Row your boat

Her lovely voice escorted them along the Anduin, the song endearing in the strange accents of her tongue. English, she had called it. A tongue he nearly knew nothing about. And if he remembered properly, a language that wasn't even hers in the first place. Joy, awe and a hint of sadness. All those emotions conveyed through the rising and falling of her voice. Was he the only one that felt them so strongly?

Legolas was at loss. Leaning upon the wooden railing of the master corsair ship, he couldn't make sense of the turmoil that had seized his heart. His thoughts, disorganised for the very first time since his mother's death, could not settle. Part of him wanted to hold Frances forever, chasing away the sadness that she sang so freely, replacing it with her smile. He would worship her to the end of her days. Such a short time, but the time of his life.

Yet, he didn't dare. What would become of him once she was gone? Would he fade, leaving his father behind, he that we his only remaining family? Could he really survive her death? For he knew now, that there was no turning back. His heart had chosen against his will; the bond had already begun to form. Like no before her, he could feel her emotions more clearly as the hours passed. His Feä had overlooked his reason, binding in the most unexpected manner. There would be no other in his heart; his thought continually reaching for hers. And she was miserable without his presence. This, he could feel as well. Wherever she was, her emotions were now his. Her pain, her doubts, but also her immense and lovely heart.

Why! O why did the Valar punish him so? Giving him the prefect companion only to steal her away? Why did he have to be bound to a mortal? For he loved her, like no other before her, and he knew that he would never love again.

"Now I'm bathed in light

Something just isn't right

I'm under your spell

How else could it be

Anyone would notice me

It's magic I can tell

How you set me free

Brought me out so easily"

As she sang of love and sorrow, Legolas spared a look around him. Dark clouds hovered above their fleet, filtering the light and plunging the valley of the Anduin in darkness. Their arrival in Pelargir had been timely. Effectively stopping the corsair before they raged war on Minas Tirith, the dead host had cleared the vessels faster than any army could have. The Haradrim, cornered on the docks, had valiantly fought but to no avail.

Victory came swiftly, and Aragorn released the cursed men from their oath. The Dunedain had breathed in relief at being rid of their unsettling presence. Each one of the Grey Company had taken command over a corsair vessel, gaining in the process a little army from Pelargir and Lamedon. For the men had come, those that Aragorn had summoned to follow before the great city of Linhir. They had answered his call, alike to the Dead host before them, and followed their future king to battle. Aragorn truly was an inspiring figure! Legolas hoped that he would come to see it someday.

The Grey Company had even found some prisoners, all of them eager to fight. Now they had set course to Minas Tirith at full sails. The wind blew from the sea, pushing them faster along the Anduin. It brought the smell of iodine, and with it the deep longing to answer its call. Legolas sighed. Those damned seagulls did nothing to hide his discomfort!

Truly, the elf had never been so lost during the long years of his life. And still, the lovely voice rose and fell in the air, telling him all there was to know to soothe his worries. Enthralled, Legolas surrendered his will and followed his heart. Silently descending the few steps that separated him from … the light of his days. Joy, kindness, softness and melancholy. All of it in her intense gaze.

The last note of her song had ended now, dying on her tongue like the sweetest melody. Frances' eyes locked with the deepest blue she had ever beheld. They were sad and happy at the same time, ageless and so profound that she would have drowned had he not spoken.

"Would you care to enlighten me about the origin of this song?"

Legolas' smooth voice felt like a caress, his glow the only real light in this dawnless day. Surprised that he would approach her, Frances made to stand up but the elf lifted his hand.

"Please, do not rise on my account. I will rather settle beside you and rest for a while if that is agreeable?"

His fair features were set in such uncertainty that she blinked. He looked … adorable. Like a little boy caught in a compromising situation. Gone was the proud and confident elf, badass warrior from the fellowship. What he offered instead; doubts and sincerity was like an open link to his inner self. Yet his eyes shone like gems in a pitch black sky, calling her home.

Frances' mouth quirked upwards.

"I would be happy to share this fantastic spot of creaking planks with you, my lord Prince."

The golden-haired elf smiled faintly, and lowered himself gracefully. Not too close, so as to avoid any discomfort to hit her. But not too far either, for he craved her presence. It had been too many days apart.

"I see that your wit never fades, no matter how exhausted you are."

"It cannot, for my wit is the only thing I have left."

Sadness washed over her features, a deep longing so similar to his own that his heart missed a bit. But she didn't allow him to interrogate her further.

"As for this song, it is from a TV show: 'Buffy, the vampire slayer'. And here, if I judge by the quirk of your eyebrow, I see that it raises a lot of questions."

