I jerked awake with a start, my mind still lost in the coattails of nightmare. But at least it hadn’t been yet another Vala with warnings. Blinking my eyes, I tried to remember where I was.
It didn’t take long for it all to come back. As I looked down from where I was propped up on my elbow, I could stare into Legolas’s serene face. Oddly enough, his eyes were closed as he slept, one hand still bound to mine and curled up by his head, the other low on my back, his fingers splaying lower over the swell of my hip and butt. His chest was bare as I stared down at him, but I realized it hadn’t been only a moment before. I was sprawled across his front as I slept on my stomach, our legs entwined even as I had burrowed into his chest, covering him like a living blanket.
His eyes blinked lazily open, as though aware of my perusal.
“I’ve never seen you sleep with your eyes closed,” I couldn’t help but telling him. “I’ve seen you sleeping a few times on our journey, but your eyes were always open and sort of glassed over.” This had truly seemed strange enough at the time.
He smiled as his free hand slid sensually up my back in feather-light caresses, that satisfied, almost arrogant grin returning when I shuddered in response. The arrogance would have bothered me, except for the fact that it was well earned—my body shuddered and coiled in answer to even his simple touch. But his hand continued its path until he’d laced his fingers in the hair at my nape and tugged me downward, back to lie on his chest, seeking a gentle kiss.
I let him pull me down, pressing my lips briefly to his in a closed mouth kiss before I pulled away to expectantly await his answer.
He laughed, a light happy sound that bounced me up and down on his chest in time with his movements. “Elves often seek only a light reverie when we are traveling, it is a light rest which allows us to remain wary of our surroundings, but we do need deeper rests as well. Especially if we are injured, ill, or it has been a particularly extended period without real rest. Short respites of reverie each night can last us many months. Yet, rarely do we sleep thus outside of Elven homes, and only when we are completely at ease.”
“You’re at ease with me? But it hasn’t been that long since we left Lórien. It was an Elven home. And I’ve seen you in short bits of reverie many nights since. I’m just surprised to see you actually sleeping.”
Legolas’s fingers curled and twined in my hair at my nape, lightly scratching my scalp and forcing me to bite off a moan at the sensations. Who the hell knew having your hair and scalped massaged could be such a sensual experience?
“How could I be more at ease? You are within my arms, your heart beating against mine. In answer to your other inquiry, I fear I got little rest, even in reverie after you had departed with Mithrandir. Reverie requires some degree of tranquility and peace to achieve, and I fear mine had fled to Gondor with the wizard.”
He gave a lopsided smile as he spoke, and I lowered myself onto his chest again, pressing a kiss of apology to the skin over his heart. “I didn’t sleep well either while I was away,” I admitted into his smooth flesh.
With a grunt of agreement, he continued curling his fingers in my hair. “I feared as much. On our journey, I observed you in sleep little, far less than even Aragorn, yet last night, I watched you sleep peacefully for near an hour before I let myself slip into sleep. And we have slept well past daybreak now.”
I turned my head on his chest and looked out the balcony doors; light was indeed spilling across them. “Huh. I can’t remember when the last time was I slept so late.”
Just wish I wasn’t woken up by the same old thing.
“What did wake you?” Legolas asked.
I glanced back down into his eyes with a frown. “Just bad dreams. Nothing to worry about.”
His hand stilled in my hair. “Tell me.” It was spoken quietly, but his eyes said he wouldn’t let up.
With a reluctant sigh, I rolled off Legolas’s chest and onto my side again, making it easier to look each other in the eye. “I guess I hadn’t really slept more than a couple of hours here and there—light napping really, not deep sleep. I don’t think I’ve slept deep enough to dream since Rohan maybe. Maybe longer. But I had terrible dreams of Sauron being in my mind again and of being trapped and a prisoner once more. Nothing I haven’t dreamt before—except for Sauron, I guess—no big deal. They’re just dreams.”
He made a disbelieving noise. “Yes, your dreams are not a problem,” he said in a sarcastic tone. “Save for the fact that they keep you from receiving the rest you need.”
