Thorns & Roses (Legolas Love Story)

33. Denial

It was that night in Dwimorberg mountain when Legolas and I sneaked away. He had just proposed to me. Though the sounds from the camp had quieted down, neither one of us were willing to move from our hide out. Neither wanted to part from each other’s embrace.

It was a cold night, but Legolas’ warmth seeped into me as I leaned my back against his chest, his arms enveloping mine lovingly. From here, I could smell forest and rain mixed with his own masculine smell–something that I had associated with home. His hand brushed against my hands and arms leisurely, almost absent mindedly, yet every stroke of his touch sent my skin tingling, making it hard for me to hide my excitement and happiness around him.

Legolas seemed to notice this. After all, he could hear my heart. Every beat. Every breath I took. I looked far into the darkness ahead, but somehow was able to feel his burning yet sweet gaze on me. I was turned into a mush, knowing exactly that he was aware of it. I waited for him to tease me about it, but it never came.

Legolas was far too good to me for that. So I decided to brave myself and tilted my head a bit to look at him, only to find his beautiful eyes regarding me as if I was his most prized possession. As if I was everything that was holding his world together.

I looked slightly away. Partly because I didn’t think I could handle his gaze much longer; the overwhelming passion, the love. Partly because I knew deep down that I didn’t deserve it.

I felt the tip of his nose and lips teasing my right cheek, drawing a bashful yet contented smile out of me. I felt his smile matching mine, his now greyish looking orbs glittering under the shadow of the moonlight, holding a certain mischief and mirth in it.

“What is on your mind, meleth?” he asked, voice rang like a bell to my ears, making me feel tingles all over.

“You,” I answered.

His eyes smiled, obviously happy with my rather vague answer. “What about you? What is going on under that perfect hair of yours?” I asked, trying to divert his attention away.

This got Legolas chuckling. “You know what I am thinking already. ‘Tis obvious,” he said with a smirk, looking at me with his alluring gaze. I played dumb.

“No, it’s not. Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking, so I know what kind of thing I should be thinking.”

At this Legolas seemed to be lowering his gaze a little as if he was a bashful elf.

“Tis nothing. I probably just got ahead of myself,” he mumbled. Upon a curious look that I gave him, he continued. “I’m thinking about the elfling twins of Lothlorien. Gorwyn and Gorwed.”

“Huh. The duo pranksters of Lothlorien. And here I thought you share the same sentiment as I do when I told you I was thinking about you,” I teased him, earning another chuckle from him.

“I was thinking about you too. I just thought of how good you were with them,” he said with a small reminiscing smile on his handsome face, “I think you’ll be a great mother.”

I felt my face heating up with what he was implying. To cover it up, I tried to play it easy with him. “And I have no doubt you’ll be the best Adar (father) in Middle Earth.”

We both smiled at each other bashfully. Despite the slight bashfulness between us, I could see his beautiful eyes sparkled with hope and daydream–a look that I found simply heart-melting. He didn't say it out loud–he didn't have to. The look in his eyes told me that being a father was secretly one of the things that Legolas desired. It only made sense. He had lived this life for many centuries and I knew how much the elves honor life. Surely, someday he'd want a family of his own–and to be honest with myself: I wanted it too.