Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Only One
By : HollyHobbit13
Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Crossovers
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Chapter List
- 28
- 29
- 30
Imladris
72 hours prior
Lounging in the balcony doorway with the Watcher, Methos searched the crowd; Jordan and her Teacher had yet to arrive.
"Y'know, I think I'm actually gonna miss this place." Joe commented.
You're not the only one. The Eldest thought to himself.
"Really—why's that?" Methos drawled.
"Oh, I dunno; it's different. Kinda like living in a fairy tale." The younger man mused.
Every tale has an end . . . Methos cynically thought.
"Will you miss it enough to give up 'Le Blues'? Or television with a baseball game on, an ice-cold beer in one hand and remote in the other?" Methos inquired with a wry smile. Joe remained silent for all of three seconds as he considered the question.
"Hell, no! When you put it that way, there's really no choice! I'm a modern day, 20th century kinda guy - the hell with all this sword and knife stuff – gimme a gun any day." Joe said with a grin.
"I knew you'd see it my way." Methos said, continuing to survey the room.
Methos' eyes were drawn to the fair head in the crowd; in Merlin's book, the chronicle of the Mirkwood Prince detailed the lethal Sindarin assassin's unusually strong, lifelong friendship with the Dwarf, and how it is instrumental in the restoration of good will betwixt those particular Races. Methos studied the Crown Prince. Legolas' graceful movements exuded power and strength, tinged with a confidence and arrogance forged in battle, tempered with experience. Though the accomplishments and abilities of the Golden Elf are well documented in the text, no further details were recorded; Methos wondered why the Crown Prince did not rule his father's woodland realm. In fact, nothing else is written of the noble Elf, other than he built a boat and sailed into the West with the Dwarf. Methos briefly wondered if the Mirkwood Prince ever married and had elflings of his own, after sailing to the Undying Lands.
Feeling eyes upon him, Legolas turned and met Methos' gaze. They stared at each before Methos inclined his head slightly in greeting; in return, the Golden Elf gave a terse nod of his head, before turning with the rest of the Elves towards the doorway expectantly. Taking his cue from them, the Eldest straightened and nodded towards the doorway.
"Look alive, Joe. Time to greet the One that feeds us." Methos said.
"Are we late?" A familiar voice asked. They turned to see Duncan and his Student linked arm-in-arm directly behind them.
"Fashionably so. What took so long?" Methos asked.
"Where'd you come from?" Joe queried simultaneously with a grin.
"This little one was late getting ready, and the balcony steps." The Clansman replied, answering both questions at once.
"Duncan!" Jordan exclaimed indignantly.
"Oh, excuse me – she can't tell time very well; it's a Filipino thing." Duncan corrected, with a perfectly straight face.
"Duncan!" This time Jordan's outburst was accompanied by a swat on the Highlander's arm; the Chieftain's Son made his arm limp, feigning injury.
"I'll wait for you anytime, Jordie." Joe said gallantly as he offered her his arm.
"Why thank you, Joe." The woman said sweetly, before she turned to mock- glare at her Mentor.
"Me, too." Methos added, searching her eyes for any sign of warmth. Both the Watcher and the Highlander raised an eyebrow at that.
"Thank you." Jordan replied politely; her strained smile did not reach her eyes.
"What? I felt left out." Methos said with a woeful look on his face and a shrug of his shoulders.
"C'mon, Jordie, what d'ya say we leave these knuckleheads behind, hmm?" Joe suggested with a roguish grin.
Jordan's smile was all the answer he needed, tucking her hand firmly within the crook of his arm, Joe led the way to the table. Behind them, the older Immortals grinned at each another and followed their companions. Lord Elrond entered, flanked on either side by the Princes Elladan and Elrohir; after a brief greeting to the assembly, the Peredhil took his seat; on queue, the gathered host followed suit. Seated between Joe and Breiric the Ranger, Methos looked across the table, to where Duncan sat next to Jordan; to her left, sat the Wood Elf and the Dwarf. Keeping a bland impression in place, Methos' hazel eyes roamed over Jordan's face, remembering a time when she looked at him with great admiration and deep affection; unfortunately, that was years ago. Methos continued to observe Jordan throughout the meal, listening quietly to the conversations around him. Talk of the Outlanders' return to their own land was avoided – which was fine by Methos, as long as they left Rivendell soon. Despite Methos' unlimited access to Lord Elrond's library, each day they remained at the Elven realm found the Ancient One becoming increasingly weary. Conditioned for so long to flee when the Buzz was felt, the journey home would be a relief in more ways than one. After the meal concluded, Lord Elrond bade his guests to enjoy themselves at the dessert tables set back from the dance floor.