I shrugged, wondering if it was my tendency towards sarcasm was rubbing off on him. “I’ve never needed as much sleep as normal humans do. My little gift for being one-quarter fairy, I guess.”
I shrugged and changed the topic. “What about you? Do elves dream like mortals do?”
His frown said he saw the diversionary question for what it was, but he shook his head and answered anyway. “Elves do dream, yet not in the manner I understand mortal dreams to be. Mortals have no control over the course of their dream, but as we age, elves learn to take our dreams down our own chosen paths.”
“And where do you choose to steer your dreams?” I wondered wistfully.
With gentle caresses, Legolas traced the pads of his fingertips across my face, the long digits following paths I couldn’t see. “I was imagining that I had met you years earlier, before time had placed any mark upon you, when you were years younger than you are now.”
I jerked away from his hand, confused and baffled by his admission. “What, am I too old for you? I know I’m no spring chicken, but I assure you, I look pretty damn good for my age.”
At the bitterness in my voice, Legolas’s mouth dropped open, though no words came out as he gaped and seemed to replay his words through his mind.
“Nay!” he denied with a gasp, pressing frantic and apologetic kisses to the hand bound with his before I could try to pull it away as well. “I have spoken poorly. Forgive my words. That was not my intent. I merely meant that I wished we had met sooner so that I would have as many of your mortal years to myself as I am able.” He scooted closer to me on the bed, pressing kisses against my face. “Never had I meant to imply I found your beauty lacking! Your years and experiences have only deepened your beauty, giving it depth no shallow, girlish youth could possess. Though you are not given to smiling often, each time a smile lights your face—especially when you grace me with one—my breath is stolen by its beauty, for I know the depths of sorrow you have felt, and I marvel that such smiles and gentleness still thrive in your heart.”
I chuckled and shook my head, a small smile stealing across my lips despite myself. “If you can recover that spectacularly in every argument, I don’t think we’ll ever have to worry about constant fighting like some married couples.”
He grinned, looking relieved. “My lord father had assured me I would one day quarrel with my lady wife, and that the sooner I saw and admitted my fault, the best I could minimize the damage.” He shook his head while a rueful grin crept in. “Yet I never imagined how right he would be, nor how soon I would prove my father a wise ellon.”
I laughed at his expression, the one children wore when they realized their parents might know a thing or two. I’d found myself thinking more and more of my mother since arriving in Middle-earth, and realizing she knew a few things as well.
“Well, you’re already ahead of me,” I chuckled. “If we have great rows, it’ll probably be more because I am the one who won’t be able to say she was wrong.”
“Ahh, but my father told that after great rows was the joy of reconciliation.”
As he spoke, he grinned and moved closer, kissing me with a gentle but insistent demand, until he’d left me gasping for air.
He looked away as he whispered, “I shall never regret that you do not possess the frivolous desires and emotions of youth, but my heart is haunted by the thought of how fleeting your mortal years shall seem.”
“How old do you think I am?”
His eyes snapped back to mine, seeming almost suspicious of the question, so I smiled to let him know it was no trap.
“I do not … that is to say … I have not a great deal of knowledge on how mortals age,” he stuttered, still seeming to feel it was a trick question. So I made an encouraging motion with my hand. He reached out and traced a finger around one side of my mouth as he continued. “Your skin is still taut and clear with the remnants of youth, yet the slightest of shadows have begun where one day a line of age and experience shall lie. You have told me of your years in your people’s military, as well as your captivity and years as a police officer,” he spoke the last words slowly, trying to enunciate “police” correctly. “By those years of experience I should think that your face would hold a greater reflection of that passage of time and hardships, yet I see it in your eyes alone, save for your scars. Your face holds such a strange pairing of youth and depth. I have not seen the like in the Rohirrim nor in these Gondorians, only Aragorn reminds of this mysterious blending. Though his ancestry is Dúnedain and not as other mortals.”
