A new life

Frances awoke to the sound of harsh voices conversing in an unknown language. Her head was pounding painfully, and she squeezed her eyes tight against the bright sun. The slightest of movements made her body ache. Releasing a shaky breath, Frances winced as she turned to the side. Had it been a dream? The sweetest of all, but a dream nonetheless? Eventually, she managed to open her eyes and adjust to the light.

Crumbled sheets greeted her sight, but the elf was nowhere to be seen. The wooden planks though, indicated that she was indeed in Legolas' cabin. But where could he be? And what was this agitation outside? Harsh voices shouted at one another; a few elvish words intertwined by hushed tones. Moaning in pain, Frances realised that her skin glistened with sweat. Damn, she was ill, and confused!

The young woman stumbled to a nearby chair, panic rising in her chest at Legolas's absence. Her nightgown was nowhere to be found, leaving her naked and very exposed. The ship had stopped its graceful swinging. Had they been attacked by pirates? Not that she would be of any help in her state of undress. Nor could she sustain a battle; she was so weary the simple fact of standing used all of her energy.

That's what you get for swimming two miles in the icy Ocean, you damn girl.

But it was worth it … so very worth it! Somewhere in a trunk, she found one of Legolas' tunics. His scent immediately surrounded her, and her heart settled. No, his presence was everywhere; it was no dream. The completude she felt, the pure bliss of his bright Feä insider hers taught her everything she needed to know. They physical union had completed the bond.

Speaking of which, she reached for the link and was greeted by radiating happiness, as if Legolas' Feä welcomed her into his embrace. Frances sighed. Never before had she felt so complete, so blissful. It was another world experience, and she granted a thought to her counterpart – the original Frances who would never know such happiness. Being loved by an elf could have no equivalent.

A rasping noise came from the door, and Legolas' blond head popped up behind the wooden planks. He was tall; his head nearly brushed the ceiling while Frances had to lift her arms to touch it. Feeling a little self-conscious, from her state of dress, Frances smiled shyly. His radiant smile answered hers, feeding her heart with so much light that her chest heaved.

"I am glad you are awake, Meleth, I was getting worried you might be getting sick."

"Well. As a matter of fact, I am…"

He was at her side faster than it took her to blink, taking her hands into his warm ones. The contact caused a shiver to run up her spine; she was not used to being touched so often yet. Not that she minded! His touch was so intense, so sweet that she wanted nothing more than to melt into him. Albeit her body felt exhausted, she wanted him so badly! That elf would be her undoing.

Oblivious of her line of thoughts, Legolas' lips graced her forehead to test her temperature; he frowned. His worry permeated through their bond, swirling like waves of unrestrained anguish. Her eyes wide, Frances breathed deeply to prevent his despair from drowning her. How he feared for her life! So much that it was nearly crippling. How he could sustain such strong emotions without crumbling down was a mystery she had yet to solve.

Legolas was strong, stronger than she initially thought if he had survived three years in such a state of agony! Still, she could not let him sink into this pattern; he could not spend his whole life worrying about her well-being. She was no weakling.

Smiling, she caressed his cheek, her fingers dancing slightly over his radiant skin, her hazel gaze conveying reassurance.

"Do not worry my love, it will get better in a few days. It was quite a strain for my body."

Legolas' strong arms circled her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she rested her heart against his chest. It was the best place in the universe, in all universes and alternate realities! To be hugged by him, to stay close was her own little piece in heaven. She never wanted to let go. Relishing in her own happiness, she willed her solace to permeate her Feä until they both basked in their shared inner light.

"I will have Estel heal you, all will be well."

Tightening her hold on him, Frances spoke in a soothing voice.

"Do not worry so. I have not been through this to let go now. And I've seen much worse in the past. It is but a little fever, nothing to fret about."

She lifted her head then, and smoothed the crease that had formed between his eyebrows in a tender gesture.

"You are mine, Legolas, and I fully intend to spend many a year by your side."

The elvish prince nodded, his expression uneasy. Yet, the bond told her he was not ready to relent. Frances sighed, and gestured for him to sit beside her. Gathering one of his hands in her own, the young woman kissed every knuckle gently, her other hand caressing his wrist. Her touch elicited a sigh from her lover; his tension slowly eased away.

"Your brightness warms me to the core, Legolas. Our joining, yesterday, it was the most beautiful thing that ever happened in my life…"

His face brightened; eyes lost in the memory as his cheeks flushed. There were no words to convey his own bliss, but none were needed. Frances leaned over, and stole a kiss from his soft lips.

"I love you, you are my light, the reason I open my eyes every morning, the companion of my life. And I will not let you down, ever again."

"You have not…"

His protests were cut short.

"Yes, I have. But let us not discuss it now. What I wanted to tell you is that even in my human world, I am resistant. I almost never get sick, and when I do, I brush it off in a few days. My fever can run high, it means my body is raging its own little war with efficiency. But I always recover. And the more elves will be around me, the less sick I am prone to be."