"Are you coming, Jordie?" The Highlander asked.
"I'll be there in a minute." She answered, remaining seated at the table. After exchanging greetings with Lord Elrond and his sons, the Men drifted towards the dessert tables, conversing quietly in a language never heard before in Imladris – or Middle-earth, for that matter. Taking Legolas' hand in hers, Jordan gave it a reassuring squeeze.
"Why does the Son of Pier stare at you?" Legolas asked; his blue eyes darker than usual.
"I hadn't noticed he did." Jordan replied; the slight flush on her cheeks indicated otherwise.
"What exists between you and he?"
"Nothing! And . . . If you're wondering if we ever slept together, you know the answer." Jordan said, sotto voce.
The tension in Legolas' body eased somewhat at her words; he could not identify what caused his mental unease, why he felt the need for vigilance when the Son of Pier is near . . . or the unreasonable sense of rivalry and resentment he felt towards the tall, pale Man. Legolas stood, pulling Jordan up with him; she glanced towards Duncan, but she needn't worry, for his back faced them. Beside him, Methos and Joe stood at the edge of the dance floor, making small talk as they observed the Elves make merry. Emboldened, Jordan laid a hand on Legolas' cheek, pulled his head down and stole a kiss; lightly brushing her lips against his, and along his cheek, she whispered into his ear.
"There is nothing between us."
"Forgive me, Melamin." The Elf answered.
"Always. Will you join us?" Jordan asked with a hopeful smile.
"I will come to you tonight, Melamin; Lord Elrond's sons will leave shortly, and I wish to speak to them." Legolas replied. Jordan nodded, and gave the Elf's hand another gentle squeeze. She turned to walk towards the dance floor, when Legolas pulled her back and gave her a hard and thorough kiss.
"Do not forget, Melamin, you are mine." He said, before releasing her.
Legolas strode off towards the twin Lords of Imladris. Jordan watched him leave, worrying her lower lip; turning back to the dance floor, her eyes met Methos' unwavering gaze, an indecipherable expression upon his patrician face. Jordan blushed, unsure what he witnessed. Taking a deep breath, Jordan smoothed her dress and held her head high as she went to join them.
"Anyone feel like dessert?" Methos asked; he looked at her appraisingly.
"Yeah, I think I'll get some." Duncan said.
"Nah – I'll pass." Joe replied.
"Jordan?" The Ancient One asked; Methos' golden-green gaze locked with hers once more.
"No. Thank you." She answered, forcing a polite smile on her face.
Duncan and Methos wandered over to the dessert table; the Eldest deliberately placed himself within Jordan's direct line of view. There is no way she could not see him. Taking his time, Methos perused the Elven sweetmeats and confections, amused by Jordan's dogged determination to ignore him. When the men returned, Adam stood in front of Jordan; selecting a plump, red strawberry, Adam held it out to her.
"Jordan?" The Eldest asked quietly.
"No. Thank you." she replied expressionlessly.
"Suit yourself." Methos answered, slowly biting into the juicy berry, watching her face as he chewed the fruit; it took all of Jordan's will power to keep her face expressionless under the older Immortal probing gaze - especially since her Elven lover stood with the twin Lords not too far away. Jordan could feel her face grow warmer as she glared up at him; the Eldest saw she isn't unaffected as she strove to portray; her eyes are darker in color than normal, and the slight flush upon her cheeks is a dead giveaway, despite her flat expression. Brushing past the Ancient One, Jordan grabbed Duncan's hand and tugged the Scot towards the floor.
"Hey -!" the Highlander exclaimed.
"Come on, Duncan – let's dance." She said cajolingly. Balancing his plate precariously, her Teacher protested.
"Jordie, I'm eating!"
"Finish it later – dance with me!" Jordan took Duncan's plate from him.
"You don't mind holding this, do you?" the young Immortal asked the Ancient One, without looking directly at him.
The woman gave Duncan a winning smile as she thrust his plate towards Methos, pushing it into his chest harder than necessary. Jordan's smile slipped a notch when Methos' fingers deliberately caressed her hand beneath the plate. As an afterthought, her Elder gave the woman his best boyish grin. Methos decided if he wanted to have a civil conversation with Jordan, he'd best not provoke her further.
