a solution."
He held up his hand and slowly opened his fingers to reveal two small, wooden beads that had clearly been painstakingly hand-carved. A Dwarvish rune was inscribed on each, imperfectly, as though by one unfamiliar with the script, but made with all the care in the world.
"I made many inquiries to Gimli in the course of their crafting..." Legolas continued. "I am amazed at his patience with my ignorance." Then, a pause, in which he seemed, for the first time, almost anxious. "I... hope they are satisfactory."
"Legolas..." Laradel said breathlessly, "These are beautiful." She looked up at him earnestly. "My father would have approved."
The look in his eyes told her he knew she referred to Thorin, and a small gleam of pride echoed therein. It was high praise indeed.
"I must finish your braid, then," she told him, eagerly taking up the bead inscribed with the rune for the groom. He stood patiently as she fixed it in place.
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A Peculiar Fellowship
FanfictionLaradel is, by far, the strangest Elf. While she is, admittedly, the best archer in an age, she associates with Dwarves and seems to know little to nothing about the traditions and culture of her own kin. Even so, she makes her way into the Fellowsh...