Only One

Disclaimer: Constructive criticism, suggestions and feedback are welcome. Flames will be cheerfully ignored. All recognizable characters belong to their respective, copyrighted Owners. Jordan Waters is mine. I have no money; please, don’t sue

Note: For those of you following this story--thank you for your pace; ce; I especially appreciate and thank those who have taken the time to send feedback and encouragement—you know who you are!!!! My sincere apologies for butchering the Elvish language; my main source is www.gray-company.org. what a wonderful site!

Explore Your World


Dawn found Jordan asleep on the roof. Slowly the sun rose in the sky, gradually burning away the haze enveloping the lands beyond Rivendell. Golden fingers of light gently touched the sleeping Immortal. Curled up in a ball, the Immortal frowned, the chill in the air rousing her from peaceful slumber. Her hands searched for the bed sheets she’d kicked off. There were none; instead, she touched cold stone. Drowsily, Jordan yawned, opened her eyes and looked around. No wonder she was cold.

“I must’ve dozed off.” she murmured.

Slowly sitting up, the Immortal shivered in the cold morning air, Jordan stretched her stiff limbs; rubbing her arms vigorously, she forced her blood to circulate warmth. From her high vantage point, in the distance below were the graceful forms oves ves going about their usual morning activities. Aware of their keen eyesight, she carefully climbed down from the roof—hopefully before Lord Elrond received word of his guest’s odd behavior.

After a hurried bath, the Immortal slipped into a butter soft brown tunic and matching leggings, stuffing a small satchel with fruit and Lembas on the spur of the moment. Jordan quickly slung it over her shoulder as she walked towards the balcony and down the stairs. Seeking privacy to brood over her state of affairs, Jordan made her way towards the glade, avoiding as many Elves as possible wit bet being rude. Try as she might to remember her dream, the details eluded her -- vanishing like mist on the water, yet the feeling of despair and foreboding remained.

Passing thru the dew-covered glade, Jordan’s footsteps bent the emerald hued grass, leaving a visible trail behind her. Striding towards the thick grove of trees, the Immortal’s feet carried her deep within the grove, farther than she’d ever ventured before. Absorbed in her thoughts, the grandeur of the trees passed by unnoticed, until finally, Jordan’s progress was abruptly halted when she splashed into a stream intersecting her path. Jordan blinked several times as the cold water rushed over her boots. She stared at the water blankly; her mind belatedly registered its presence—as if it suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Hastily backing out of the stream, Jordan shook the water off her leather boots before turning in a slow circle, studying her surroundings. Save for the stream merrily tinkling in its bed, it was quiet and still; the solemn mood permeating the air made the Immortal feel she was on Holy Ground . . .

: : : :
St. Ignacio Memorial Park
Manila, Philippines
September 1945


Two months after her parents’ departure, Jordan was learning the basics about the Game; standing in the middle of a cemetery, she faced the Highlander. Headstones, statues, and crosses stood as silent sentinels to those resting in the hallowed soil.

“Why have you brought me here?” she asked; the place gave her the willies.

Jordan didn’t like being out late at night in such a creepy place; so chill was the air, their breath was visible as vaporous puffs. Looking around, she shuddered; the grave markers glowed eerily in the moon’s light-- bleached bones in the light of the midnight sun. Edging closer to Duncan, she looked at him expectantly. Standing at the wall of the mausoleum, they gazed at one plaque in particular.

Jordan Milagros Waters
Born: June 19, 1924
Died: July 3, 1945

Beloved Daughter
Gone To A Better Life


* * How strange. * * Jordan thought, as she stared at the plaque. Her fingers traced the raised bronzed letters.

“Who’s ashes are in there?” she wondered aloud.

“Someone who would’ve ended up in a university lab or buried in an unmarked grave. It doesn’t matter.” The Highlander said quietly as he watched Jordan’s reaction.

“I never even got to say ‘good-bye’, Duncan. I should’ve told them I loved them while I could. Now they’ll never know!” Jordan wailed.

Tears welled up in her eyes; a glistening drop of moisture escaped and slowly trailed its way down her cheek. Tenderly, Duncan wiped it away with his thumb, only to see it replaced by another, and followed by another as Jordan cried her grief and pain. The Highlander sighed and pulled her close; Jordan’s arms went around him, clutching him tight as she sobbed. Resting his chin atop her head, Duncan gave Jordan a reassuring hug when she finally stilled and composed herself.