"I don't know the steps, Jordie." Duncan said.
"I'll teach you the steps!" Jordan insisted as she turned towards her Mentor.
"Fine, fine, Jordie - go slow!" the Highlander said as she dragged him away.
Eager for the rare opportunity to teach Duncan something new, and needing to put distance between herself and Adam, Jordan took the Clansman's hand and led him to the dance floor. Timing it so they joined the gracefully twirling Elves, they worked their way towards the centre of floor; Joe turned towards his friend.
"What was that all about?" Joe asked, plucking a honey coated morsel from Duncan's plate.
"Oh, you saw that, eh?" Methos asked with a slightly embarrassed grin on his patrician features.
"Hard not to; you're right in front of me. Besides, it's what I do, Old Man; even if I didn't have front row seats, that stain on your shirt gives it away." Came the cheeky response.
Looking down, Methos saw the cream and bright red berry glaze smeared across the front of his tunic. Handing his plate to the Watcher, the Eldest took his napkin and carefully blotted up as much of the confection as he could.
"Smart ass." Methos muttered.
Joe's grin just got wider before he turned his attention to back to the dance floor and his charge. Smiling up at Duncan, Jordan's laughter mingled with his, when the Highlander, a graceful and adept dancer, faltered occasionally. With an indulgent smile, Duncan accepted Jordan's lead; soon it became clear he was merely humouring her; he did not need his Jordan's help to guide her thru the intricate dance. Methos waited, gathering his courage to cut in. Though he wished to speak with her alone, there never seemed to be the right time, and he greatly desired to come to an understanding before they left Rivendell. It will be awkward to travel together and not speak. As Duncan and Jordan danced, Methos became cognizant of the Golden Elf, how Legolas followed Jordan's every movement.
The plot thickens. Methos thought to himself.
"Joe, what do you think of Goldilocks?"
"Y'mean that Legless guy?"
"'Legolas' is his name. And he's a Prince." The Ancient One said with a grin.
"Kinda reserved, y'know – he'd make a helluva poker player, eh? These damn Elves are hard to read, get my drift? I thought Mac was boring to watch sometimes, but Elves . . . "
"You notice how Prince Legolas hardly takes his eyes off Jordan?"
"Yeah, so?" the Watcher grunted. Exasperated, the Immortal clucked his tongue.
"Don't you think its . . . odd?" Methos contemplated how Legolas hardly looked away from Jordan.
"Nah; in case y'haven't noticed, Jordie is a helluva looker, y'know? Besides, he probably feels responsible for her. You know, that whole 'damsel in distress' bit." The younger Man said, dismissing his friend's concerns.
"Well, let's hope that's all there is to it." Methos posed.
"What're you saying?"
"For a Watcher, you sure aren't very observant."
"I'm watching Mac, and – wait a minute; are you implying that Jordie and his royal blondeness . . . ?! Nah."
"He's always close by." The Immortal countered.
"So what - it's no big deal, Adam; shows he's got good taste."
"If you say so. . . but, it could be a problem - yes?" Methos continued, watching Duncan spin Jordan around the dance floor. Joe sighed; they didn't need any complications.
"All right; let's just say there is somethin' goin' on between those two; if there is, and I mean a huge 'if '- it won't last. We're going home soon, remember? Let 'em have their fun. We busted our asses to find her – sure as hell Mac's not goin' home without 'er." The Watcher responded, nodding towards his charge on the dance floor.
Methos decided to keep his suspicions to himself . . . for now. Pouting when he followed her steps easily, Jordan smiled again when her Teacher raised her chin and tapped his forehead against hers. Duncan swept her around the floor twice before moving them back to the centre of the floor, where he changed the steps into the familiar waltz. Deciding it was time to tie up loose ends, Methos handed the dessert plates to a passing servant. Methos took a deep breath before turning to the Watcher.
"Here I go." He said briskly.
"Where're you goin'?" Joe asked, suspicious.
"To dance with a pretty lady." The Eldest said innocently.
"Adam . . . " the younger Man's warning was lost him.
"Wish me luck, Joe." The Eldest tossed over his shoulder.
"Hey, it's your funeral." Joe called after him with a shake of his head.
"Don't take long with the shovel - yes?" Methos tossed over his shoulder.
