Feä Bond (Legolas x OC)

The council

As she lifted her eyes to the little community, Frances realised that nearly no time had passed, and most of the guests were still staring at the ring in awe or horror. The central blond elf, however, was not gazing at the jewel, but his deep blue eyes were fixed on her instead. During a few seconds his features stayed motionless as he bore holes into her, probably deciphering her thoughts. It seems like he could see right through her, and although that made her uncomfortable Frances refused to lower her own gaze. There was nothing for her to hide, and her deep chocolate eyes sent him back such sincerity that Legolas would have staggered back where he not seated. It was like she offered her soul for inspection, opening the very core of her spirit for him to judge, and the elf felt like he was prying. However, what he saw in her eyes was so pure that he could not help but smile. Seeing the imperceptible movement of his perfect face, the young woman gave him a timid smile, but the exchange was soon interrupted by the steward's son.

As Boromir's face finally lightened up, he spoke those words:

- "It is a gift ... a gift to the foes of Mordor! Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, held the forces of Mordor at bay ... by the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy ... let us use it against him!"

As the man stood up to emphasis his point, a deep soft voice tried to bring him, back to reality:

- "You cannot wield it. None of us can. The one ring answers to Sauron alone ... it has no other master."

Those words found their mark in Frances' mind, confirming what she had previously concluded. Such an amount of power un-mastered could bring catastrophic results, but the son of Gondor refused to see it that way. As his face contorted in disdain, the young woman realised that the ring must be pulling at his strings to taunt him. Which were they ? Pride, or sorrow for his own people ? The steward's son turned his arrogant face to Strider and said:

- "And what would a ranger know of this matter?"

The silence that followed was short. Nonetheless the man did not react to this insult, merely reflecting his pity for Boromir in his ageless grey eyes. However, one of the council members did not accept this rebuke so easily, and Frances watched with wide eyes the angry statement of the central wood elf, the one who has smiled at her, as he stood up sharply:

- "This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance"

Gasping in surprise, Frances turned a questioning look to the ranger. As everything clicked into place, a small smile spread on her lips. He had told her of his family, the Dunedain and the line of Elros, but her knowledge of middle earth was not extended enough yet, and she had not made the connection between Isildur and the current situation at hand. The implications for Gondor were huge. Frodo looked stunned, but somewhere in his eyes reflected the same relief as Frances. It all made sense to him, because he too had seen something more in the ranger's ways.

This revelation, however, was not to Boromir's liking, and she could understand his reasons. The steward's house had probably been working hard to maintain Gondor's integrity, and the appearance of a dead line king was not good news to their house.

- "Aragorn? This is Isildur's heir?"

- "And heir to the throne of Gondor", added the elf, shaking with anger.

Before the confrontation turned bitter, the new called Aragorn – another name to add to his long list - turned to his elvish friend in an attempt to pacify the exchange.

- "Havo dad, Legolas", said his soothing voice.

His face reflecting a bit of confusion, the elf eyed the heir of Gondor for a second and finally nodded while sitting down. Frances had heard enough of elvish to know what the order meant, but it surprised her that the wood elf had relented. Furious as he seemed, there was a deeper understanding between the two warriors than met the eye. Cut down in her reflexion by an angry line from the steward stated that Gondor needed no King; she gazed at the man as he regained his seating. It was not the first time that she saw him this morning, but the pride that had tainted his bearing when she had crossed his path had now turned to arrogance and hostility. It was amazing how his face had transfigured, and Frances wondered if this was linked to his loyalty to the land of Gondor, or rather to the influence of the ring. Perhaps it was a combination of both, but whatever the reason she felt a pang of uneasiness to share the council with someone enslaved by his feelings. It was so weakly human to react by anger and bitterness that it seemed very out of place in this enchanting city.