Chapter 17 ~ Glimpse of the Past (M)

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MATURE

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𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑬𝒙𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔 - 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒖𝒊𝒍𝒅 𝒖𝒑 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚. '𝑻𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍.

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The peaceful hours of the night swept by all too swiftly for Legolas

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The peaceful hours of the night swept by all too swiftly for Legolas. All had been quiet, with only the soft scurryings of natural animals and the song of crickets to be sensed.

Legolas had shifted to recline against the sloping right side of the natural oak grown bench. He had drawn the sleeping Faeriel with him so she could lay her head upon his chest. Her length nestled between the smooth oak that formed the cottage wall behind the bench and the left side of his body, over which she was slightly draped. Legolas' left arm still surrounded her, his hand splayed in the curve of her waist. Thus was he blessedly, blissfully trapped, warmth blooming throughout him, entirely at the mercy of his prevailing giddiness.

It was odd, he mused. He did not recall the side of the bench to be so sloped. Perhaps the tree had reshaped to ease Faeriel's rest.

Her mysterious magic twinkled from her, now subtler in the course of slumber. It drifted into his fingers and all the places their bodies touched, flowing through his dimensions, both calming and exhilarating him. So did the gentle rise and fall of her breath against the side of his chest and waist.

Oft did Legolas raise his gaze to the canopy of dark branches interspersed with twinkling stars... but he had not been able to resist tipping his chin down equally as often to behold the flower who had taken root in his heart.

Waves of fluttery excitement burgeoned in his chest ere he drank in the sight of her. He had drawn her blankets up to her neck, and her fair face poked sweetly out of them. Never did he tire of this vision, but he missed the bronze laced emerald of her gems, now shrouded in their thick curtains. Every so often her lashes flickered, signs that dreams spiraled in her unconsciousness. Odd that she sleeps nightly...

Legolas lamented the passing of the hours, occasionally consoling himself by running his fingers oh so softly upon her long curls. Nerves he never knew he possessed tingled brightly in his skin, now awakened by she who held his heart.

Presently, Legolas let his lashes descend, soothed by her warmth and the serene, dreamy hooting of an owl. He knew he would need to waken her an hour hence so that they could make rendezvous with the company, lest scouts be sent to find him. I shall treasure this last hour of her warmth. Legolas sighed, a smile hovering upon his lips.

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