Joe sighed, not bothering to watch as his friend cut in on the dance. he knew he'd get the details eventually. Instead, he decided to inspect the barrels from which the Elves were dispensing several different types of Dorwinian wines – just in case his expertise in the area was required. Making his way towards the Highlander and his Student, Methos tapped Duncan on the shoulder.
"May I?" the Ancient One asked.
"Out of all the females here, you couldn't find a partner, Adam?" Duncan muttered under his breath as he released Jordan. With a gallant bow, the younger Immortal placed Jordan's hand in Methos'.
"I found the one I want right here, MacLeod." Methos retorted as he took the Highlander's place. Methos' large hand in the middle of her back pulled Jordan closer. Silently they danced, their gliding steps in perfect unison.
"Smile, Jordan; anyone watching would think you don't want to dance with me." The Immortal said pleasantly as he studied her face.
"I don't." the woman sullenly replied.
Methos suddenly lowered Jordan towards the ground in a deep dip. Jordan's eyes widened in surprise; reflexively, she gripped his shoulder tighter. The older man's lips brushed across her cheek lightly .
"You didn't always feel that way." Methos murmured quietly near her ear.
Jordan turned her head sharply to glare at him; that was a mistake, for it brought their faces close together - close enough for the woman to clearly see the golden flecks in Methos' hazel eyes - and their lips inches apart.
"I do now." Jordan said. Despite herself, Jordan felt the same twinge of attraction that first drew her to him; with a crooked grin, he raised the woman and continued to waltz her around the room. Leaning away from him, Jordan attempted to put some distance between their bodies.
Impertinent, senseless child. Obstinate girl. Brat. Methos thought to himself, before sighing inwardly.
"Come back to me, Jordan." He said, pulling her back closer to him.
Jordan looked up at him sharply, unsure how to reply to his ambiguous remark. She was saved from responding, when Methos stepped away from her as the song ended, clapping along with the crowd. Gesturing for her to precede him from the dance floor, Jordan gladly walked ahead of her Elder, to where Duncan was finishing his desserts. Spying Joe across the room, Methos made a direct line towards what he hoped were the beer and mead barrels, in dire need of the fortification only a stiff drink can provide, especially after his frustratingly brief interaction with Jordan, which did not go as well as he hoped.
"Would you like some?" the Clansman offered his plate to his Student.
"No, I'm going to get some fresh air." She declined.
"Want some company?" Duncan asked.
"I'll be fine; please - enjoy your dessert." Jordan insisted.
"I'll walk you back after I finish this, then." The Highlander decided.
"Kuya (Brother), I'll be right outside. And I can find my own way back; I've been here a while, remember?" Jordan said gently. His overprotective instinct was in overdrive; normally, Jordan would be thankful; right now, she wanted a break. From all of them.
"Besides, there are some lovely ellith over there who have been eating you up with their eyes." The young Immortal said, with a nod towards the group of she-Elves openly admiring the Highlander.
"Joe has Adam to see him safely to his room; enjoy Lord Elrond's hospitality before we leave. And don't be greedy – send a few over to Adam and Joe so they don't feel left out." Jordan teased; she knew full well the Highlander is to females what catnip is to cats. Jordan smiled, for Duncan's appeal transcended realms as well.
"Well, if you're sure -" The Scot answered; admittedly hovering over Jordan since their reunion, the Clansman would be glad to make the acquaintances of the very, very lovely group of ellith his Student pointed out. . .
"Good night, Duncan." Jordan said firmly, kissing his cheek and giving him a small hug. With a sigh of relief, the woman headed out towards the balcony, for much needed fresh air to clear her mind.
#
Mannon le, Mellon (how are you, my friend)?" Elrohir asked.
"How do you think he is?" Elladan asked his brother, exasperated.
" If you would let him speak, we all will know. Let him answer." Elrohir retorted. The Mirkwood Elf stood with the Rivendell Lords and Dwarf, silently watching Jordan and the other Outlanders. Legolas shrugged noncommittally.
"They've come to take her back, Mellon (my friend)." Elrohir said matter-of-factly before he took a sip of mead. Elrond's son ignored the glares his twin and the Dwarf shot in his direction.
"No one said Lady Jordan is leaving." Gimli cut in confidently, a scowl on his ruddy face.
"Oh, and do you know something we don't?" Elrohir asked the Dwarf as he studied the stout fellow.