And so, for the first time in ages, Legolas truly learnt something new as Frances described to him the principles of TV shows, of vampires and human legends, and the functioning of her world. He could spot the melancholy in her voice as she plunged into her memories. Travels, technology, sweets, traditions. There was so much to say, and so little time. Yet he could hear her attachment to her world. Could she ever be happy in middle earth, provided they both survived the war? Would she forsake her whole life, her family and friends to stay?

It seemed that, to whatever end, their love was doomed to fail. And those blasted seagulls didn't help! But then, she startled him by laying a hand on his arm.

"Do not let the sea unsettle you, Legolas. I have myself a great love for the Ocean, and have bathed countless times in its waters. Yet, I am free."

His eyebrows shot upwards, stunned that she had felt his discomfort through their newfound bond. Or had she always been able to do so? It wasn't the first time she surprised him by her capacity to feel others' emotions. Always, she seemed attuned to her friends, mirroring their thoughts and searching to comfort them. Such was the depth of her heart. While his mind wandered through those considerations, he heard that she had started singing anew. Had his silence unsettled her?

"Row row row your boat, gently down the stream.

Merrily merrily merrily merrily, life is but a dream."

It was the same verse, over and over again, and after a while she gestured for him to join her. And he did, stumbling at first over the words in this foreign language. His musical voice joined hers until they mingled totally in the melody. Then, Frances smiled at him and started singing variations. Their voices entwined, dancing around each other, creating the most beautiful ensemble. It was exhilarating, so incredible that she lifted her gaze to his and lost herself in his eyes. Had she not been singing, Frances would have lain down in his arms to sleep. Or kissed him altogether.

He was so devilishly handsome, so bright under the grey blanket of the doomed sky. And, for once, totally open to her. Singing with him felt right, and Frances stopped thinking, her mind travelling to him over the rainbow of their entwined voices. She ached to touch him; he answered her call by letting his hand brush her wrist. Then, his fingers settled on hers, skin tingling where he caressed her. And still, he continued singing, giving her a steady phrase to rely on as she embroidered the melody around his. This simple creation was so beautiful that tears came to her eyes.

The light protest of wooden planks caused his hand to retreat harshly, and their song to end. Legolas turned around to see two sets of very similar faces smiling down at them.

"What was this pretty song about, sweet lady?"

Frances lifted an eyebrow, seemingly amused by Elrohir's nickname. She did not know how fitting Legolas thought it to be; his touch had been sweeter than sugar on her palm. Soon enough though, the cold wind replaced his warm skin.

Frances felt keenly the loss of Legolas' hand in hers, the slight tingling receding too fast. But she knew the twins to be insufferable teases; they would stop at nothing to invite a blush on her cheeks. Better then to hide her flustered face at the intimate moment she had been sharing with the elf. The joy of it, though, still lingered in her heart.

"It's a kids' song, about a boat travelling gently on the quiet waters of a river. A poetic way of remembering how time flies I think."

Elrohir's grey eyes twinkled, and she knew he was about to retort.

"So kids songs now, uh? You probably know that you are the youngest of us all on this deck?"

Elladan's hand came in front of her to haul her to her feet. Still, he didn't let go of her shoulders while she found her balance. Silently thanking him for the assistance, Frances turned her head left and right, her gaze sweeping the deck. Her eyes lingered a moment too much on Legolas' glorious features. His eyes still shone from the moment they had shared, deepening his glow. Even in this gloomy atmosphere, the nobility of his countenance and gentleness of his gaze did not fail to comfort her. Behind him, at the top of the stairs, stood Aragorn. His face set in a worry, his shoulders slumped, his knuckles white upon the railing. Frances frowned, and turned back to the twins.

"I am the youngest all right. But our Chieftain up there is the second youngest."

"A feat for such an old man," chuckled Elrohir.

Aragorn's attention turned to them, and Frances snickered. Such was his habit at being teased by the twins that he instantly knew what the discussion was about. The young lady eyed him merrily, and spoke loudly enough so he could hear.

"Let it never be known that an eighty-seven-year-old man led me on a merry ride!"

The twins laughed openly, and a snort echoed from above. For the split of a second, she caught a glimpse of Aragorn's smile. There, she had done it! Beside her, Legolas' hears had turned a lovely shade of pink. His expression, oscillating between horror and mirth, told her all she needed to know. Her forwardness had shocked him! How innocent could an elf be, after so many years of life? Frances was dumbfounded, especially in the light of the twins' snickers behind her.

Legolas exhaled slowly, chasing away the image Frances had called forth with her words. He should really know better than to imagine her in such an activity! And she winked at him, the little vixen! A mischievous gleam shone in his gaze, and the elf bent forward, his mouth but a few inches from her face.

"I didn't take you for the kind of women who like older men."

Frances turned to him, her eyes but a few inches from his own. She could feel his breath on her cheek as well as the mixed scent of pine trees and leather. Inspiring in delight, her lips curled into a shy smile.

"How you are mistaken, my lord prince. Older is the perfect age for me."