Feä Bond (Legolas x OC)

To save myself

The picture does not belong to me, you'll find the owner at the bottom. But it's soo good ! Down to the expression of Elrohir who tends to be more laidback than Elladan.

As Gimli's heavy steps retreated, a voice called Frances back to the campfire. A voice that she'd rather not hear again. Too bad the man couldn't keep silent.

"Do you not cook, Lady Frances?"

Irksome, this one, she thought. Had he not seen her injury? Or was it just a way to make her mad? The young lady turned to the badly behaved ranger, and straightened her spine.

"Only when I have my induction stove" she answered.

The ranger's dark eyebrows rose to his forehead.

"Will you always answer my questions with riddles?"

"I have to admit that I enjoy it immensely."

Ah. He was stunned now. And angered as well. She could see the tension of his jaw, and the sparks his grey eyes sent in her direction. They were nothing like Aragorn's; where his showed wisdom, Halbarad's only reflected the harshness of his character. Around them, several of his men, all dark-haired, were listening to the conversation. One of them, a lad, was trying to stifle a laugh.

"So, if you do no cook. Maybe you can mend shirts?"

Frances stiffened, remembering the last shirt she had mended for Boromir. Her ire grew then, and she snapped harshly.

"Unless you went them to turn Frankenstein."

"If that means no, then what talents do you bring to this company?"

Halbarad was no fool, so he refrained from veiling an insult as to the use of a woman in a soldiers' camp. Especially when she seemed to be in the good graces of most of the men around him. Elf and dwarves included. A few paces from here, the blond prince was ready to bite his head off, his jaw tense. Still, the woman was infuriating. How could they stand keeping such a liability among them?

"Wow, you sure know how to talk to women."

Her icy tone was laced with anger.

"Do not mistake my meaning. You are wounded, and in no position to fight nor to cover great distances. We will accompany our lord Aragorn to war, and it is no place for a girl. Especially a wounded one."

Girl. He had called her a girl. Frances was fuming. He could see it from her clenched fist and the hard look on her face. Yet, Legolas did not dare defend her. In his own way, Halbarad was right. Only death awaited her. Couldn't she see it too? No, of course, she was too stubborn to relent. And he knew what was coming. Frances would lash out, her words unforgiving, before draping herself in her dignity. She could be, sometimes, so immature. The elf let his gaze drop to his knees; his hands were trembling. Why was he so angry with her?

"My decisions are my own." Eventually came her stern reply. "So get a wife; she'll quench your thirst for domination."

Suddenly, Halbard was standing, a dangerous gleam shining in his eyes. Frances refrained from shifting further away from him. She did not want to show him how frightening he could be through his rage.

"I have a family. And it is to protect them that I fight!"

Frances's face softened, and the elf saw a pang of regret in her gaze.

"All right, it's no use getting all emotional. Aragorn will decide, and we will follow."

The ranger's eyes darted behind her. Aragorn, chieftain of the Dunedain, was exiting his tent and coming their way.