Legolas was leaning over the flet wall, gazing down the main
walkway of his beloved city, wondering whether she would
ever see the home he was building for her.
Lord Legolas! The voice had acquired a touch
He turned towards its owner. Alatáriël,
he said, this is my private garden.
And it is charming, she said, advancing on him like
a cat stalking a bird.
Private, Legolas repeated.
Alatáriël smiled conspiratorially. So no one
will disturb us... Legolas. She laid her hands
upon his chest, sliding them up, over the fabric, deliberately
cupping and squeezing his muscles. You are so strong...
she whispered, so... She gave him a twisted
smile, which she seemed to imagine was seductive.
Gently, but firmly, Legolas removed her hands. Your father
will be wondering where you are, Alatáriël,
he said, I had better take you home.
She came up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear. He knows
where I am. He is busytalking to the Mistress of
the Ceremony, asking her all sorts of questions about the harvest
rite... She slipped her arms around him and, pulling him
close, pressed her groin to his.
You must be celibate for three months... she said,
Indeed, said Legolas, so please
But I will not tell.
Against everything he believed in, Legolas exerted his strength,
grasping her hands and removing them forcibly from around his
waist; he held her at arms length. This garden is
private. Please leave. Now. Or I will call a guard.
You would not dare!
Do not test me!
The elleth shook off his hands. Just you wait, she
cried. Just you WAIT! And she picked up her skirts
and ran from the flet.