Daughter Of Lórien || Book 1||

Ch 42 ~ From Dusk til Dawn

The celebration in the courtyard is still at it's peak when Legolas and I stumble back onto the balcony high above. We had sprinted from the kitchens, ignoring the incredulous looks from the servants as we dashed through the halls like a pair of fools.

Legolas' hand is still tightly clasped in mine as we attempt to catch our breath, the tray full of our stolen pastries heavy in the other.

He meets my gaze, cheeks pink with exhilaration and hair lightly tousled.

"I'm certain the servants now think we've had a little too much to drink tonight."

I laugh. "I can't blame them."

We slip into a comfortable silence as our gazes turn to the scene below. Our hands are still clasped, fingers becoming intertwined sometime during the rush of our flight. My nerves prickle with excitement where the heat of his skin meets mine, twisting my stomach into knots. And even though every instinct is telling me to do so, I can't bring myself to let go.

"You should try this one."

I turn back to Legolas, a round pastry now in his hand, it's smooth white-chocolate coating silvery in the starlight.

A light smile plays on his lips as he explains, "It's my favorite."

He brings it to my mouth, sparks shooting through me at the ever-so-slight touch of his thumb against my lip as I take a bite.

The pastry is overwhelmingly decadent, sending my taste bud's into a frenzy and yet all I can think about is the slight brush of his thumb against my lip. The shiver it sends down my spine.

I shake the thoughts from my head, focusing my attention back on the pastry.

"It's delicious. What is it called?"

He pops the rest of it into his mouth. "Celeb-Melui."

Silver sweets.

I grin at the name and pick out another pastry from the tray, this one dark and shaped like a rose.

"This one is my favorite. Arwen and I would always try to make them at home and to the dismay of the head chef, end up with a chocolaty mess instead."

He laughs, the reflection of the stars twinkling in his eyes as he brings his lips down to my fingers and gently takes the delicate pastry into his mouth.

His eyes widen as he chews. "Is that berry I taste?"

I laugh at the surprise written across his face, nodding. "You can imagine how difficult they are to make."

We continue to feed each other sweets, sharing tidbits of information as we exchange them, the sounds of our laughter echoing down to the courtyard. Eventually, the pastries diminish, as does the lively chatter and activity of the guests below our perch. The minstrels' pace goes from upbeat to gentle, their notes sweet and slow.

Their light melody floats up to us now, soft and lilting; a lullaby. It wraps around us, a soothing calm in the flurry of the evening as I watch the stragglers still dancing below us, a content smile playing on my lips. I'm faintly aware of Legolas' warm gaze on me but it isn't until his fingers brush mine that I turn my attention back to him.

His eyes twinkle, a reflection of the stars' pale light, and fixed solely on me as he takes my hand in his and bringing it up to his lips, brushes a faint kiss along my knuckles. My heart responds with a leap in my chest.

"May I have this dance, my lady?"

His smile is warm and inviting, tugging me toward him and yet something issues a soft warning in the back of my mind and I falter, glancing down at the crowd of revelers still far below us. But Legolas' hand only tightens in mine, the scrape of his calluses against my fingers a familiar comfort.