This time, Legolas gaze was confused, and Frances marvelled at the openness of his expressions. During the war, she had always found him pretty impassive, a level-headed façade he had perfectly over the years to hide his true emotions. With her, now, all barriers had been cast away.

"Whatever can you mean, meleth?"

"It is a long story of contagion, bacteria, viruses and such. I'll explain in detail later on, right? My world has an extensive knowledge of human diseases, and fortunately, I have been studying it for a while after I got back. I'm sure Estel will be quite happy with the knowledge I acquired recently. For the moment though, I need you to promise that you will stop worrying."

Legolas abruptly stood, his haunted look breaking her heart.

"Meleth, I cannot promise such a thing… I have not forgotten how you bled to death in my arms. There was so much … so much of your blood."

"Legolas…"

"I remember well Helm's deep just as well, you nearly died of an infection then! I was so worried that I would have to bury you when I came back. Now I know what life feels without you, and I do not want to shorten it by the smallest of moments."

A frown marred Frances' face. Truth be told, her elvish mate had a point. A very good point. And her death was a memory they would have to exorcise to prevent it from festering.

"Right," she conceded. "Let us consider I will NOT fling myself unto an orc's blade as of today. I feel your worry, here."

Frances pointed to her chest, Legolas' blue gaze following her movement.

"Deep down, I know how terrified you are. You cannot live with this weight; we cannot be happy together if your mind always circles around my mortality. Do you see what I mean?"

Legolas nodded, and Frances stood, unsteady. Immediately, the elf crushed her against his chest, supporting her weight so she could rest the petrified muscles of her legs. Raising her face to him, Frances allowed herself to get lost in the contemplation of his flawless features.

"And for the record, you saved my life that day, by sending me away. A few moments later, and it would have been too late. I never got to thank you for this."

"Do not thank me for saving your life. You are my wife, your life is mine as much as my life is yours."

Frances' heart leapt into her chest, warmth spreading like a benevolent river through her bloodstream. A huge smile graced her lips.

"Wife, I love the sound of that."

"So do I"

His lips found hers again, and very soon, the gentle kiss lost its softness to border on a passionate. How he wanted to make her his, again! Just as he lowered his wife on the bed, Gimli's grumbling voice echoed from above.

"So where's the lass! I need to give her a piece of my mind!"

Frances' head fell on the mattress, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

"Let us head out, and we can get back to this later on."

One last kiss to the tip of her nose, and the elf gathered her in his arms.

"Yes. I very much fear that the dwarf will march down if we tarry."

The newlyweds climbed the stairs and emerged on deck, finding a flurry of activity surrounding the ship.

"Aye! There she is!"

A barrel-chested Gimli suddenly engulfed Frances in a bear hug, laughing and yelling at the same time about her recklessness. Behind him, Aragorn waited, poised like the King he was, waiting for his turn to greet his friend once more. Eventually, Legolas detached the dwarf from his beloved, ordering him to put her down.

"Be gentle Gimli, her body has sustained a great ordeal, and fever has claimed her from the cold."

As soon as his words were uttered, Aragorn grabbed Frances' hand and started a thorough examination.

"What the heck are you wearing lass?" asked Gimli, his eyes roaming over Frances' form.

Legolas smirked as she blushed. The seriousness of their discussion had not given him enough time to contemplate her form engulfed in his tunic. He had to admit that it only enhanced her attractiveness.

"Is that a princeling tunic? Well, of all the ridiculous garments I've seen you with, this is the least appropriate. But fear not, we have your bag here, that seems to contain more funny clothing."

And then, the dwarf's boisterous laugh exploded, making her ears ring as she wondered what her other self might have packed in her bag.

"Hush Gimli," came Aragorn's stern voice. "Better this than a soaked nightgown. Speaking of which, what were you thinking? You scared me half to death!"

Frances stared back at the King, tucked into Legolas' side for support and very unimpressed by her friend's glare.

"You know very well was I was thinking, as much as you know that I was right. Wouldn't you have tried, had our situations been reversed and Arwen been on this ship?"

Aragorn's grey eyes softened, and he pulled at Frances to hug her fiercely, surprising her with the strength of his embrace. Then, he kept her at arm's length, his hands secured on her shoulders, his gaze locked to her.

"The truth is, I would not, for I would have died."

A giggle escaped Frances, and Aragorn released her for Legolas to embrace, his smile widening.

"It never occurred to me that someone could survive such a fall in those treacherous waters."

"Aragorn survived worse…", she started, only to be interrupted by an appalled cry: "The fall? What fall?"

Gimli's eyes twinkled in mirth.

"I see you have not been graced with the whole tale, my dear pointy ears."

"We did not have much time to talk, to be honest…"

Shit, that came out wrong!

