Dol Amroth

Dusk was upon them as Arod climbed the steep road to Dol Amroth's palace. Frances was exhausted and feverish, yet she could not help but gape at its magnificence. And the smell of the sea, the crashing of the waves on the cliff complemented perfectly the feeling of Legolas' body behind hers.

So much time had passed since their last ride together, and the young woman couldn't dwell on it; last time, they had been on the way to the black gate, and her – almost death. Still, the pool of sensations was so insanely perfect that it counteracted the soreness of her muscles. Her body hummed from happiness, and so did her spirit.

Legolas called at the gates, asking for permission to visit the Prince of Dol Amroth. And still, even if three years had passed since the fall of Sauron, the guards were suspicious.

"Who asks?" came a strong voice from above the outer wall.

"Legolas, Prince of Greenwood, and his beloved wife."

A stunned silence greeted this statement, and moments passed where both riders gently swayed in the breeze atop a dancing Arod. The night was descending upon them, and Legolas pulled his cloak around Frances' frame to keep her warm. The young lady hummed her agreement, caressing his hand in thanks. It had been so long since someone had taken care of her in such a loving way. Then the gates opened, and a handsome man literally rushed out, ten guards on his tail. Despite the little time they had spent together, Frances recognised him instantly.

"Pince Imhrahil !", she cried, straightening on the horse.

Legolas' hand shot out as she swayed, but the young woman could only stare at the man's shocked face. For his grey eyes could not have bulged further as he took in her features. Then a large smile graced his features.

"My lady Frances! How… When …? What a relief."

Legolas let on an amused snort. Frances being alive would no doubt raise many questions, and this was only the beginning. Yet, he was pleased to see that his wife had gained Imrahil's affections somehow, even after such a shot acquaintance. Little did he know that she reminded him of his daughter Lothiriel, now wed to King Eomer. Then, Prince Imrahil bowed, and Legolas shook his head. They were of even rank, princes both, and on his territory.

"Please, my lord Imrhahil. Do not bow to us, for we have fought together like brothers. We seek your hospitality, if you will have us, for Frances has caught a fever, and she needs to rest."

Imrahil's brows furrowed, and he approached Arod to help the elf dismount. His guards followed, but said nothing as he glared at them.

"You are very welcome in Dol Amroth, my friends. Do you require a healer to be fetched?"

"You have my thanks, but my lady does not think it necessary," said Legolas.

Frances nodded feebly.

"Rest will do wonders, do not fret on my account. I will be well in no time."

Prince Imrahil nodded, his gaze concerned, but unwilling to disagree with a lady he had thought lost for many years. Then the elf gathered Frances in his arms, and jumped easily down, startling him. Those elves were too lean to possess such strength, but he had not forgotten how, in Minas Tirith, the Prince of Greenwood had relived him of his burden without flinching, even after a full day of battle.

Imrahil led them swiftly, his household bristling about him like fleas, wondering when such a gorgeous elven prince had got married, and how the lady Frances had survived the battle when everyone had thought her dead. But they would be plenty of time for questioning, for the hour was late, and he settled the elf and his beloved wife in a beautiful room and had a fire running. Then he bade them goodnight.

For two days, Frances lingered in bed, too sore to venture outside. Of Imrahil and his household she saw none, for Legolas insisted on taking care of her. He fetched food and water, ordered baths and carried her there, and prevented anyone from bothering her for that matter. The elf was intent on giving her the time needed to recover.

And truth be told, despite the fever, it was a blissful time. Frances slept a lot, most of the time tucked against Legolas' warm body, relishing in the soft hum of his skin in contact with hers. Through their bond came his worries, but most of all his joy at being by her side. As she rested, her body regenerating for the first time in three years, her mind at peace, Legolas wrote letters.

One of them to his father, to inform him that he would not sail after all, his heart filled with joy and hoping that Thrandhuil would share it. One look to his beloved had his heart sing. As hours passed, Frances' features smoothed peacefully. The radiating light of her fiery spirit regaining her body once more. His worry lessened, understanding what she meant when she told him she was a sturdy woman.

Legolas' heart was close to bursting with joy, his light so radiant that even at night his glow lightened the room. Frances had shared a few jokes about it, stating that he was a beacon even when the ambers had definitely run off. Her breathing, at first too quick, was now regaining some semblance of normality. So was her steady heartbeat under his palm. For hours he had kept his hand on her breast, relishing in the life they were offered, in the rhythm of her heart through her chest.

Sometimes he could even feel it through his own chest when she lay on top of him, even if those moments took a toll on his restraints. He had not dared joining with her anew, fearing to tire her out, but his desire to bond with her once more was spiking every time she touched him. Soon, very soon, he promised himself.

Incidentally, Frances was starting to wake. The elf leapt from the desk, landing gracefully beside her. Her eyes opened, their hazel searching for his blue ones. As their gaze locked, Legolas knew that he could not be happier. His hand caressed her face of its own accord, fingers relishing in the softness of her skin and the beauty of her flushed cheeks. She smiled radiantly, conveying the depth of her love to him, and the promise that should they be together, nothing but joy could ever grace them.

Legolas's heart melted, and closed the gap to kiss her beautiful lips. As her body rose to meet his, the elf knew that it was no use resisting her. Their limbs tangled, core heated and skin moist, both lovers lost themselves in each other in a sensual moment of pure bliss. As gentle as he was, Legolas couldn't control the strength of his love and Frances responded in kind, attuned to his body, living the best moment of her life as he surrounded her, possessed her.

She felt complete as he unleashed his passion and relinquished the taut control over his body, privilege to be the one to manage this mighty feat. And in the afterglow, when he kissed her anew, his eyes slightly glazed, she surrounded him in her soft arms, and kept him close as he rested his forehead in the crook of her neck. Her hands caressed his silky hair in a soothing move, her fingers light as feathers.

"I love you Legolas. In this world and the next, I love you with all my might, my body and my soul."

And nothing was truer than this, for even a world apart, her heart refused to let him go. Legolas lifted his head slightly, his soft breath brushing her cheek. The ocean of his gaze captured her, and Frances delved deeper and deeper into his bright soul, losing herself into his light.

"And I, meleth, am forever yours."

Frances nodded solemnly. For she knew what forever meant to an elf.

Earth.

Far away from here, another Frances was meditating, actively searching in the depth of her heart. But try as she might, the faint link was nowhere to be found. The young woman's eyes snapped open; her bond with Legolas was totally and irrevocably gone. Not even the dim light remained. A sad smile crept up on her face, and she whispered, "Be happy together".

Now, she was free.