“Will it get easier?” she asked, sniffling.

“Maybe. Maybe not; time will tell.” He replied.

Reaching into his overcoat, the Clansman pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it into Jordan’s hand. His dark eyes studied the rest of the plaques neatly centered on the compartments. Jordan dried her tear-stained face before she blew her nose noisily. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and looked up at her Teacher, giving him a watery, tremulous smile.

“I needed that.” Jordan said as she drew in a shaky breath.

“Better?” he asked as she took another deep breath. Jordan nodded before her eyes took on a sudden, panicked look.

“I’m all alone, now, Duncan . . ! ” the unpleasant reality Jordan held at bay since her death struck her with all its awful truth.

“I have no one!” Jordan felt her loss anew, and she burst into tears again, the wrenching sobs that came from his student tore at the landlander’s heart. He couldn’t blame her for taking it so hard.

“Jordie, Jordie --- you have me. As long as I live, I’ll be there for you. No matter what.” The Highlander promised as he stroked her back.

“Really?” she asked in a tiny voice.

“Really.” Duncan reassured her.

“Promise?” leaning back in his arms, Jordan searched his dark eyes.

“I promise.” The Highlander replied before leaning his forehead against hers.

“Duncan?”

“Yes?”

“If . . . if I were to lose my head, will you --”

“Yes.” He said firmly, looking her in the eyes. Somehow Duncan always knew how to make her feel better. Jordan needed to know she still mattered to someone – to know that somewhere out there, someone still cared about her. The Scotsman gave his student another hug before releasing her.

“From the ashes of your old life, a new one begins. You’re one of us now; if you want to stay alive, you must learn to take care of yourself. This is Holy Ground.” His face solemn, Duncan spread his arms wide, the gesture encompassing the nearby church and burial plots. Duncan’s hushed voice could’ve been a shout, for the night was cold and still; his words echoed hollowly in the cavernous building.

“’Holy Ground’?” Jordan repeated.

“Any place held sacred by any religion is considered Holy Ground and off limits to a Challenge.”

“Is that carved in stone?” She said, smirking at the play on words. Duncan gave her a hard look.

“Be serious! This is the only place you’ll ever be safe. Your only refuge.” The Highlander snapped at her, his voice low. Duncan had never taken that tone of voice with her. Mortified, Jordan nodded, her head bowed.

“Why is my only safety in Holy Ground?” She asked meekly.

“Because it’s tradition, and the Code, or Rules of the Game, forbids it. Even the worst of us will not violate this rule.” : : : :


#


Coming back to herself, Jordan blinked and the memory faded; she remembered that night vividly. A wistful smile appeared on her face.

“Let’s see how far the rabbit hole goes.” She said.

Jordan resumed walking, stopping only when the trees grew so close together, they appeared impassable. Eyes closed, she stood unmoving, concentrating . . . stretching her senseshe Bhe Buzz was barely perceptible. Satisfied, the Immortal looked about in wonder at the natural beauty surrounding her; the hushed, tranquil atmosphere acted a balm, soothing her troubled spirit. With each breath, the earthy scent of the forest filled her nostrils, the trees were glorious --dark green leaves filtered the sunlight, dappling the forest floor with an ever changing pattern of light and shadow, giving the area an otherworldly feel.

Strong branches stretched high above, as if reaching for the sun. On a whim, she decided to climb one. With a running start, Jordan jumped up and caught the lowest branch she could reach. Swinging, she hooked a leg over the branch and pulled herself up. Grasping the bough above her, she climbed higher and higher, until the branches could not longer safely support her weight. Comfortably ensconced in a sturdy forked limb, her back against the tree’s trunk, she looked down at the forest floor far below; the highest trees she climbed in her childhood were half the height of the tree she was resting in. Jordan realized with a start she thought of Duncan and home less frequently--even more disquieting, was the fact that Rivendell felt like home.

Knowing she shouldn’t be so high up, especially if she needed to descend in a hurry, Jordan stubbornly remained where she was.