He failed to see any redeeming qualities in this coarse, unrefined creature before him, and Elrohir could not understand why Legolas chose the Underground Dweller to be his closest friend; however, it is well known amongst the Races, the Mirkwood Elves - more dangerous and fierce by nature, are less wise than their Imladris and Lorien kin. Still, Elrohir had to admit - the fierce protectiveness of the Master Dwarf regarding his Elf-friend's 'interest', is admirable, and quite amusing – like that of a rodent coming to a cat's defense. Though his eyes were fierce, upon his lips, hidden within Gimli's bushy beard is a tiny smile; unbeknownst to the twin Lords, the Dwarf is, in fact, privy to an interesting tidbit of information . . .
: : : : Imladris
Earlier that afternoon
After it was discovered who the Strangers are, and what business they had with the Lady Jordan, Gimli noticed when his Elf-friend left the small assembly. Allowing the Wood Elf time to absorb the recent events, Gimli let him be. Before dinner, it was no surprise he found Legolas at the archery range, firing arrows in rapid succession. When the Elf Prince did not acknowledge his friend's presence, the Dwarf knew the pointy ear to be deeply troubled. Gimli watched in silence as Legolas swiftly emptied four full quivers into the target placed four hundred feet away; only when the center could no longer accommodate additional arrows, were the surrounding rings bristling with the feathered shafts. When the target was brought near, Gimli barely glanced at the projectiles neatly embedded in an orderly, precise manner. Gimli waited for the Elf to speak, but Legolas remained silent. The Elf-friend was rapidly becoming impatient. After the Pointy-Ear pulled free the last shaft, did the son of Glóin speak.
"She spoke the truth." The Dwarf said gruffly; Legolas did not reply, but continued to place the arrows into the quivers.
"She did say her companions would come." Gimli continued. His Elven friend paused for the briefest moment before continuing his task.
"Well . . . ?" Gimli grunted, with his thick arms crossed over his barrel-chest. He was beginning to lose his patience with the Mirkwood Elf.
"She will leave -" he continued.
"She will remain here." Legolas interrupted calmly. Gimli looked at his friend skeptically, wondering if the Elf had too much afternoon sun.
"Confident, are ye?" The Dwarf countered.
"I have reason to be." Legolas replied; he gave the Dwarf an enigmatic look.
"Phagh! Riddles are best reserved for wizards – why think you she will stay?" Gimli asked.
"I asked her to Bind herself to me." Legolas answered.
The Elf's words caught the stout fellow off guard. Gimli blinked several times, and his mouth worked silently for a few seconds before his ruddy face broke into a wide grin. The son of Glóin grasped the Elf by his elbows, then immediately sobered.
"Did she . . . ?"
"Accept? Not yet." Legolas said. "But she will." The Elf added confidently; despite the fact Jordan had not yet consented to have him, Legolas was not overly concerned, for he believed - deep within his soul, that she felt for him as he did her.
Gimli nodded slowly; though he is thrilled for his pointy-eared friend, the Elf-friend did not think the matter would be settled so easily; the son of Glóin wondered if the matter could be settled so simply. To Bind with Legolas required Jordan forgo her return to her world. However, if the Elf felt secure about his Lady's heart, then it was enough for the Dwarf to believe the same . . . if he could only get past his unease. There was something about the tall, pale one, the Son-of-Pier, that did not sit well with the son of Glóin. : : : :
Elladan stood silently at his brother's side, a solemn expression on his face; their Mirkwood friend, as he had throughout the meal, remained silent, his blue gaze focused on his lover. Initially, Legolas believed Jordan Waters deluded, yet every revelation about her led to more questions, until Legolas could no longer deny Jordan Waters is what she claimed to be- not of his world. The Elf is intensely curious to know how Jordan crossed the boundaries between worlds, for it required magic – powerful magic, which Jordan did not possess; clearly, her presence in Middle-earth is not her doing, and Legolas is convinced, though unable to reason how and why, that Jordan is meant to be in Middle-earth. Each day she remained in Imladris strengthened his conclusion; becoming lovers is a natural progression of what is meant to be. Normally in total command of his emotions and actions, Legolas felt his control over his life slip away, when the unthinkable happened – he fell in love with Jordan. It no longer mattered that Legolas' chosen one is not of his world – nor that she is Mortal. The answers he sought are beginning to unfold. Legolas' eyes narrowed, and a frown marred his features. The arrival of Jordan's 'kin' complicated matters; this MacLeod, the 'Highlander', as they called him, is able to cross worlds as well – spawned more questions . . . Legolas can no longer ignore the twinges of dread beginning to cloud his heart. As he pondered the situation, Legolas watched the Son of Pier and Jordan part ways in opposite directions. Ignoring the conversations taking place around him, Legolas studied Jordan's kin as he waited for her to rejoin the festivities; his innate, Elven ability sensed MacLeod's very essence - that of a warrior, evident in his stance, his hard body, sculpted face and intense, dark eyes framed by shoulder length black-brown hair neatly pulled back into a silver clasp. Jordan did not need to tell him of this MacLeod's 'protective nature'.
