Feä Bond (Legolas x OC)

Rivendell

The stunning magnificence of the elven city stole her breath away, the landscape showing through the openings as she followed her host around the stone corridors. Lifting up the skirts of her embroidered gown to climb a flight of stairs, Frances marvelled at the sensation on her skin. The smooth aerial silk was the most incredible piece of cloth she had ever worn. After she had slept, bathed and eaten fruits and dry seeds, the young woman had been presented the rich embroidered dress that she was supposed to wear for her encounter with the Lord of the city. Her mouth agape, Frances had protested that she could keep her usual clothes, and was unworthy of such a privilege, being a complete stranger. The blond elf that attended to her had countered that it was suitable garment for a guest of the last homely house, and that she could not possibly be wandering around dressed as a man. Frances had relented.

Her maid did not speak the common tongue so well, but when Frances asked her if the city was safe, she immediately understood her concerns. Frances would not put up a dress if there was the slightest chance they would have to fight or flee. The rather peaceful sounds coming from outside indicated that there was no danger, yet appearances could be deceiving. The maid chattered about a Lord Glorfindel being in charge of the safety of Imladris; if Frances did not get half of it, she understood the message.

Now that the magnificence of the city stood in front of her, Frances held no doubt that the bastion had never been attacked, whether it be because of the power of the elves or luck she did not know. Incredible waterfalls created an enchanting atmosphere as they passed here and there, gliding between buildings and filling the air with moist. The slight breeze played with the volutes of steam, opening curtains of light as sunshine rays descended upon the city. Crossovers and catwalks linked the silvery buildings hanging over the valley, their sides merging with the edges of the mountains as boulders were turned into architectural masterpieces.

Frances walked, her eyes wide open, she realised that the elves' steps were absolutely silent while hers produced an echoing pit pat. The concern quickly faded as the stunning view of a great waterfall graced her eyes, overwhelming her mind with beauty. The young woman had to refrain from running away like a kid to explore every part of the city. The pull of the river was so tempting. Water made her feel safe, it always had and probably always would be this way. Sadly though, they were crossing a long corridor leading to a pair of huge wooden doors. Immediately, anguish came back to claim her. What was she going to tell him? If that guy was really as powerful as Strider said, then lying to him was in no way possible.

Before she knew it both women stood in front of the entrance, and the door squeaked slightly. It was darker inside, and the opening did not make enough room for her to peek in, so when the blond elf showed her the way, Frances did not hesitate and stepped around the massive panel. As she entered in the study, the young woman let her hand rest on the old wood for an instant. The carvings were exquisite, and the feel of wood beneath her palm soother her. Those doors had probably been there for hundreds of years. The gesture did not go unnoticed by the two pairs of eyes that detailed her for the first time.

Frances squinted a little, adjusting to the difference in luminosity. Not that the study was dark, but the light outside had been very bright for late autumn. Two people awaited her to come forth. Standing a few feet from her was a surprising dark-haired elf, his face neither old nor young. His eyes though, a stunning grey, held such wisdom that she felt like kneeling at his feet. The contrast of the raven colour of his hair on his grave figure gave him an air of severity rarely seen amongst his people. That elf radiated power in stunning proportions, and she knew that there was nothing she could keep from him. Lying was simply not an option in the face of those ageless pupils.

- Aside from the kingly elf, an apparent old man was casually sitting in a corner of the room, but his bearing did not fool her for a second. His battered face showed great exhaustion, but there was also a silent determination pouring out of him. Grey hair and beard were covering most of his face, and his clothes did not show anything regarding rank of belonging to any kind of royalty. The plain robes only spoke of hardship and simplicity, there was no information provided in them except that he probably was a traveller, and thus likely to be still in good shape. However, even hidden under his grey mane, there was something that stunned Frances. His eyes were a blue as the ocean, their colour failing at disappearing under the thick eyebrows, and the light buried in their depths was incredibly out of place.