Riding With the Elves // Legolas x OC

16. Drinking with Elves (again)

With some surprise she realized it was Thranduil. "Your father has a lovely singing voice. Do you sing as well?"

"Sometimes." He dried his hands on a linen towel and came to sit next to her.

"I'd love to hear it."

"Maybe another time."

"I take that as a promise. Now, let's have a look at that bite."

The wound really did look better today. It wasn't swollen anymore and a scab had begun to form. Legolas didn't even flinch when she dabbed it with a spirit soaked cloth.

"I'm glad it's healing so well."

"Thanks to you." In the twilight his eyes were dark and his intense gaze made her stomach flutter.

Wynne broke eye contact first.

"How about your thigh?" he asked. "Let me check those stitches."

Her cheeks warmed at the mention of thighs. "Sure." Still blushing she removed the strings that held her hose up, rolling one down a bit. It healed well and she had not needed a bandage the past two days.

Legolas examined it thoroughly, perhaps more so than was strictly necessary. She could see a vein on his neck throbbing faster, just like her own heart did.

"Looking good." He had become slightly breathless.

Then he carefully touched the three tiny knots. Too softly. Wynne squirmed and giggled.

That broke the intense atmosphere. "You are ticklish," he noted, seemingly storing the information for future use.

Of course she then had to try to tickle him back but got no reaction at all. His face could have been sculpted in marble.

"You are no fun." She tried some more anyway, just to have a reason to touch him.

"You are wasting your time. Elves are beyond such worldly things as ticklishness."

His teasing smile made Wynne certain he did feel it; he just had strong self-control. She decided to try to catch him by surprise another time.

"How is it going down there?" called Thranduil from the campfire.

Legolas looked guilty. "Soon finished!"

They hastily returned, taking their places around the fire.

Thranduil regarded them thoughtfully, one eyebrow raised, but didn't say anything.

"So, a free day tomorrow then," said Wynne. "That means we can sleep in. Any fire water left?"

The elf brothers began a new song, this one so well known even Wynne could join in. Her soprano was not all bad, she reckoned, and she liked to sing.

To her delight Legolas also took part. He was a bass, which was what one might expect from his speaking voice, and a good one too. She really must hold him to his promise and have him sing to her privately sometime.

When night fell, Wynne was more than a little drunk and unsteadily went to her tent. The drink had made her drowsy and she could hardly keep her eyes up when she undressed.

But as she lay tucked in her bedroll she found that she still couldn't fall asleep. For no apparent reason her heart beat faster and faster, and an uncomfortable chill rushed along her spine, forcing her wide awake. Orc faces paraded before her vision; those she were kidnapped by and the one with an arrow in its cheek. It was like a bad dream, but one she couldn't wake up from.

Sitting up, she tried to rub away the images, almost banging her head with her fists, but nothing helped.

She wanted to scream in frustration. How long would this hopeless insomnia last? This awful, irrational panic. She hated it.