A light seemed to go off in his eyes. “The Dúnedain trace their blood back to Elros—to Elven blood. You too are descended from an immortal race. Does that—”
His words seemed to die in his throat, as though from a fear to speak them.
I dipped my head in a single nod. “I don’t know how it compares to the Dúnedain, but my aging hasn’t progressed like a normal human’s since I went through puberty, so I’m older than I look. My father is well over five-hundred years, and still possesses that handsome Fae quality of youth, though now gracefully lined by his many years. His hair is still quite dark however, not yet turning to gray. I am myself now over ninety-two, I believe. I was born sometime during the Irish War of Independence. I remember my mother saying she lost two of her brothers to it the same year I was born. I’m just unsure of the exact year.”
“Ninety-two,” he gasped in wonder, and I could see the wheels turning as he tried to estimate how many years I might have left.
“I just don’t know, Legolas. As you so diplomatically put it, I’ve just begun to show the shadows of lines and wrinkles, so I won’t last near the five-hundred years my father has already made.” I shrugged. “I just can’t say.”
“Why did you not tell me this?” he demanded, his face still full of happy wonder.
“What was I supposed to say? Hi, I’m from another world and not really like humans here. Can I tag along with you guys since I’m lost? Oh, and by the way, I don’t look like it, but I’m actually old enough to be your great-grandmother.”
He grinned and suddenly pressed a deep kiss to my lips, his tongue sweeping out in a demand for entrance. In my surprise, I gasped and let him lead.
All too soon, he pulled back and said, “You forget that I am far older than even your ninety-two years; more than two thousand years I have seen. I am overjoyed at the thought that we shall have many years yet together. An eternity would not seem enough, yet I shall strive to fill what years Ilúvatar shall grant us with bliss.”
He kissed me again and then went on, “It is a wonderful thing to me! I am relieved to think of how many years we shall yet have. Your immortal bloodline seems even stronger than Aragorn’s. His face is slightly more lined by age than yours, yet he has seen eighty-eight years now.”
“Eighty-eight years?” I laughed. “I can’t believe I’m older than Aragorn! I was counting on one mortal being older than me.”
I grinned at Legolas’s laughing and infectious happiness, finding such laughter and jubilant smiles more of a turn on than anything I’d ever seen or experienced before. I pushed on our bound hands again until I could move to straddle Legolas’s waist. Laughing at the happy, boyish grin he flashed as he readily let me straddle his hips.
“Are you sure you won’t grow bored at the prospect of even more years stuck with me?”
“Nay. Never,” he solemnly answered, wrapping his arm around my waist and sliding me forward on his chest, pressing his lips to my stomach until he laved the skin there. “I shall show you every day how enthralled I am with you. Never will I grow bored,” he promised, the movements of his lips caressing and tickling the sensitive skin of my navel.
Sex and sleep had invigorated me, but my body was still pleasantly—and somewhat unpleasantly—sore from our night and the long battle before.
I groaned slightly as I stretched my back, the vertebra popping audibly into different positions. Legolas immediately froze, his face awash with concern.
“You wouldn’t happen to have any Tylenol or aspirin would you?” I ruefully asked.
“Nay, for I know not what they are,” he answered, his eyes roaming over my body, but the previous lustful glean had vanished, replaced with concern. I lamented the loss and feel of his lustful gaze. His hands skimmed over the scabs on my chest, but lingered on the bruises on my chest and side from the previous days.
“Thank god for chainmail,” I joked before he could work himself up. “And that bullet-proof vest you kept all that time.”
He gave a heavy sigh, but didn’t comment.
“It’s no big deal. In a couple of weeks, they’ll be gone. Besides,” I gave my best coy smile, “I know of a few ways to stretch out my sore muscles.”
I leaned down to coax him into a better mood, determined to play dirty if I had to.
My hand clenched around his, reminding me that it had been bound in that position all night as it cramped.
“I think we can take this off now,” I told Legolas as I started to untie the gold cord around our hands.
