I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight (but not really)

A/N Dedicated to: Lee Taemin because this wouldn't have happened without him (his music, that is), and kyeseul this wouldn't have happened without you either. (also, do not listen to Tease by Taemin for over two hours. Eventually "tease" will start to sound like "cheese" and it simply isn't the same effect)

Sorry it's so long, but I hope it's at least funny.

~~~

The first time that he saw her, she came from the West in the evening, the setting sun accentuating her silhouette, long dark hair flying behind her. She had just come into full view and her golden tinted skin, dark eyes lit with green, tangled black hair could all be seen. No words were spoken between them before the whizz of an arrow was heard and slammed into her back (there was a backpack, don't worry. It was full of peaches), the force of which caused her to pitch off her horse, straight into Beleg's arms.

He stumbled back under her weight, tumbling down in a tangle of arms and legs. When he was able to regain some composure, she was lying on top of him, an arrow sticking out of her bulky backpack.

Her eyes looked into his, and the first words out her mouth, "Looks like you've just fallen for me," she said, every syllable flirted with a bit of a grin curling her lips.

And then, if there was any bit of interest, it dissipated like a drop of water on a sunny rock at noon.

He sat up and she fell back with a small yelp.

Getting up, he brushed himself off a bit before offering a hand. "Are you alright? That was quite the fall."

She shrugged, seeming a bit flustered. "I'm fine. I'm pretty durable." She took his hand, almost tripping again.

He reached behind her to withdraw the arrow, trying to minimize the rip. Juice from the fruit inside had started to stain the bag. The fletching was gray and the shaft pale. It was an elvish arrow. A distance away, a younger archer was trotting up, waving a hand.

"My apologies, Cúthalion, lady," he stopped, panting lightly. "I wasn't expecting anyone to come riding up as I shot."

"Your indifference could have cost a life, Nibendîr." Beleg said as he handed the arrow back.

Nibendîr dropped his head of loose brown waves. "Again, my apologies."

"Why were you practicing so close to a lodge?" Beleg questioned.

Nibendîr shrugged. "I guess I thought no one was around." He said and looked up again, sending a glance to the new arrival, but she only had eyes for Beleg. He noticed the way her eyes roved over the chief march warden. That was... unprecedented.

Beleg felt the gaze too, though he didn't acknowledge it. Nibendîr required his attention. "Keep archery practice to the range. For the sake of other's lives, always assume there are people around."

Nibendir might act lightheaded most of the time, but he felt the reprimand. Beleg could see that from the way his cheeks flushed and lips pouted.

He was the son of a councilor of Thingol. A coddled, thoughtless, nobleman. Beleg tried to be patient, but he was tired of having to put up with the boy's total lack of understanding that this wasn't court, this wasn't a field trip. This was the March. Siege or no siege, war couldn't help but be ever at the back of his mind. But in the meantime. He told Nibendîr to relocate to the training fields and keep practicing before turning his attention to the newcomer.

He surveyed her for a moment. She seemed to have finished her appraisal of him and was staring absently around. Her horse was nowhere to be found. "Your name?" He asked.