Building Ithilien [Legolas] LOTR

Love Mingled with Grief

In the previous chapter:
"No," Miredhel stopped him, "even so, I would still help."  She took a deep breath before looking steadily into his eyes.  "I would still serve you, my lord," she said.  "I would, and I shall, for the world changes and I must change with it."   She hesitated but then shakily reached for his hand, and Legolas wondered at her unease.  Her eyes had never left his, and both took comfort in the other's gaze.  Legolas placed his other hand on top of her own.  Miredhel stole a glance up toward her brother.  Eledhel still slept.

"There is much I must tell you," she began...

All Legolas could think of was how her hand fit perfectly in his own, and how he feared to look away from her soft dark eyes as if all that had come to pass might fade from him like a dream upon waking. And if this was a dream, Legolas did not want to wake up. Before him sat a girlish slip of an elf who had shown courage in the face of dragons, who would gladly risk his anger if it meant speaking her mind, and who spoke to him now as a friend, and Legolas longed for that closeness, to have her smile or even laugh with him the way she would with her brother or the twins. He had known many elvish beauties before the War and had treasured them all, but the prince had never found true friendship with any of them; he supposed that was why none of those relationships ever lasted very long. Of course, he had always counted Celeril as one of his greatest allies and confidantes, but she was his sister and did not really count.

Legolas wanted to prove to himself that he could do this—that he could find friendship in the unlikeliest of places, that mysterious creature before him, who had openly scorned his every advance. If he could find friendship with a dwarf, he could find it with her. She intrigued him. Even now her eyes glowed with a warmth that had not before been there, and he thought her more lovely than when they first met under the stars in Lothlorien.

He sensed that she felt nervous but debated the cause. Were his actions at fault? Had he been too hard on her? Legolas admitted to himself that he had looked upon her as an adversary, someone to be conquered, and this afternoon, when her first tear fell, he knew that he had won. He had defeated her. Only this victory made him feel rather pathetic and disgusting. To win her affection would prove a much more glorious pursuit, and he would endure the worst throes of battle to claim it.

Tonight was a start, for both Miredhel and Legolas had put forth a concerted effort at being pleasant to the other. Legolas decided that if he wanted to win her friendship, he must first develop her trust. Simply put, he wanted her to trust him, and at the moment, she looked as if she were very uncomfortable. She had something she wanted to confess, or tell him, but whatever Miredhel had been planning to say—Legolas silently decided—could wait, and before she could begin her tale, he stopped her.

"Lady Miredhel," he said. "You are shaking. What troubles you so? Tell me so I may help."

"I must speak with you about a matter most personal. I should have told you when first we met, but I did not...for foolish reasons. Now I know I must."