Chapter 80: Hope
A graceful form landed behind her but Frances did not even flinch as she recognised the discreet brushing of the leather boots and the sweet pine scent that filled the air.
"Checking up on me master elf?" she teased while watching the silvery light caress his vibrant hair.
"Hoping that you would rest was a dream, but watching your dance in the moonlight stands no equivalent."
The young woman stood silent, eyes wide. Did he really mean it, he who was ten times as graceful as she? In truth, she was astonished that such an ethereal being could find her clumsy moves worthy to watch, and express liking in it. Yet, she knew the elf to be ever truthful. Never had she caught him lying.
"Thanks, Legolas," she whispered,
Her voice was trembling, the uneasiness calling forth some uncontrollable emotions. Ever since Edoras, Frances had abandoned reasoning over her feelings and decided to let things go the way they were meant to be. Was she giving up or blessing destiny she did not know. Struggle could not help either of them, and it was not worth it. Death was upon them. Charlie had her love still, albeit of a different kind. Nothing in her past life came close to the incredible pool of sensation that assailed her each time the elf's blue eyes lingered over her face. Never had she felt so alive, so free. It was without precedent.
When the Prince looked at her so intensely, she felt like a willow tree caught in a mighty typhoon.
Legolas could feel her confusion like a taste on his tongue, and it only rendered his more present. None of them moved, and they stayed there like two marble statues as the stubborn wind flapped her cloak behind her. His scent was surrounding her, and Frances breathed in the subtle harmony of pine trees and spices as it engulfed her into a bubble of sweetness. Her hands were getting cold, and she grasped the edge of the cloak to cover her arms.
However, before she could bury them into the grey wool warm fingers encased her own. Frozen in place, Frances held her breath while Legolas hesitatingly offered his other hand. His eyes were so deep, his hair shining like a silvery waterfall. Then he took one step closer, and very soon engulfed her in a hug.
Frances' breath caught in the throat; her eyes closed at once. Legolas felt so warm, his body touching hers intimately, his hand shyly sliding to her waist to embrace her small frame. Sighing, Frances buried her face into his shoulder, relishing in the sweet smell of his tunic. Her cold nose burnt at the contact of his throat, but there was nothing in the world that felt better than his closeness.
In his arms, surrounded by him, she felt safer than she had ever been. For a few blissful moments, she almost forgot that death was coming. And after days of incertitude Frances finally knew that if the road had to end her sole consolation would be to rest by his side. Legolas shuddered, overwhelmed by the raw emotion that coursed through his veins. His slight trembling surprised them both, causing them to separate.
"Are you cold Legolas?"
The way she said his name felt like warm water running over slippery rocks, the sensation of sweetness intense but gone in an instant. There was so much reverence put in this simple statement that it always seemed unique, and the foreign sonorities rolled on her tongue, reminding him of her inaccessibility.
"Nay my lady," he whispered softly, his face confused. "Our kind scarcely feel the cold…"
The fire of her soul was so bright that it blinded him totally, occulting the tranquil aura of the elves in favour of a consuming brasier that he may not survive. But it didn't matter anymore; Legolas had made up his mind and pushed the guilt away. If the lady wanted to be his for the little time they had left to live then he would commit to her in any possible way.
"Come," he said.
Legolas grabbed her hand and pulled her down the wall with infinite care. The movement felt familiar to Frances, it was the same she had had from him at Helm's deep. Stumbling up the paved street as she hopped on her good leg, the young woman could not think about anything else than tha warmth of his fingers encasing hers. Soon enough they reached the stables, and the over-excited elf had his horse saddled before she even passed the doors. Lifting an eyebrow in interrogation, Frances watched as the Prince came to her, his gaze sparkling. A concealed smile lightened his feature, only betrayed by the corner of his beautiful lips and the slight cringing of his eyes.
But he said nothing as he threw her cane away in the stables. Neither did Frances, totally and irrevocably enthralled by the glorious sight of him. Then he reached for her. For a mind-blowing instant Frances was in his arms, breathing the peculiar smell of his silken hair, and a moment later he had her seated across the horse. Then, in an incredible demonstration of skill that would have been impossible to a human body, he was suddenly behind her, his whole body touching her so intimately that she blushed.
"Can you hold?" he asked while giving her a curious look.
"I should be all right"
Legolas nodded, and, tightening his hold on her waist, deposited a single kiss in her hair.
"I will not let you fall," he whispered close to her hear.
Frances shuddered at his closeness, but she felt strangely at ease. When Legolas clicked his tongue to Arod, the horse launched himself on the cobbled streets. They passed the gate at full speed, its gaping hole still opened after the latest battle. Surprised at first, Frances managed to get in rhythm. She was by no means a good rider, but Legolas's flawless movement guided her. Soon enough they were getting outside the city, crossing the fields of Pelennor and heading south. The landscape was surprisingly clear under the moonlight, and they slowed to a canter.
"How well do you know the surroundings, Frances?" asked the elf playfully, his mood cheerful.
"I have never been here before.""