I possess one, too, Meleth nín. No one takes what is mine. Legolas thought grimly.
The revelry continued well into the night; apparently Jordan retired for the evening, for she did not return, and the other Outlanders remained inside. Finally, Legolas finally spoke. "Excuse me." The Golden Elf said. The remaining three silently watched Legolas weave his way through the crowd; when certain their woodland kin was out of ear shot, Elladan punched his brother in the arm.
"Man (What)?!" Elrohir exclaimed as his mead sloshed onto his hand.
"I am sure he already knows that." Elladan said.
"Well, maybe 'twill spur Legolas to action. He is quite complacent about it. If it were me, I'd - "
"Throw a tantrum and beg the maiden to remain by your side." Elladan finished for his twin.
"Is that wrong?" Elrohir asked innocently.
"You've not courted a maiden in an Age-" Elladan reminded his brother.
"We've more important matters to tend to-" Elrohir retorted.
"— true; if memory serves me correctly, you are always the first to run away, especially when the elleth became too attached to you. And that is wrong. If you weren't my brother -"
"I'd be someone else's brother." Elrohir said with a cheeky grin. "Well, I'd still do it, if the elleth of my choice were to leave me -" Elrohir insisted.
"No one said Lady Jordan is leaving." Gimli cut in confidently.
"Oh really, Fangon (Bearded One)? The Lady's kin comes to claim her. Surely even you don't think they will leave without her, simply because she and Legolas are . . . er, how shall we say –
"Close." Elladan provided tactfully.
"Lovers." Elrohir said firmly, glaring at his twin.
"Hrmmph." Gimli grunted; the Elven Lord voiced the Dwarf's private fears for his pointy-eared friend. Hope remained - faint as it is . . . but only time would tell.
"Indeed." Elrohir said smugly.
His brother said nothing more. By mutual consent, with goblets of Miruvor and mead in hand, the Elves and Dwarf stood silently together, each wrapped in their own private thoughts, as they watched their Mirkwood Kin step outside in search of the Lady Jordan.
#
Maranwë sighed; more than anything, she wished to be reveling with the other ellith at the banquet. Instead, it is her turn to see to the nightly duties. Already, she replenished the supplies in the bathing rooms throughout the wings, refilled the oil lamps, and cleared the many passageways and hallways of stray leaves that found their way inside. The she-Elf quietly closed the door to the Lady's chambers, and continued down the hallway, determining the many lit torches and lamps aren't in need of further attention. Highly disdainful of the Lady Jordan, whose chambers she finished tending - and to whom she bade a grudging 'good night', Maranwë readily admitted the woman's presence in Imladris is diverting at the very least, and provided many sporting talks. This Daughter of Man's peculiar ways, antics, and most especially, her consorting with the Crown Prince caused much speculation, fueling many entertaining, slightly scandalous, sometimes heated, and always lively conversations throughout the Homely House.
The tongues of Imladris continued to wag on, because of the Outlanders who came to retrieve her. Their unforeseen arrival, much to Lord Elrond's chagrin, and continued presence in the Realm provids such a diversion, dispelling boredom an ellon or elleth suffered from. All the same, the she-Elf will be glad to see the backs of Lady Jordan and her ilk, no matter how handsome the two tall, Dark Ones are; the Son of Daw, with his oddly stilted gait, is helpless as an overturned beetle - always in need of assistance whence navigating the many staircases of the House. Everywhere she turned, Maranwë heard naught but 'Lady Jordan'. Turning a lamp's flame down low, Maranwë didn't hear the light whisper of footsteps until they directly behind her; the she-Elf called out to her friend as she turned to greet her, impatient for the latest gossip Ceallach surely brought; it must be particularly dramatic, for the elleth returned surprisingly early; until Maranwë is able to join the revelry herself, the maiden eagerly anticipated the sweets her friend promised to bring.