But I froze at the sound of the heavy wood door creaking open. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Nethiel standing frozen just inside the door, a look of unadulterated shock and scandal on her young face. And then she turned and fled from the room, the door closing with a thud behind her.
“Perhaps I should have locked the door,” Legolas commented, just as I was saying,
“Shit! Now Nethiel really is going to think I’m a hooker!” I exclaimed, remembering Nethiel’s mutterings the other day that I wore as little clothing as a streetwalker did.
I hopped up, dragging Legolas with me by our joined hands as I ran to the door, shoving Legolas behind it even as I opened the door and peeked my head out into the hallway.
“Nethiel!” I called, barely raising my voice so not to attract too much attention as I tried to stop her from hurrying down the hallway.
The girl stopped and turned around reluctantly. “Yes, my lady?” she queried, her eyes glued to the floor and her cheeks bursting with color.
I smiled a bit at her careful and hesitant manner. “I’m not mad at you, Nethiel,” I told the girl. “But I was wondering if you could possibly bring some breakfast for me and my husband?”
Her head jerked up. “Husband?” she repeated. I nodded and could see the relieved smile spread across her lips. She really did think I was some kind of prostitute! “Of course. I shall fetch a morning repast at once,” she declared, and turned to hurry off once more, at least no longer runningaway from some scandalous scene.
Pulling my head back in the room, I saw Legolas leaning with his back against the door, a thoughtful look in his eyes.
“What is a ‘hooker?'” he asked.
I was torn between laughing and being horrified at hearing the word cross his lips.
But I settled on laughter.
“It’s a word from my world, slang I guess we’d call it. Umm … a colloquial term? It’s another word for a prostitute.” Seeing the same look of confusion, I tried again. “It’s a woman—although I guess it can be a man as well—but traditionally, it’s a woman who sells the pleasures of her body to men for coin.”
Legolas’s mouth dropped open as he sputtered, but no words came out.
“Relax. Nethiel had no idea you’d be in here. It just surprised her is all.”
“Perhaps we would do well to lock the door in the future,” Legolas said, sounding slightly perturbed. Whether by being caught in a nearly compromising position or at what I’d said Nethiel had assumed, I couldn’t determine.
“Can’t. Remember? This door only locks from the outside. But I’ve got the skeleton key—I just hope it’s the only one—but I suppose we could shove something against the door,” I mused, leading Legolas back to the bed.
As we sat down, I began untying the cord once more. Legolas’s countenance eventually lifted, finally smiling as he helped untie the knots he’d hastily placed the night before.
He glanced at the hearth in the room. “You explained that the rope or ribbon used for handfasting was to be kept above the hearth of the home for good luck. But we have not a home yet, what shall we do with it?”
I watched him fingering the cord as I considered it. “You keep it for now. And one day, we’ll have a hearth we can place it over.”
He nodded and walked around to the other side of the bed where his own pack and clothes lay. I watched him walk, smiling at how completely at ease he seemed with walking around the room in the nude.
If he keeps walking around like that, I’m liable to drag him back into bed for dessert!
Looking up, he caught my stare and a smile split his face as he stood from his pack, his brow lifting in question. “Perhaps we can have dessert before breakfast is served?”
My smile melted away as I felt my jaw drop. Legolas had turned his attention back to his pack, his face once more turned away. I didn’t say that out loud, I carefully thought.
Legolas instantly froze, his face going slack as he slowly turned to face me.
I jumped to my feet, throwing my previously lax barriers hastily back in place. “How could you?” I demanded. “You can hear my thoughts and never told me!”
“Nay!” he vehemently denied, his face scrunching almost in pain, reminding me of the grimace Galadriel had made when I’d pushed her out of my thoughts. “This has never before happened. I do not know why it has occurred now.”
“You don’t know why? You just suddenly started hearing my thoughts?” I asked, my voice unable to hide my dubious feelings.
“Nay,” he repeated. He stared down at the bed between us for a moment, and then slowly raised his head and turned towards me. “Unless our binding has somehow caused this change to occur.”
