With a secret mission to marry an elf, Wynne must join Legolas' and Elvenking Thranduil's new quest as a horsekeeper. She begins an adventurous journey, encountering orcs and monsters, friendly uruk-hai, a lady dwarf and many Fellowship heroes - but...
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~ The company meets people, sees wine and Legolas gets a letter. ~
44. The Living Marshes
The tent was too damp for comfort. Wynne slept badly and woke up already before sunrise. Pulling on her clothes she crawled out, trying not to wake her tent mates.
The past few days she had shared tents with Sidra and the kids, while Nugu had been invited to share with Thranduil and Legolas much to everybody's surprise. The Elvenking sleeping next to an uruk-hai! But there was a first time for everything, Wynne figured.
The air outside was humid too, with white swirls of mist covering the fields below.
She spotted a silent figure ahead, tall as a young tree, lithe and strong, standing beside the Falls like an Argonath. He regarded the flowing water with a faraway look on his beautiful face.
"Wynne," he acknowledged. As usual he knew who it was without turning around.
"Legolas... is something wrong?"
"This is where we sent him. Down the waterfall."
"Boromir?" Wynne remembered from his tale that the Gondor warrior had died near the Anduin.
"Aye."
"Do you miss him?"
"Aye. Despite what he..." He didn't finish the sentence.
"Want to talk about it?"
He shook his head.
Wynne didn't press him. That kind of conversation was better suited somewhere more private. Here, the others could wake up at any time.
"Are you avoiding me?" she asked instead.
"Maybe. A little." He finally tore his eyes from the waterfall and met her gaze, smiling slightly. "Ada knows. Again. There is no hiding things from him."
Wynne sighed. "What shall we do?"
"We wait a little more... until he meets Aragorn."
"I don't want to wait." She took a step closer and nestled an arm around him.
"I know." He looked down at her upturned face, still with that forlorn expression etched on his features.
She guessed his thoughts remained with his lost friend and the Fellowship. She stroked his cheek, heart aching with sympathy.
His eyebrows drew together. "Do not pity me."
"I'm sad when you are sad." She smoothed his creased forehead with her fingertip.
He gave her a light peck on her lips. "Others are waking up. I hear them." He kissed her cheek, and the other. "You must go. Please."
Wynne nodded and turned away, chest burning, the feeling of his lips lingering like scorch marks on her skin.