** I don’t care if I fall out. I’ll heal. ** Jordan thought with a cavalier attitude.

** Unless I break my neck. Who’ll set it straight until I revive? ** It was a sobering thought.

Promising herself she’d return before darkness fell, the Immortal fished out a pear from her satchel, eating it slowly as she thought about Duncan and home , for the two were one and the same.

** Where are you, Highlander? Are you looking for me, do you even know how—is it even within your abilities to find me? **

Jordan’s thoughts turned to the comforts of home. Her mouth watered as she remembered the juicy burgers and ice cream sundaes served 24 hours at her favorite diner. She could almost hear the beef patties sizzle; almost smell the fragrance of mushrooms and onions grilling. Elven food was delicious—in it’s own way, but she missed junk food all the same. With a sigh, she watched the dust motes dance in the air thru half lidded eyes.

Enjoying the solitude, she continued to think of home; her thoughts turned to her co-workers, wondering if she’d still have a job when she returned. A frown creased her brow as she tried to remember if she sent her car payment in the mail before her . . . arrival. Jordan didn’t have time to think about it as the Buzz alerted her to someone’s arrival. Sitting up, the Immortal imagined herself as an eagle on her nest as she leaned far over the branch. Watching the forest floor below for movement, she wondered who would appear.

“'Quel amrun. Mani naa lle umien? (Good morning. What are you doing?)”

Surprised and shocked to hear Legolas’ voice above her, Jordan whipped around, slipping from her perch in the process. With an unladylike curse, she began to plummet, and would’ve crashed thru every branch on her way down—had not Legolas immediately leaped down from his bough above and reached for her. Effortlessly hauling Jordan up by the front of her tunic, he pulled her onto the limb where he stood and held her tight. The Immortal clung to him, trembling, her heart beating a mile a minute. One horrible second she was suspended in the air—anticipating a painful fall—the next she was safe in Legolas’ arms. Talk about going from one extreme to the other.

“Amin hiraetha, lirimaer ( I'm sorry, lovely one)” he murmured, stroking her back soothingly.

“H-h-huh?” Shaken, she couldn’t quite speak.

“I did not mean to startle you. Forgive me.” Legolas said, glad for the excuse to hold her close.

“Don’t you ever do that again!” Jordan exclaimed hotly.

Recovering her composure, the Immortal released her hold on the Elf and leaned back in his arms as she glared at him. Legolas smiled; she was even prettier when angry, for her eyes flashed and spat green fire. Incensed, Jordan punched him hard in the shoulder. He didn’t even flinch. Instead, the Elf released her. Eyes wide open, Jordan fell back— and into his arms. Infuriated, she struggled in earnest, not caring if he really did let her fall this time. Her efforts were futile; he was much too strong for her. Jordan opened her mouth to curse at him, and Legolas covered it with his. Livid, she at first resisted his kiss, squirming like an eel in his arms.

No matter which way she turned, he followed. Despite her best intentions, Jordan’s anger melted under the Elf’s tender onslaught.

** It’s just a kiss . . . what harm could it do? ** the Immortal thought.

Legolas’ tongue lightly traced her lips. Nipping her bottom lip, the Elf gently suckled it before his tongue slipped into her mouth when her lips parted, welcoming him; Jordan’s arms pulled him closer. Legolas tasted the pear she had eaten earlier as he tenderly plundered her mouth, one hand was buried in her dark hair, the other roamed across her back, caressing her waist, before sliding down to her bottom, alternately cupping and gently squeezing her buttocks. Jordan sighed into his mouth, as she leaned into him.

His arousal was obvious; the woman in her felt empowered—this magnificent Elf found her desirable! Feeling naughty, she pressed her hips closer, her body molding to his.

As they continued to kiss high up in the tree, an insistent voice in her mind clamored for her to keep her distance. Ignoring it, Jordan lost herself in the Elf, reveling in his strength, savoring the taste of his kiss, and the sheer bliss of being in his arms.

Legolas felt dreadful for literally startling her out of the tree--the thought of her coming to harm caused his heart to tighten, the fear as real as if he were the one in danger. Though she was never in any real danger, once he had caught her and she safe within his arms, he couldn’t resist teasing her—her eyes sparkled most becomingly when happy or angry. He kissed her thoroughly once more before nuzzling her neck. Jordan struggled to compose herself; it took everything she had to not jump on Legolas and smother him with kisses.

