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Faeirex, Legolas and Aralias
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Date Posted: 20:19:55 06/29/02 Sat
“Legolas.”
He turned around at the sound of her voice, face almost automatically brightening into a welcoming smile, before he remembered she was not alone. At the sight of the visitor standing beside her, one hand cupped proprietarily under her elbow, a cloud passed across his features before he was even aware of it and could force the mask back into place.
“Legolas,” she repeated, looking a little puzzled, “this is Aralias.”
“I’m delighted to meet you.” he told the elf formally. Gods, he sounded so stiff. No wonder Lómódë preferred this handsome stranger.
"I am of course delighted to meet you too." He released Faeirex's arm and offerered the young elf his hand. "I wish I could tell you I had heard great things about you but she, as usual, has told me nothing. However I recognise your name. You are the prince of Mirkwood are you not?"
"You have heard correctly." he answered shortly, shaking the proffered hand, then stood racking his brains for an intelligent comment to add. Of course, he could think of nothing. It flashed across his mind how unfavorably he would compare with Aralias, and the thought only served to increase his muteness.
Aralias gently prised Legolas's hand from his own and watched the elf stood dumbly accross from him. The boy was obviously enamoured with Fae; it was all rather sad really. "I hear the woods are quite beautiful at this time of year."
"Mirkwood is always beautiful, whatever the time of year. I don't have to have been home recently to know what they will look like. Have you ever been there?"
"Once a very long time ago. It was, as you say, exquisite. I spent a restful year residing in those forests and at the end I could barely bring myself to leave. Part of my heart resides still in Oropher's kingdom." His face assumed a wistful expression. You are fortunate to have such a home." He put his arm around Faeirex's shoulders. "So how do you know the infamous Lómódë?"
"She tripped me up in the forests out there and held my own knife to my throat." he admitted ruefully, with a light laugh.
"That's my girl." He leaned over and kissed her cheek with relish; knowing that it would irritate both of them.
Legolas watched him stonily. Was there a reason for all this? Had he done something that made her punish him in this way? He cleared his throat, the false smile back in place. "So, have you two known each other long then?" he asked politely.
"Forever," he replied with an smile that was completely genuine and therefore a rarity. He stroked Fae's ebony hair. "Since the beginning of time it seems and I have cherished every moment of it." The prince of Mirkwood looked like he was about to explode and Aralias's mouth twitched gleefully.
Growing more and more irritated, Faeirex pushed him away. It was about time he ceased his torments. "Alright Aralias, you've had your fun. Enough is enough. If I have to stand here and listen to your nonsense any longer, I may have to kill someone."
"I hope you're not looking at me, sister dear." He fixed his gaze on Legolas and watched the conflict flash over the serene mask.
"It would be one way of solving my problems" Faeirex retorted. She span back and smiled warmly. "Yes, I'm afraid he's my brother," she admitted. "I apologise for him."
Her brother! Not a lover after all. Relief flooded him as comprehension dawned. Of course, now that he knew, he didn’t see how he could have failed to notice it before. Seen side by side, their features bore a strong resemblance- not identical, but similar. Almost as if a sculptor had begun by creating two duplicates of the perfect face, then had carefully honed and altered each individual feature, adding the little touches that made one feminine, the other masculine. His face was, in it’s own way, no less flawless than hers, although bending more in the direction of handsomeness than of beauty.
He was taller than her by perhaps two inches, body lean and well proportioned. His jawline was squarer and her lips were fuller, but the colour of the hair and the eyes were identical, the same rich shades.
The shape of his eyes and set of the face gave him the look of a hunter, and one who would track tirelessly and ruthlessly to the very end. Despite his urbane words and civilised tone, Legolas felt oddly threatened just by his presence. There was a restless energy about him that no veneer could hide.
He smiled his first genuine smile of the afternoon. "I suppose it was rather remiss of me not to have guessed."
"Rather? I'd say the years of soft palace living have dulled your wits Legolas." He grinned wolfishly. "Perhaps I should introduce myself again. Quel andune. My name's Aralias and I have the misfortune to be the brother of the charming Lady Lómódë. Please forgive me for taking amusement at your expense."
"I suppose I deserved it. What brings you to Minas Tirith?"
"A family matter. Speaking of which, Lómódë shouldn't you be attending to that now?"
She read the meaning implicit in his voice and scowled. Packing was not a pleasant occupation, especially when she didn't actually want to leave. "That sounds like my cue to go. Legolas, I'll speak to you later." She leant towards her brother and muttered, "Play nice. Try to behave yourself for once."
"Little sister I always play nice. To begin with anyway. And don't scowl like that. You don't want to develop wrinkles. Soon you'll start looking your age."
"Which is still younger than you, if I remember correctly. Perhaps you should follow your own advice."
"I always do. That's why I'm wrinkle free. Now scurry off. I want you to be done by this evening." He nodded curtly at Legolas before turning back to Faeirex. "If you need me I'll be in the library."
Seething at his casual dismisal of her, she bid the faintly amused-looking Legolas goodbye and swept off, mustering as much dignity as she could. No matter how their conversations set out, she and Aralias always seemed to end by sniping at each other. His insistence on treating her at all times like a child only worsened their bickering. There was only so much of his superior attitude that she could take.
He watched her leave, turning over in his mind the implications of the meeting. It had revealed things about him that he was not entirely ready to admit even to himself. Even worse, Aralias appeared to have seen what hid in his mind, and had taunted him over it. For all was becoming clear now. The amount of relief that he had felt over discovering that they were related had gone beyond simple jealousy. Whatever he might tell himself, Legolas knew in his heart that he was totally, inextricably, in love with Lómódë. For better or for worse, she had captured him. And it didn't look like she would be unchaining him any time soon.
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