Athëa - Queen of the Savages

Mirroring

Legolas was standing before the silent waterfall, as he had done so many nights before this. The stars were illuminating the black sky and reflecting itself in the water below.

By now he knew this scene like the back of his hand. The splashing of the water as she dove into it, the fall of her wet hair clinging to her naked skin, every beautiful curve of her body, the color of her eyes as she looked upon him...

But this did not make the experience of his dream less mesmerizing, and the anticipation of her kiss reaching his lips less scrutinizing, knowing he would ever be ripped from the dream just moments before it did.

And now he was standing still in the opening of the familiar forrest, watching her emerge from the water, her hair cascading like the waterfall behind her.

Her emerald eyes felt piercing on his soul, as she walked towards him. He held his breath, knowing that she would reach out and touch him, before closing the gap between them. But this time was different.

This time she walked right pass him, and continued into the woods without looking back.

Legolas tried to follow her, but felt his feet planted solidly in the ground making it impossible for him to move even an inch. He tried to call after her, but no words would escape from his lips. And then he woke up.

He opened his eyes, and looked frantically around him, to try and make sense of where he was, until he heard the loud snoring of the red bearded Dwarf beside him.

He scanned the surroundings, and found that the rest of the fellowship was fast asleep. But interpreting the unforeseen difference in the dream as some sort of omen, Legolas knew he would not get any more rest tonight.

He got to his feet and let them carry him effortlessly around the trees of Lóthlorien and not to his surprise they led him to the camp of the Savages.

Athëa had of course chosen to spent her nights with her Men, instead of the fellowship. It was obvious that she had a purpose along side of them, and it would be but a fools hope if Legolas thought she would continue her journey with him in a couple of days. She acted as if she had never been a part of the fellowship.

She had not spent much time with them, let alone him, since their return from the forrest. The last couple of weeks, she had seemingly been trying to avoid direct contact with the fellowship, always busy with the Savages or speaking with Galadriel and Celeborn.

Still his heart searched achingly for her, as if she was far away. And maybe she was. Though she was physically near, Legolas could no longer feel the warmth of her soul and he was shivering in its absence.

His desperate longing for her affection, the affection she showed her men, made his gut fill with jealousy.

He walked silently between the sleeping warriors. Though he now knew them to be of no direct threat, the thought of how quickly he could send them to their graves crossed his mind briefly, but he shook his head, emptying it of his jealousy.

Instead he started searching for the face of his dreams, though she was no where to be found amongst them.

"Creeping around I see. Forgetting that I can catch your scent a mile away, wood Elf!", the harshness of the words did not match the softness of the voice speaking them.

Legolas stopped, and his lips curled upwards, but he did not turn his head to look up from where the voice came.

The elleth jumped of the tree branch from where she was hiding and landed perfectly in front of him, her nose almost grazing his in the dissent.

She looked at him with stern eyes, but the slight twitching of her nose made it apparent that she was trying horribly to hide her amusement of the encounter.