“Forgive me, Arwenamin (my lady). I will never let you come to harm.” Remembering the reason for her anger, her eyes narrowed; without warning, Jordan pulled his ear.

“Tanya awra! (That hurt!)” Legolas rubbed his ear, looking at her accusingly.

Instantly she regretted her childish act. Capturing his face between her hands, he resisted for a moment.

“Its my turn to ask your forgiveness.” She murmured.

Pulling his head down, Jordan kissed his lips and traced his cheek with her lips. She kissed her way to his injured ear, nuzzling it with the tip of her nose. Slowly, she traced the contours of his ear with her tongue, lingering over the pointy tip, smiling at his sharp intake of breath as his arms tightened around her.

**Aha! ** her mind stored away that bit of useful information.

Covering his ear with tiny kisses, Jordan licked the sensitive point, gently nibbling his earlobe, kissing it again before she released him. Legolas’ cerulean blue eyes were dilated, the desire in his face made Jordan’s eyes widen. They stared at each other for several seconds before Legolas pulled her closer, resting his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes, wondering how this woman whom he barely knew cast a spell on him. Enchantress.

“I forgive you, Melamin.” He murmured, his voice hoarse. Jordan smiled, laughing softly as he hugged her tight, glad he was there with her.

“Are you planning to sleep here tonight, Jordan?” he inquired.

* * Only if you join me. * * she thought.

“No.” the Immortal replied. She was still thinking about his kiss.

“Khila amin (follow me).”

* * Gladly. * * she thought.

Legolas lead the way down, the bow and quiver strapped to his back didn’t impede his progress; looking down, Jordan saw two white handled weapons secured to his back. Wondering what they were, she didn’t ask, intent on trying to not step on his hands—again. Descending was far trickier and more difficult than ascending; Legolas waited for her, placing her feet on footholds when she would’ve slipped, steadying her when she faltered, encouraging her when she encountered splinters. Thirty feet above the ground, Legolas stood on a branch. Without pause, he stepped off, and landed on his feet as if he were only two inches above the ground. Looking up into the tree where Jordan stood clutching a branch, he held his arms open wide.

“Jump—I will catch you.” He called to her. Jordan looked at the Elf as if he lost his mind.

“Yeah, right! You don’t ask for much, do you?” she called down to him disbelievingly.

Lifting her onto a horse was one thing, but to drop her full weight on him at that height—not to mention the force of gravity and the momentum that would accompany her—seemed ludicrous at best, if not downright impossible.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Legolas. I’ll climb down.” She called down to him. As if reading her mind, he replied,

“I will not let you come to harm, nor will you hurt me.”

“Legolas, I’m at least twenty feet above you.” She reasoned.

“Thirty.” He correct.

“Are you crazy?!” Jordan exclaimed; looking down, she could see another branch directly below her. If she was careful, she could probably reach it . . .

“Jordan, please. Trust me. It will be dark soon, and there are other things in the forest beside us.” He said. The Elf knew full well there was nothing in Imladris that would harm them; Legolas decided to keep that bit of information to himself. Besides, he was quite capable of defending and protecting her, should the need arise.

“What kind of things?” Jordan asked, uneasy.

“Things with teeth.” He replied. It wasn’t a total lie, for the squirrels, foxes and other small creatures did indeed have teeth.

“Big teeth?” she asked worriedly.

“Do you really want to discover that for yourself?” Legolas asked, his tone ominous.

The woman in the trees looked down at him, undecided. Legolas waited patiently, knowing he was asking much from her. Catching the satchel she dropped to him, the Elf set it on the ground, taking it as a good sign. The longer he spent with her, the more Legolas hoped she would come to trust him—in more ways than one.

Jordan didn’t relish the thought of climbing down the rest of the way, especially after plucking several large splinters from her palms during their descent. Given the alternative, she decided having a devastatingly sexy Elf as a landing cushion wasn’t a bad thing. If he missed, he’d have to carry her all the way back—which didn’t seem like such an awful idea, either . . . unless, if he got hurt, she’d have to carry him back to Rivendell. Thirty feet seemed like such a long way down . . . Jordan remained where she was, worrying her lower lip. A thousand reasons to not jump flitted thru her mind.

* This is crazy! Do it Jordan—just do it. * she thought, psyching herself up.