“Oh shit!” I breathed, my eyes squeezing shut. “I’m so sorry, I never thought in a million years this would actually happen. That it could happen.”
“I admit, I had not thought it could occur either,” Legolas said, his voice vacillating between apologetic and excitement. “Yet I find myself pleasantly surprised. Never have I heard of a True Binding occurring outside of Elven couples.”
“What—wait—what?” I stuttered, stumbling over my tongue in confusion.
“Our binding. I had thought it could only be symbolic; it had never occurred to me that we would be able to achieve a True Binding. Ilúvatar himself must bless our union,” he said, his voice speeding up and his excited grin spreading
But I was still confused. “What do you mean, ‘True Binding?’ What is that?”
His smile slipped a little. “When Elven couples join and perform the words of binding, their souls are entwined and blessed by Eru. For each couple the binding is different. Some gain special abilities they share with their bondmate, but all can sense the wellbeing of their bondmate within their very soul. It had not yet occurred to me, that the happiness and joy I was feeling were not merely my own. I realize now that I can distinguish your feelings separately from my own. I have heard of bondmates who can speak mind to mind and send one another their thoughts before, though I believe it is a rare gift.”
I sat sideways on the edge of the bed, trying to piece all the new pieces together.
“What did you mean that you were ‘sorry?'” he asked. “You said you did not think this could happen, yet you seem to not have known about Elven bindings. What were you speaking of?”
Glancing up, I stared at Legolas’s face. He must have seen something of the lost feelings I had and the shock that had set in. He came around the bed and sat beside me, taking my hands gently between his.
“Tell me,” he urged.
“I thought—I always thought they were just old stories, I never thought it was true, because fairies just don’t love. Not that I’ve ever seen or known anyway. They do everything in their power not to.”
“I do not understand,” Legolas answered when I’d stopped.
“Fairies have a similar—binding, I guess, for lack of a better word—that binds two fairies’ lives together. It was said to have only been done, and only worked when there was great love between the two. And that the stronger the love, the more tightly they were bound, until the death of one meant the death of the other. Over time, fairies stopped allowing themselves to love even other fairies, because they feared having that kind of love and binding themselves in such a way that could result in their deaths. You see—for all that the ancient stories said that fairies were capable of great feats of love—they are usually quite selfish and love themselves more. I guess over time, they just quit allowing themselves to fall prey to love at all, and taught their children the same. I’ve never heard any current stories of Fae that are bound together, so I thought they were just stories.” I shook my head. “Silva is said to have a bit of magic in the language itself, I wonder if that’s what did it?”
We sat silently as we both digested things.
“Then it appears our bloodlines’ similar customs have allowed us to bind as well,” Legolas decided.
“I guess,” I agreed. “But what if—what if this is more like a Fae binding than an Elven one? What if I’ve tied your life to mine? I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Legolas touched my cheek softly with his fingertips. “What happens shall be as it was meant to be. But how can we say what kind of binding this is?” he shrugged.
“I didn’t think any of those thoughts at you,” I told him, trepidation setting in. “I was just thinking those things in my head. You heard mythoughts. I didn’t speak to your mind like you said was possible in some Elven bindings.” Seeing his puzzled look, I continued, “Fae bindings were said to have a few advantages to go along with what they saw as disadvantages. For one, some of the special powers, or magic that one had, were often shared with their mate. My telepathy isn’t magic; you read my thoughts.”
He touched his hand to his chest over his heart. “Yet I can feel you here. Is that an aspect of Fae binding?”
“I just don’t know, Legolas. Not that I recall from the stories, but it could be, I guess,” I answered with a shrug.
He laughed lightly. “It does not matter. Whether our binding is Elven or Fae in nature, or some combination, I care not. We must trust that Eru has properly guided or binding as it was meant to be. It is a blessing to be granted a True Binding, and we have much time to figure out the details of our bond.”
Pulling me forward, he sealed his lips over mine, not giving up, or being satisfied with a passive response, but demanding until I’d started responding and getting lost in the sensations. Eager for more.
