Building Ithilien [Legolas] LOTR

Such Sweet Sorrow

The morning waned as the sun climbed and both elves loathed to leave the other's side. Miredhel and Legolas were as any young couple, in any walk of life, race, shape, or circumstance. For all intents and purposes, their hearts and minds were as any youths' who first find bliss in the look, the touch, or even the kiss of another. The way they felt for each other was certainly nothing new in Middle Earth. Many before them had lived and loved. Miredhel and Legolas' courtship might have continued in the similar, routine fashion of countless others, had Fate left them alone.

Yet in this tale of Ithilien, Fate abandoned simplicity. The Valar looked toward Middle Earth and saw much beyond reckoning. The Fellowship, the destruction of the One Ring, and the passing of the Three brought with them the end of an age, a great transition, and nothing is ever simple at such times. Kingdoms would rise and fall, and all would taste the blood and sweetness of death and love, and everything in between. Ithilien proved no differently. The prince of Mirkwood and his people were no exception. Legolas and Miredhel and all their kin and friends would face the pain of change, and the turmoil bought of a new era. Such were the times.

Miredhel wondered how she came to be there, with him, in his arms. To be in such a place felt so completely natural and yet so horribly wrong. Many things he had been to her—from enemy to rival, rival to savior, and leader to friend, but now he was something infinitely more dear. She looked at his hand holding hers and slowly brought it to her lips, kissing his hand, gentle and terrible. Smooth, slender, no traces of any archers' calluses could be seen. How many lives had fallen at his hands? She had fallen to them as well and now they held her. She ran her thumb across the top of his fingers and kissed them. He looked up at her and smiled a slow smile.

Miredhel felt her chest constrict as if though an invisible force squeezed her heart. Never had she felt so powerless in the face of any single person. Control had become a habit with her in years of late, and now she struggled to separate and confine even the most base of emotions. She had tried so very hard to set him aside. Yet when he confessed how he felt for her, she had kissed him. A regrettable mistake. 'Almost,' she smiled to herself. For now her emotions rushed where they may, and she could scarcely mark her own actions, all in the name of a simple kiss. But she had gained much in return. He had kissed her back, looked at her with eyes indescribable, and made her feel ways that no other elf had ever made her feel. A single look into his eyes confirmed the amount of power he held over her by the way it made her pulse quicken. Miredhel was losing control, and she knew it. Her eyes wandered from his hands to meet his eyes, and she faltered again under his gaze. Those eyes, could she trust them? She shyly dropped her chin and looked away.

Her expression was one of such utter seriousness, that he could not help but wonder what the cause. Had he made her uncomfortable somehow? Were his actions at fault? Whatever the cause for her sudden withdrawal, he would remedy it twice over.

He looked at her and lifted her chin with his fingertips, ever so gently. "Miredhel?" he asked. "What are you thinking of, right now?"

She would never had considered telling the prince what really weighed on her mind, which of course was highly personal and concerned the both of them. Instead, she shrugged and observed aloud that he was not wearing his signet ring, which she had seen him wear last night. "Did you lose it?" she asked innocently, hoping to change the subject.

Legolas regarded her carefully. Not only was she more observant than he gave her credit for, she had also skillfully avoided answering his question! He had pulled the ring off his finger during his stormy return from the council meeting. He guiltily wondered if she suspected anything that had happened. Had his emotions been that obvious? Well, if she wanted to be evasive, then he certainly could too.

Instead of answering her question, Legolas kissed the ends of one of her curls before letting it fall from his fingertips. The sun now streaked through the tent in lazy beams, illuminating her eyes and the gold of her hair. For the first part of the morning, he had thought only of her, but now as noon approached, he knew he would be called upon to help plan, looking at charts and maps, the course they would take, the provisions they would need. He could not fall back on his father's guidance in these matters. The success of this journey relied on Legolas alone, and his stomach tightened into one massive knot just thinking about it.