Closing her eyes, Jordan hoped for the best; she stepped off the branch, ending her internal debate. With an involuntary cry, the Immortal plunged towards the ground; the terrifying feeling of weightlessness sent her stomach churning. Suddenly, the sensation ceased. Cautiously peeking thru her lashes, Legolas’ impossibly blue eyes peered at her, a big grin on his gorgeous face. He remained upright. Nor did it seem as if his back hurt.

“You must have eaten well for lunch.” He commented.

“I did. I had a whole pot of stew, three loaves of bread, five glasses of ale, and a wheel of cheese. And a pear.” Jordan said tartly.

“Yes, I can feel it. You must have been famished, for I do not see the pot and glasses. Did you eat them as well?” Legolas inquired, pretending to stagger beneath her weight.

The Immortal threw her head back and laughed with relief and delight. She liked that the Elf had a sense of fun and humor; unfortunately for her, it added to his already great appeal. Jordan still could not quite believe he caught her, yet there she was in his arms; the still forest rang with the sound of her giddy laughter. Despite her determination to keep him at arm’s length, her heart was treacherous. Legolas was amazing, and to her eyes, she was beginning to see him as larger than life.

Legolas playfully tossed her in the air as if she weighed no more than a child, catching her easily before he spun her around. Jordan threw her arms around his neck, hugging him close while the forest whirled into a green blur; the only thing in focus was Legolas, and that suited her fine. Her decision to jump was symbolic of everything about this…adventure: trust in the Elf, willingness to suspend her disbelief and live for the moment. But that small voice in the back of her mind reminded her she didn’t belong here.

* * Just for today. * * she begged herself.

* * Then I promise I’ll behave. * *

Setting her gently on her feet, Legolas held her hand, leading her forward. Unresisting, Jordan followed as Legolas led her deeper into the forest. He showed her deeply shadowed hollows and hidden waterfalls, laughing when she vigorously declined his invitation to explore the dark caves. As they explored, Legolas taught her a bit of the Elvish language, which Jordan dutifully parroted back. During their hike, Legolas pointed out various plants noted for their healing properties; one in particular, Athelas—or Kingsfoil, seemed to be the middle-earth equivalent to a ‘cure all’, at least for many ailments.

Jordan marveled at the variety of flowers; among them were anemones, and other unfamiliar blooms growing rampant, carpeting the forest floor in living, vivid color. She breathed deeply, inhaling the sweet fragrance rising from the flowers. Legolas’ head cocked to the side, listening. Leaving her to enjoy the flowers, he silently walked towards a tree partly obscured by thick underbrush; a small, well-worn path was hidden by the growth. Gesturing for her to come, Legolas whispered loud enough for her to hear:

“Dina (be silent)” Legolas said as he placed a finger to his lips.

Holding a branch aside for her, he pulled her closer to him. Jordan swallowed, assuming he was going to kiss her. She braced herself to resist when he inclined his head, indicating she should look. Puzzled and slightly miffed, she did. Less than five feet away stood a doe with her twin fawns, their light brown coats dotted with white. Nervous, the doe’s ears twitched, her black nose testing the air.

Jordan didn’t move, transfixed by the sight before her. The doe was much largern whn what she expected, the fawns tiny in comparison. Frolicking at their mother’s hooves, they paused, sensing their presence; one fawn wobbled towards them—it stopped two feet away, curious. Jordan was convinced if she reached out, she could touch it, when, as if responding to a silent command, the little one returned to it’s mother’s side, re-joining it’s twin. The doe looked at them, ears twitching, before silently leading her pair deeper into the forest. Jordan watched them leave, still in awe.

Looking up to see the Elf scrutinizing her closely, she was intensely aware of their close proximity. Legolas’ eyes were so clear, so blue; she could stare at him forever. As his face neared, her lips parted, anticipating another kiss, when the insistent voice in her mind warned her to be careful, to keep her distance, for she was in Rivendell only until Duncan came for her. It whispered in her ear to heed the warning that came to her in a dream. Reluctantly, Jordan remembered. The Immortal sneezed and stepped away from the Elf. The moment was gone. Ruined. Legolas followed, a frown marring his smooth face.

“Mani naa ta?(What is it?)”