"Never have I"
"Then we will discover it together, as we have done on the long travels that brought us here", she said with a smile.
For about half an hour, Legolas urged Arod to a swift gallop. Frances tried to stay on board, hoping to be at least a little graceful. Each time her body tipped sideways to the weakness in her leg, Legolas pulled her tighter against him. It was exhilarating. The wind in her hair, the strength of his hold, the warmth of his body against hers. Never before had she felt so happily free, even when racing her brother down black slopes on her skis. Eventually, a hill came into view, the blurry sides of its forms appearing under the full moon's light. As they came close to it, Legolas slowed Arod and stopped his steed across a clearing.
Not even bothering to dismount, Legolas scooped the young woman in his arms and jumped down, a little cry of fright escaping her lips at the sudden fall.
"Do you trust me so little that you fear me to let you fall down, Frances?"
The young woman looked up and found his eyes glittering with mischief. He then smiled at her, and the world seemed to lighten up as the fine chiselled lines of his face showed happiness, she had never seen them bear. The glorious sight left her speechless, and she could only smile back with all her soul, the sudden expression warming his heart to the core.
"I trust you with my life, Legolas."
"Then I shall be worthy of it, my lady."
Frances expected him to set her on her feet, but he started walking uphill instead.
"Will you not put me down?"
"There is no clear path. It would be too treacherous for your injured leg. But I would not want to impose if you wish to walk by yourself."
His face was concerned. For her leg or in fear of rejection, she could not discern it. Frances thought about it, and she did so quite thoroughly. In normal circumstances she would have wanted to be strong, and would have chosen the hard way so as not to strain her companion and show that she could take care of herself. However, Legolas seemed to manoeuvre with ease, and she felt like a princess clinging so at his side, his body sharing his ethereal warmth with hers.
"I do not wish to be a burden."
"Do not fear Frances, for you never shall be."
There were so many emotions in his blue eyes that Frances measured the intensity of his affections. The future was unsure, and if she did not die, she could not stay. But for the first time in her life, she was truly happy. The hint of hope that shone in his eyes was enough to swell her heart with undying love.
"Then let us go to wherever your heart yearns. And honestly, your arms are pretty comfortable."
Legolas chuckled quietly, a wide smile plastered on his face.
"At your service, my lady."
As the elf started walking anew, she could for the first time, take the full measure of his graceful moves. He evolved amongst rocks and trees without a noise, careful not to bend her leg more than necessary, and swinging her around branches like she was part of his body. Never had she felt surrounded by so much affection. Craving for his warmth, Frances relaxed and her head naturally came to rest in the crook of his shoulder.
Surprised by her move, Legolas lowered his gaze, and the sigh that greeted him settled his heart with happiness. Frances seemed totally oblivious of the situation, her eyes closed and her face perfectly smooth.
The moonlight reflected her features with a silvery light, enhancing the smile that had crept to her lips a she rested against him. A few wild strands of hair surrounded her reddened cheeks, enlightening the smooth line of her unclenched jaw. For once, and for the first time, Frances looked blissfully happy, her peaceful features radiant under the light of the stars. In this blessed moment, nothing else mattered than her small frame against him.
At last they reached the summit, and Frances opened her eyes anew as he settled her over a wide boulder, careful to find a spot sheltered from the wind. Under the moonlight the hills and plains were revealed, their misty shapes melting under the silver light of the stars. Eyes wide open, Frances contemplated the extended fields of grass cut down by bright reflections marking the Anduin's presence.
Further away stood the mountains of Ithilien, waterfalls shining in the sombre slopes. Could she see them, or were her human eyes too weak to spot the sparks of light in the water ? As Legolas sat beside her, she followed his gaze and stared at the magnificent city of Minas Tirith, the seven levels standing against evil and darkness, their high walls protecting the citadel. The white rocks were bathed in moonlight, the city proudly erected in its mighty glory. Never had Frances seen such ghostly beauty, and she gasped at the sight.
There were no words to express what hope laid in the white city, but the fact that it was still standing was a statement. Aragorn, the King of Gondor, held strong, and his erected city would now fight beside him. It was an illusory thought, but if there was still a bit of hope for this world, it now dwelt in Minas Tirith. Her gaze still fixed on the citadel; Frances felt her cloaked being pulled tighter around her. Then, as unexpected at the glorious sight of the city under moonlight, warm fingers enveloped hers and held her fast. His breath brushed her cheek, his warmth at her back as he crouched beside her.
Frances did not dare removing her eyes from the white city, and so she whispered:
"This is beautiful … there are not words to express it."
"This city is magnificent, but it will never be as stunning as you," answered the elf, his voice so low that she nearly did not hear it.
Her voice trembled as she answered:
"I am but a woman, Legolas."
The elf only pressed her hand and stood up, bringing her to follow him and face the citadel.
"Your will is as strong as this city, and for this I admire you. With your trust you have accomplished things that elves have been unable to for thousands of years, Frances. You have been a beacon and brought hope when there was none left. Your spirit stands pure and true in this darkened world, and for this you are more beautiful than anyone will ever be."
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