Feä Bond (Legolas x OC)

Confession

And there comes the second part of that chapter. Enjoy !

Aragorn settled in the chair, giving Frances the silent treatment until she started talking. And surprisingly, she did. For a while, her voice filled the room, spilling away doubts, fears and frustration in a monologue uttered in such haste that the ranger had to grip the armrests to follow her train of thoughts.

Everything was mixed up in her head, and Frances jumped from pillar to post as fast as her wandering mind would take her. The disbelieving expression on her companion's face wasn't enough to deter her. And soon, she had turned his mind into mush.

She knew that she was falling in love with the Prince of Greenwood. The guilt of cheating on Charlie, sweet sweet Charlie, had not been enough to keep her heart from steering in this unexpected direction. This relationship, the first one of her young life, was slowly but surely becoming a souvenir. The more she thought about it, the more she realised that what Charlie and she had shared was at its best a strong affection.

But it wasn't love. Not really. The bound she had with Charlie paled in comparison of what she felt today. Never before had she reduced her world to a single being. No matter how hard she tried to keep a cool head, the young lady knew that her life revolved around the elf.

Legolas was her sun, he was the air she breathed.

The simple mention of his name made her heart soar. He made the colours brighter, the world livelier by his presence alone. She was head over heels in love with him. There was nothing to do, except to accept it. The only question that remained now was whether she should act on it or deny it altogether.

Had he been human, and she someone from this world, the difference in status alone might have been their undoing. But there was more. So much more that stood in the way. First of all, she didn't know how Legolas felt about her. Secondly, he was a Prince. A goddamn prince! He deserved, no, he ought to marry an elleth with status. But in the end, it wasn't the worst of it. The worst of it was that she, the Keeper of Time, would go home at the end of her mission. And it could be anytime. And even if she didn't, she was a lesser human. Her life span, eighty years if she was lucky, would leave an empty shell of a prince at the time of her death. Frances did not even mention the ageing. There were too many "if' before it even came in the picture.

Eventually, Frances calmed down. A single tear escaped her eye, and she washed it away with her sleeve. Now that her concerns were out in the open, she felt drained. How ridiculous she must seem, she, a young lady of not twenty years, in love with an elven Prince! Now was the time when Aragorn would gently, but surely tell her that her feeling were not reciprocated, and that she had twisted her mind over an impossible feat. Frances let her head fall into her hands, hiding in shame from the steady grey eyes of the ranger.

"Shoot," she said, her voice muffled through her hands.

"I beg your pardon?'

Frances' head popped up, moisture kept at bay in her brown gaze as she straightened.

"Do not hold back on what you wish to say, or treat me like a child. I am ready, I think, to hear your advice."

A warm hand seized hers, and the ranger offered the little comfort he could through this link. Surprisingly, the words that came out of his mouth were melancholic.

"Such is the burden of us, second born, when we set our eyes on which is fairest. There is not much we can do, except to let them take their own decisions, and respect their wishes no matter how painful that may seem

Frances's eyes widened, and her fingers linked around his, waiting for more. His deep gaze, so pensive, held sadness buried deep within his soul.

"I am in a situation similar to yours, and altogether different. Similar, for my lifespan, if greater than yours, can never compare to Arwen's eternity. Different as well for she can choose to become a mortal, and will die a wither for the love of me because she is a Peredhil"