“Oh, umm--just my allergies. I think we’d better go back.” She lied, keeping her eyes averted as she walked away.

“Al—allur…?” he stumbled over the unfamiliar word.

“’Allergy.’ An allergen is something that makes you sneeze. ‘Allergies’ for plural.” Jordan rubbed her nose and sniffed several times for good measure.

Legolas was mystified; the untruth was as plain as if she had shouted it. Slightly hurt that she rebuffed his kiss, he reached for her hand.

** Oh, Legolas, you’re not making this easy for me . . . ** her heart whispered.

Jordan’s resolve was rapidly fading. The Immortal knew she was sending mixed signals, but she couldn’t help herself. There were too many conflicting emotions she was feeling when the Elf was near; both her sane, rational head and her feeling, emotional heart dictated her actions, resulting in one very confused Immortal. At this precise moment, her heart won; deciding it best to wean herself from him slowly—rather than cold turkey, Jordan’s fingers curled around his. They hadn’t gone far when the Elf stopped. Jordan looked at him questioningly.

“Rivendell is that way.” Legolas smiled at her, indicating the opposite direction a n a nod over his shoulder. Cheeks flaming, Jordan grinned back.

“I knew that!” Laughing together, Legolas pulled her in the right direction. The shadow of her rejection vanished as they shared the joke, his good humor returning.

“You do not fear high places. What were you doing?”

“I was thinking about home.” Jordan replied.

Legolas’ lighthearted mood deserted him. Home. Why did the simple word unsettle him so, the Elf wondered; he was at a loss to explain. The Mirkwood Prince gently released her hand. Jordan immediately felt the change in his mood. Trying not to let her see how his words affected him, Legolas kept his eyes forward as they walked.

“You would return.” He said flatly.

“Legolas…this isn’t my home; I don’t belong here—wouldn’t you want to go home if you were me?” Her words brought the Elf to a halt; turning his bright gaze down at her, in his eyes was an unfathomable expression.

“Were I to have ample reason, I would choose to stay.” The underlying meaning in his words was unmistakable.

Did she have a reason to stay? She had another life waiting for her. If she could only get back to it, that is. Her life. Her job . . . Duncan. Unsure how to respond, Jordan looked down, studying her boots as if they held the answers to her dilemma. Looking up at the Elf, she chose her words carefully before speaking, her voice soft, filled with regret.

“If I had a choice--”

you you not? You say you wish to return, yet after your attempt, you still remain.” his blue eyes held her in place. A brief look of confusion crossed her face before understanding dawned. Apparently he witnessed her attempts to find her way back; a smile quirked her lips.

“Oh . . . you saw that. Yeah, well, I ‘m still here—but for how long, Legolas? My being here is a temporary fluke; when I return, all of this may seem like nothing more than a dream.” She said, indicating the forest with her arms spread wide.

“You may not even remember me.” Jordan said.

Legolas watched her, his fair face unreadable. The Elf couldn’t argue with the logic behind her statement. A creature of magic himself, he knew magic of unparalleled strength would have been the only way possible to bring her to Middle Earth. If she hadn’t appeared the way she did, he might dismiss her as merely delusional; yet everything about her witnessed the truth that she was indeed not of this world. Legolas had no answer for her; instead, he walked away. Sadly, Jordan watched his retreating figure, convinced she would do them both a favor by keeping her distance.

“You may be nothing more than a dream…a wonderful, impossible dream.” She whispered in a dejected undertone to herself. Legolas paused in mid-stride.

Looking over his shoulder, he cast her a sidelong glance, waiting for her. Jordan schooled her features into a neutral expression before she caught up with him; they walked in silence, not touching. Trying to lighten the mood, she plied him with questions about Mirkwood; Legolas offered nothing more beyond the answer to her questions. Feeling wretched, Jordan fell silent. After a while they emerged from the tree line, the glade before them, and beyond it, her quarters visible in the distance. With a sigh, Jordan turned to thank Legolas for his company, only to see he was gone.

>>>>========>
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Confident Jordan could safely find her way back to her quarters from the glade, Legolas took to the trees, moving swiftly and silently as only Elf-kind are able. He struggled to understand and control the unfamiliar emotions roiling within him; it terrified and upset him to discover just how strongly he felt about her, and it scared Legolas even more to realize how desperately he wanted her to stay.