The dwarf gave Frances a pointed look, grasping her meaning too accurately for her taste. Fortunately, Gimli had his heart already set on sharing the story in detail, rather than dig into her intimacy. For this at least she was grateful, for her cheeks were suddenly heating up with embarrassment.

Many people through the dwarf dumb because of his boisterous characters and poor manners, but the fellowship knew better. Gimli was subtle when he set his mind to the task, and nothing short of respectful for those he deemed worthy.

"She jumped from the cliff", he deadpanned, pointing at the spot where she had dived into the waves. Legolas nearly jumped out of fright.

"What! Frances, you did not!"

"She so did!"

The rest was left unsaid, for Aragorn had been adamant that she had committed suicide. Legolas turned to his beloved, his arms safely secured around her waist.

"Why would you do that, meleth, crossing an ocean was not enough of a risk for you?"

"I didn't choose when or where I appeared, and it was the fastest way. If I had run all the way down the hill, I would have missed you … and you certainly know the consequences of that. And it gave me a head start on the waves, starting from the cliff. The current is stronger on the beach."

"You could have been crushed on the rocks. The men of Harad told me of the treacherous currents when the tide goes out."

Aragorn stepped in, relating how Frances had avoided being caught in the waves and made for the high sea. In this world where people scarcely knew how to swim, they viewed it as a great feat!

"Well, I learnt when I was young. Swimming is like biking, you can never forget."

Aragorn's eyebrow lifted in interrogation. It was funny to rediscover the pattern Frances used when they first met, before she adapted to middle earth speech. It was all innuendos, short sentences and mentioning devices that they knew nothing about.

"Those shores are beautiful, I would love spending a little time here."

"You would, wouldn't you?" came Legolas' playful retort.

The elf's gaze drifted to the shores, hearing the seagulls call, and the song of the waves crashing on the cliffs. He remembered the crazy ride from the stone of Erech, and how Frances had told him not to fear the sea. The elf turned to Aragorn, a question clearly written on his face. The King nodded, a gleam of happiness in his eyes.

"Aye no! No more jumping from cliffs! You stopped my heart for a moment" came Gimli's plea.

Frances turned to the dwarf, his concern warming her heart.

"Do not worry, I do not make it a habit…" she answered, memories of an afternoon with her brother on the cliffs of Cassis clearly engraved in her mind. "… not very often anyway. It was just the fastest way. And had you known what I planned, you would have stopped me, right?"

"Certainly!"

The elf's deep gaze softened, impressed by the gal of her wife. Cupping her face, he deposited a soft kiss to her lips.

"You never cease to amaze me, meleth nín."

"Eeew. I have not travelled so far south to be the witness of this."

Legolas turned to Gimli, his eyes twinkling, his glow so bright that the sun itself seemed to pale beside him.

"You will find that all newlywed couples can be unsettling. By all means Gimli, you should return to Minas Tirith. We shall certainly join you in the summer. What say you, King Elessar?"

"Newlyweds? When did that happen?"

A shove startled Gimli, and he turned to Aragorn whose smile was directed to their friends.

"Go to Dol Amroth. Prince Imhrahil will certainly be delighted to see you both. Take some time to heal your wounds, and return to us for the summer feast."

Legolas clasped Aragorn's forearm in a brotherly embrace.

"Thank you, mellon nín. I am proud to say that I will fulfil my oath."

"My joy could not be greater, Legolas. I am happy for both or you."

At this, Legolas' expression saddened, and he struggled to let go of Aragorn's hand. There was much regret in his voice as he said:

"I am sorry that I could not partake in yours, mellon. I will be forever in your debt."

The King dismissed his doubts, washing the subject away.

"You know I will never hold it against you. Go, be free, make your heart whole again and heal your Feä. Then, we will bring Ithilien back to its former glory. What say you?"

"Aye, Aragorn. Hannon le"

Quick farewells were exchanged, and both Gimli and Aragorn left to return to Minas Tirith. Frances, still feverish and a bit stunned, observed their retreating backs from the deck. Locked into Legolas' embrace – she refused to let him out of his sight – she wondered what had happened.

"What does it mean, my love?"

Legolas turned the young lady around, and kissed her lips softly.

"It means that you and I have will spend this month getting reacquainted, on the seaside. I am adamant to learn how to jump from a cliff and battle against the waves!"

Frances' feature lightened in glee, her mouth wide with disbelief.

"Are you serious? We are having a honeymoon?"

A playful grin graced Legolas' lips before he nuzzled Frances' neck. The contact of his mouth on her skin elicited a shiver, and his breath tickled her earlobe as he murmured.

"Very serious, although I have no idea what a honeymoon can be."

"Come inside… I will show you."

His eyes darkening with desire, Legolas swept Frances from her feet, and strode inside the ship for a well-earned bonding time.