With more force than I cared to admit, I turned my head away. “Enough of that,” I laughingly scolded. “Nethiel will be back before we know it. And I don’t think she deserves that kind of shock twice in one morning—the poor girl.” I still didn’t know what to think of this morning’s revelation, but maybe Legolas was right. Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be. One thing was for sure, there was no going back now. These kinds of bindings were said to be completely unbreakable.
Legolas only chuckled and retrieved his leggings, bending to finally pull them on. “I fear you are correct, Elaina,” he said with a touch of wistful sadness to his voice. “We should find Aragorn and the others as well.”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “Time marches on. War stops for no one.”
Legolas walked back around the foot of the bed as I was pulling my own pants on, his shirt already smoothed over his chest. He softly cupped my cheek and chastely kissed my lips. “We shall find time to sate our desires when these dark days have lifted. As well as discover the intricacies of our bond.” The mischievous grin returned as he kissed me more lingeringly, stealing my breath once more. “And until then,” he continued, “we shall steal what moments we can as we did last night.”
I stepped back. “Careful,” I warned, my breathing shallower than a kiss should have dictated. “You keep doing that and I’ll steal a moment now. Virgin servant girl, be damned.”
His only reply was to steal another kiss before darting back from the hands that would have demanded more and chuckling as he walked around the foot of the bed to finish dressing.
“Naughty, teasing elf,” I muttered as I dug through my pack and sullenly pulled the rest of my clothes on. The initial shock of our binding—Fae or Elven—was wearing off. I found that it didn’t frighten me as much as it had at first. But maybe that was the effect of the soothing feelings I was certain were coming from Legolas.
I found that just as Legolas could, I could reach within myself, and find Legolas there, right in the center of myself it seemed. It was different from hearing his thoughts or sensing his feelings in my mind. In my mind, I had to interpret the emotion. But where he dwelled in my heart, no interpretation was needed. It was as though his being had become an extension of my own, and I intuitively understood what his emotions were.
Legolas only laughed louder at my mutterings.
But at least my shields seemed to be keeping him out of my thoughts. That was still a bit much to handle.
And a part of me felt complete at our teasing and lighthearted banter. As well as having him dwelling within my heart. I finally felt—whole. As cheesy and clichéd as it sounded.
Mmmmm, this, is a marriage. I never really knew what it was or what it truly meant before, I thought to myself. And I was glad to have known it now, even if only for this moment in time.
After we had eaten the meal Nethiel brought, we donned our weapons again. This time I did pull on my cloak, but couldn’t decide on whether or not to drag my pack with. I set it on the bed and quickly dug through it, looking to see if there was anything I might need.
“What’s this?” I muttered to myself as my hands grazed something hard in the bottom corner of my pack.
“What have you found?” Legolas asked, coming to stand beside me.
Pulling my hand out, I displayed my find in my open palm.
“I’d forgotten about this,” I said, looking up to see Legolas’s gaze locked on the wooden figure of a girl. He’d given the figurine back to me all that time ago in Lórien.
“Why did you keep this all that time?” I finally asked him.
He tore his gaze away and met my eyes, such depth of emotion shinning there, it nearly stole my breath. “I cannot say why I first kept it. You intrigued me from the start, even when you loathed the very sight of me. I wanted to know more about you and how you came to be so unlike any mortal or elf I have ever known and what about me frightened you. Yet you did not want me near you. I thought perhaps if I studied the figurine you had carved, I might be able to understand you.”
He reached out and ran a finger over the curls on the wooden girl’s head. “After you thawed to my presence, I still kept it, knowing that you were beginning to mean much to me, though I understood not how for a long time. I held it for many hours as I contemplated you and just what you meant to me.”
I held the figurine up higher. “Then why did you give it back to me that night?”
His smile quirked upwards a bit, yet it was more sad than even wistful. “You were so happy in Lothlórien; so many smiles lit your face in those days. I hoped this smiling figure would always be something to bring another smile to your face, though I feared I might never smile again myself.”
