To Tame A Fire

4. Fëanára

Legolas awoke at the first rays of light. He turned on his side to see Rhavaniel still sound asleep, and he couldn't help but smile. For once she looked at peace, and he hated to wake her.

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he roused himself and rolled up his bedroll.

The fire had long died out. He dug a small hole in the ground and buried the charred wood and covered it with the dirt making it look undisturbed. Legolas then crouched by Rhavaniel and tapped her shoulder. "Rhavaniel. Time to get moving."

She awoke and blinked her eyes. How often was it she slept without tormenting dreams? Not often enough.

Her thoughts were disturbed by a pain in her arm, and she lifted a hand to massage her swore arm.

Legolas noticed and speculated that it pained her. "May I look at your arm?" He didn't even try last night; she wouldn't let him near her.

"I don't need your help," Rhaveniel muttered.

"I am offering it to you."

"I'm fine." Rhavaniel focused her eyes on the rising sun, avoiding his eyes.

"It doesn't make you weak for accepting aid, Rhavaniel," Legolas sighed.

She merely nodded and dropped her hand from her arm.

Legolas smiled. Maybe he was getting somewhere with her. He took her arm in his hand and lifted her sleeve. It was reddish but not swollen. Pressing on the muscles, he watched her face for any sign of pain. "Does this pain you?" He pressed his thumb on her bicep and Rhavaniel winced. "It seems to me it's only a strained muscle. Rest it and when we arrive at the camp, use a cold compress. Here," he pulled a small tin of ointment from his pocket. "This will ease any pain."

Rhavaniel jerked her sleeve down. "I don't need it." She hoisted herself to her feet and brushed past Legolas.

Legolas sighed and stuffed the tin away. He rolled up her bedroll and strode over to his horse. Strapping it on the saddle, he called over his shoulder. "There is dried fruit and lembas if you are hungry." He pulled out enough for two and handed a portion to Rhavaniel who took it without gratitude.

"Is there another horse," asked Rhavaniel.

"No. You will have to ride with me."

At this, Rhavaniel's eyes shot up and Legolas nearly backed away at the intensity of her gaze. "I will not! I'd rather walk," she sputtered.

"Must I throw you over my shoulder then?" Legolas approach her, and their eyes clashed, daring each other to say something. "I will be glad to rid myself of your foul present once we reach the camp and not before."

Rhavaniel placed her hands on his chests and pushed him before storming over to the steed. Damn you Legolas, she sulked.

Legolas stayed put for a moment to control his mounting anger before following her. He mounted his horse and offered his hand to Rhavaniel who in turn, shrugged him off. "Do you wish to ride in front or behind?" Legolas could have sworn her eyes darkened.

"Neither if it were my choice." Rhavaniel reluctantly mounted behind him and crossed her hands. "Well, go, Your Highness."

Legolas glared at her disrespectful tone and glanced over his shoulder. "Hold on. I won't be picking you up if you fall, Fëanára."

Rhavaniel frowned at the nickname. She glared at Legolas and placed her hands on his hips.

"Around Rhavaniel, you're wasting time."

Finally, she reluctantly wrapped her arms around his slim waist. Her body pressed closer to him, and she closed her eyes in annoyance. His body was warm and masculine, and quite distracting.

Legolas urged his horse forward into a gallop. He felt her hands tighten around his waist, and his lips curved upward. It was a start.

The rode for hours, only stopping to water the horse and off again after that. Legolas could see the camp entered his vision and relief washed over him.

Rhavaniel's eyes focused on the many guards in the trees.

They horse moved faster, eager for rest and food, and soon they entered the elven camp. All eyes shot up and curious stares were sent their way. Legolas' patrol looked at Rhavaniel in confusion. She was not assigned to be here, she should be at the barracks training.

Legolas dismounted, and Rhavaniel followed. An elf came and took the horse with a bow and Legolas thanked him. He turned to Rhavaniel who was inspecting every inch of the camp. "Don't even think about leaving."

"I didn't say I was, was I?"

Rhavaniel's witty remark angered Legolas, and he grabbed her good arm. He leaned in till his lips almost brushed her pointed ear. "You will do well to remember that I am Prince in these woods," he hissed. "And you will do as I command."

Rhavaniel couldn't hide the shudder that crept up her spine, and she jerked her arm away. "Maybe the Prince, but not the King."

Legolas threw his hands up in frustration and watched her storm off. Such disrespect should be punished, but he held himself back. Shaking his head, he ignored the many stares and made his way over to Ithreon who very much seemed on the verge of laughter.

"Looks like you've met your match, Mellon nin." Ithreon chuckled and clamped his agitated friend's back.

"Shut up, Ithreon."

Both elves entered the tent and Ithreon cast an eye to his friend. "All went well?"

"She was captured," Legolas shook his head a muttered something under his breath.

Ithreon brows furrowed in concern. "Is she hurt? I couldn't tell if it was from an injury that she lost all senses..."

"Surprisingly no, save for a torn muscle. I wish to speak with her about the whole situation, though I assume it might be impossible."

Ithreon walked over to his desk and poured two glasses of wine. Walking back to Legolas, he handed him a goblet and watched him down the wine in one go. "If anyone can, it is you, Legolas. She has potential. Don't give up on her."

Legolas fixed his eyes on his empty goblet and nodded. "Aye. You are right."

Translations: Mellon nin: my friend

Fëanára: spirit of flame. It is originally "Fëanáro" but I decided to make it more feminine ;)

Word count: 1,088 

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