The Exile's Daughter

The Beginning of the End

How I hated nightmares. Waking with a gasp, my eyes wide, my hands shaking, cold sweat trickling down my back. However, this did not feel quite like the others. There was a sense of something else in the depths of my stomach. Not fear, as such; more akin to anticipation, a deep sense of something else coming. Something worse.

Legolas cracked open his eyes, watching the rapid rise and fall of my chest for a moment. He sighed, shuffling closer and pulling me carefully against him. His voice was husky from sleep. "Man chennich, mell nin?" I pushed my head into his chest, feeling his fingers tracing my spine tenderly, and he pressed a kiss into my hairline. (S: what did you see, my beloved?)

"I don't remember", I whispered honestly, "something is coming, my love."

Until I said it, I did not know how true it was. Looking up at Legolas, I met his sharp gaze, no longer hazy from sleep. "What do you mean?"

I sighed, turning from him to lie on my back. "I don't know. Just a feeling."

"I know better than to ignore your instincts." He sat and stretched, leaning across me for his water bottle. He took a couple of gulps and offered it to me. I drained it, already weighed down by exhaustion. He put one hand either side of me and bent, his chest almost touching mine, to kiss my lips tenderly. "Good morning."

I smiled in spite of myself, rubbing his cheekbone with my thumb. "Good morning." He kissed me one more time, far too quickly, and lay down beside me again. I turned to lay my head on his chest, feeling him play idly with my plaited hair.

Neither of us moved for some time; some force prevented me from rising, from ever wanting to be anywhere else but there, with him.

"You are not the only one afraid." Legolas said eventually. I looked up at him and he frowned at the ceiling. "I do not think we will have another morning like this, Nesseldë."

He swallowed. I knew what he meant, and I did not like to dwell on it. We all knew these long tense months would end with a bang rather than a simmer. I could not contemplate the thought of him being in such danger, or of me not being able to protect him. "I'll look after you." He whispered, guessing my thoughts.

"That's what I'm worried about." Legolas almost smiled. I propped myself up on my elbows to face him. He ran his knuckles along my face, drinking in my eyes, then he cupped my cheek in his long-fingered hand, using his other arm to prop himself up. I leaned in to his lips, living every second of the kiss as if it were our last. He lay back down against the cloak he used as a pillow and I followed, sighing in longing as he pulled me closer, one hand on my cheek and the other on my waist. I settled my chest against his, feeling his heartbeat through his thin clothes. He gripped my tunic, tighter by the second.

A child's giggle brought us back to reality. I tore myself away from him, expecting a little face grinning at the window, but I heard the sounds of clapping and realised it was only Imrathiel and Barahir playing together.

I looked back to Legolas and we laughed quietly. "You are so hard to resist." He whispered breathlessly. I kissed him again, gently, and sat up.

"We have things to do."

Before I could stand, Legolas sat, wrapping his arms around my waist, and pulling me close. I responded naturally, looping my arms under his and gripping the back of his tunic. We stayed pressed against each other for what could have been a second or an age. His lips were brushing my neck, mine his collar bone. When we eventually broke apart, he looked white. I rested my forehead against his. "We'll be alright."

He nodded, though I could tell he did not really believe me. "We'll be alright", he repeated.

We ate together in the hut, huddled in our blankets, and, when it could no longer be avoided, walked outside to a perfectly ordinary scene, utterly at odds with the dread in our hearts.