"Ohhh, the gossip must be particularly juicy, Ceallach! What news do you bring of the wom - Mmm M-My Lord Legolas?!" She gasped; flushing a deep red, the elleth hastily bowed in deference to the Crown Prince.
"Good even, Maranwë." Legolas greeted the elleth with a stern expression on his face.
"Good even, My Lord." The servant answered, her face burning with shame.
Ceallach had oft warned her to mind her tongue; the elleth breathed a sigh of relief, and thanked Manwë she did not speak ill of the Prince's consort . . . in his very presence. The maiden did not look up again, until she heard the sound of the privacy latch dropping into place.
#
Methos was restless; after seeing Joe back to his room, the Oldest was not yet ready to retire for the night. Pleasantly relaxed from the mead and beer he imbibed with Gimli, the man's thoughts darkened when he recalled his dance with Jordan. Methos is determined to seek her out, for he fully intended to finish what they started on the dance floor. Wandering the deserted hallways for a time, unsure where she is housed, the Old Man was ready to abandon his search and return to his quarters, for nary a soul is in sight. Rounding yet another corner, he spied a she-Elf in an adjoining hallway, her head bowed as she stood quite still.
"Manke naa (Where is) Lady Jordan's sambe (room)?" Methos called out his question to her.
'Lady Jordan' yet again! The she-Elf huffed as she straightened.
Maranwë was about to inform the Son of Pier the Lady Jordan was not alone, when she thought better of it. Hiding her annoyance, the elleth politely pointed to the Lady's chamber door, before making her hasty retreat, not bothering to hide the smirk on her lovely face.
#
Closing the balcony doors, Jordan sighed, glad to be away from the crowd; after parting with Duncan, she returned immediately to her quarters, wanting a moment to herself before Legolas came to her. Jordan took her slippers off and placed them next to the fireplace. She ignored the slight increase of the Buzz, certain it is the condescending and brusque she-Elf, Maranwë, skulking outside. Jordan watched the flames in the fireplace dance leap and twist; the sound of the privacy latch falling into place is all the warning she had, before she is immobilized by the painfully tight grip on her upper arms.
"What is between you and the Son of Pier?" Legolas ground out, giving her a slight shake. Jordan looked up at him, wide eyed; she has never seen her lover like this before; Jordan sagged in his grip, shocked.
"Do not lie to me, Jordan." The Elf warned, his voice low and intense.
"What's wrong with you!? I already told you, there's nothing between us!" She answered, in awe and a touch frightened by the display of emotion from the normally composed, controlled Elf.
Legolas paused, listening to the sounds in the hallway. The footfalls are too heavy, the gait too long to be the elleth's . . . he instantly recognized the voice calling out. Jordan felt the Buzz intensify again, and her eyes darted to the door. Surely the insolent Maranwë is on the other side eavesdropping; Jordan's face flushed with anger and embarrassment; undoubtedly, the she-Elf's extraordinary hearing enabled her to pick up every detail of their spat. Legolas' eyes narrowed when the footsteps stopped outside his lover's chamber. Misunderstanding the Elf's expression, Jordan's temper flared as well.
"I already told you – there's nothing between us. Why don't you believe me?" Jordan retorted. "I think you'd better leave before we say things we will regret." She said, her voice low and angry.
With an unexpectedly quick maneuver, Jordan broke the Elf's hold on her arms; twisting out of his grasp, she hadn't taken two steps when she was spun around . The Immortal's breath left her lungs in a rush when Legolas pushed Jordan back hard, up against the door of her chamber.
"Bragol thalion (strength)." Legolas' terse command reinforced the privacy latch. Looking over his shoulder, he spoke again.
"Tangwa en' templa (magic lock) . . . " Legolas directed the spell towards the balcony doors, sealing them from entry or egress.
#
Outside Jordan's chamber, Methos raised his hand to knock; taking a deep breath, he lowered his hand and placed a hand on either side of the doorframe, physically bracing himself. Resting his forehead against the door, the cool wood felt good against his fevered skin; Methos took a moment to organize his racing thoughts. Unable to hear through the thick door, the Ancient One pushed past the clamoring in his mind; he sent his senses outward . . . searching. He easily located Jordan within the room, and his brow furrowed, puzzled, for he detected another presence within; the immortal's signature is unfamiliar. Jordan was not alone. Methos' lips tightened, his hands balling into fists. Pushing away from the doorframe, Methos turned and walked away.
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Only One	By : HollyHobbit13 Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Crossovers Views: 4468 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Only One