I reached forward with my other hand, placing it on his upper arm as I held onto him. “Then why didn’t you give me a reason to go with you? Why did you say nothing and let me walk away that night?” I demanded, my voice sounding low and almost desperate.
His smile turned sadder if possible. “I wanted you to find happiness. I wanted that most of all. You were happy in Lothlórien. You were happy with the marchwarden, and I had nothing to offer you.”
I shoved lightly at his shoulder. “I was happy with you, ya jerk. I wanted to be happy with Haldir, but I never would have been. But I needed you to give me something. Tell me something. And you really need to stop trying to think for me. I know what I want. All you ever need to offer me isyou.”
His face softened somewhat, his smile losing just a bit of its sadness. “I know not what home I can ever offer you—what life I can offer. Perhaps you made a poor bargain in not staying with the marchwarden. In not remaining in happiness in Lothlórien.”
My hand slid down his arm to grasp his fingers, turning them until his palm faced up and I could press the figurine back into his hand. “Keep that. As a reminder that I’m happy with you, ya stubborn elf. I don’t want or need anyone else. And we’ll find a home together. Eventually.”
He held the figurine in both hands, looking unsure.
So I closed his fingers over it, saying, “Keep it. I want you to have it. My wedding present to you. To remember how happy you’ve made me.”
He finally smiled and slipped the wooden figure into a leather pouch on his belt. “I have nothing to gift to you,” he lamented.
“You’ve given me more than I ever thought possible: happiness. And besides, you already gave me this beautiful ring.” I told him, looking down at the sparkling red stone. “It’s customary in my world for the bride to give her groom a ring to wear as well, marking their union. And I don’t have one for you. But I will. This I promise. I’ll find one for you.”
His expression had finally lifted as he laughed. “This custom sounds appealing, but as you say, I can wait. One day I shall find you a home, just as I am certain you will find me a ring.”
I moved closer and gripped the crisscrossing straps of his quiver and pack, pulling on them as I stood up on my toes and quickly kissed him. “All I have to do is get you a ring and you’ll find me a house? Sounds like a one-sided deal to me, but okay, I know better than to argue with a bargain like that.”
He grinned in return as he held me in place with an arm wrapped around my waist. “Ahh, but as my lady wife, I shall need much input from you as to what you wish for in a house and home.”
With a grin, I said, “Easy. Nothing in a big city. A beautiful view. And you. That’s all I require.”
I dropped back down onto my heels and turned towards the door, his hand still in mine. “Come on, let’s go find the others and get this over with.”
“What are we getting ‘over with?'”
“Telling them we’re married now. I can’t wait to see the surprise on their faces,” I chuckled as we stepped into the hallway.
I hummed a bit as we walked, imagining in my mind what the guys would say. Hell, even imagining what my old partner Mike would say if he could see me now. Married. And actually happy for once. Truly happy, not just plodding along through my life.
“What are you humming?”
Rather than tell him, I decided to sing the first half of the song.♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫ Que Sera, Sera (Opens in new window) ♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪
“When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, what will I be
Will I be pretty, will I be rich
Here’s what she said to me.
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.
When I was young, I fell in love
I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead
Will we have rainbows, day after day
Here’s what my sweetheart said.
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.“*
A/N: I know it’s another chapter with just Lane and Legolas, and not much action, but everyone else will be back in the next one and we’ll return to some action.
Also, for those of you who read the extended version of Chapter 7, what did you all think? I didn’t get much feedback on it, so let me know. Good, bad, ugly, whatever. I know it’s impossible to please everyone with a style on these things, but I haven’t written a scene like that for this fandom, so tell me if it was too detailed, not enough, or sounded off, whatever your thoughts were. I am trying to learn here!
But, anyway, let me know what you thought! I love hearing from you guys!
*Que Sera Sera does not belong to me and is Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., JAY LIVINGSTON MUSIC, INC.
Songwriters: LIVINGSTON, JAY / EVANS, RAY