I lay against the log in the hopes of getting some sleep, my feet ached after our long run across Middle earth, and I was physically and emotionally drained. The log felt firm and comforting against my back and I sighed, sleep would claim me in moments, and I welcomed it.

I felt eyes on me, I did not open mine. I was too tired to. I heard Gandalf mutter something about taking the watch, his steps moved away, and the world was still. Nothing moved for several minutes. I heard restless feet, could still feel the eyes one me, but now they seemed to shift slightly, probably an imploring look at Ârâgorn . . .who then spoke.

“I need to speak with Gandalf. I have questions . . .”

I heard a relieved sigh. I would have smiled, but I was too tired even for that. I was sinking deeper into the welcoming arms of sleep, when the feet shifted again. How, you might ask, did I know they were his feet? I know the sound of his feet, soft buckskin boots have a distinctive sound. He would swear by all that was holy that his feet as silent as the opening bud, but I know better.

His steps have a distinctive sound, like a caress, a kiss upon the ground, as if apologising in advance for any injury he might cause by walking across it. In the beginning, I rolled my eyes at such ludicrousness, now I strain my ears to hear it.

We are friends, he and I, a friendship borne of a deep hatred now healed, but it was a hard won friendship. I could not now consider a day without him, and nor could he, I wager, although to hear us speak no one would know. We argue, we insult . . .we smile in secret. I do not think Gandalf and Ârâgorn stupid, Mahal forbid, no, but I do not think even they know how my heart sings when he is close to me.

I heard the two steps that brought him to my side and almost jumped out of my skin as it began to tingle with delight, but I did not move. Perhaps he thought me already asleep, I could tell. But what surprised me was what he did next.

Without warning, a head dropped to my chest, a warm body curled by my side, and an arm, warm and gentle, draped about me and pressed to my breast. I suppressed a gasp of surprise, not easy to do in the circumstances. I felt the head and hand shift about slightly, as if to caress me and get comfortable at the same time. A deep and abiding contentment filled me then, and my arm curled around his shoulders to hold him to me. At what point my brain had ordered such a thing, I do not know. Instinct, perhaps, love perhaps.

For some, love is something that belongs below the belt at the juncture of the legs. Not for me, this five minute craze. For me, it is in my chest, in my soul. Sex is good, this is better.

My head turned a little then, resting my cheek against his hair. And, for the life of me I don’t know why I did it, but I did. I kissed him. His hair was so soft I could swear it was silk. We had never shared this before, it was a spur of the moment thing, and I expected to find myself minus six teeth at any moment.

Nothing happened . . .well, I say nothing happened. A smile, I felt a smile against my cotton shirt. You can’t explain that feeling, you just know what it is . . .a smile. It lingered for a long time before I finally sank into sleep.

I woke slowly. It was still dark, and the elf, who I had almost given up as a figment of a dream or a wild fantasy, did indeed rest within my arms, draped across my chest. I did not move. I could hear Gandalf and Ârâgorn speaking softly somewhere out of sight on the far side of the now almost out fire. I could not have been asleep for more than a few minutes, but I was refreshed.

The elf’s eyes were wide open, though he was motionless. As an experiment I gently pressed a kiss to the top of Legolas’ head. Nothing happened, he was asleep. I pressed my cheek to his head and remained still. I would not sleep more, but I was more than content to hold him as he rested.

Despite the difference in height, Legolas and I are well matched in shape, although with the numerous layers of clothing I wear I suppose it is hard to tell. At that moment I was wearing only my shirt and trousers. I soaked up the feel of him against me, marinated my senses with it, in case something were to happen to either of us that robbed us of another chance to do this again. War was coming, you had to be prepared.

Eru moves in mysterious ways, so they say, this night he proved that he does. I love this elf, more than I have ever loved another creature. My heart sings, my soul dances with rapture, and to think this moment was not planned in any way. There was no question, no consent, just knowing that the time was right.

I smile gently, and to think this is just laying together in sleep. Perhaps, if the luck Ârâgorn lives by lasts for a little longer, we will have more such moments, or even a lifetime, but I will not be so presumptuous. One day at a time, sweet Mahal, that’s all I’m asking of you.

I lay quietly, a light smile dusting my lips. My eyes were closed, but I was not ready for more sleep. A gold head rested against my chest, rising and falling as I breathed. A hand smoothed up my side in a gentle caress, though the owner was undoubtedly in slumber. My fingers played absently with the hair that had fanned itself across my arm and shoulder. I tucked a lock of it behind a delicately tipped ear, inadvertently tracing the outer edge.

The sleeping elf was instantly awake and grinning. Obviously he has intensely ticklish ears. I stow that nugget away for future reference. The smile on my face widened as I did it again, this time on purpose. Legolas’ shoulder shifted in an attempt to shield his ear from the attentions of a wandering finger and a soft chuckle rose.

“Sorry I woke you, elf,” I said softly, though a part of me was not sorry at all.

The elf in question lifted his head. “I do not believe you,” he replied, smiling from ear to ear. Placing one hand over the other on my chest, he settled his chin on top of them to gaze directly into my eyes.

This action made me shivery all over, and Legolas knew it.

“Don’t try to provoke me,” I growled, although we both knew that there was little provocation needed. I was hooked on him, like a fish on a line, and judging by the sparkle in his eyes, so was he.

We were breathing the same air, gazing at each other. It would have taken little effort or movement for me to capture those alluring lips of his, but I didn’t. It would have taken little effort, or resistance, I expect, for me to have rolled him over and taken him, made him mine, but I did not want that.

For this moment was one of tender love, one of souls, an intimate communion, we had forever. My arm gently encircled his slim waist, smoothing up and down his back. He was already mind, and I his. Anything more was not pointless as such, it would be welcomed in its own time, but was needless in that moment.

Beneath the backdrop of the stillness of a Rohan night, and gentle voices not far away, there was a peace with us in that moment. And without words, we smiled. Legolas declined his head and kissed me, gentle enough not to break the moment, firmly enough to prove to me, that I was indeed . . .awake.

El fin