She

KT Welsh’s disclaimer: ‘Lord of the Rings’ belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, not me. I will not nor do I intend to make any profit from this story.

Yes, it’s a Legolas/OFC romance; stop now if these don’t appeal to you and you can’t complain that you weren’t warned. I wrote this years ago (to give you a clue about how long we're talking, it was removed from ff.net when the NC17 ban was brought in). It’s still not the worst thing I’ve written despite the slightly Mary-Sueish concept, in fact I was once very proud of this story. I've refreshed the chapters as of 18/10/08, because for some reason they weren't displaying correctly. However everything else is unchanged.


One: Nameless


I wait impatiently for her; she is late today. Not for the first time, I realise the problem with our arrangement - she could easily vanish from my life as quickly and as comprehensively as she arrived.

After all, I do not even know her name.

Then my eye is caught by a flash of green; an elf rushing through the trees. To meet me. She is here, and her sudden presence as always forces every thought of any consequence from my head. She smiles as she sees me waiting, and without stopping runs straight into my arms.

Our kiss is as urgent as always; my lips impatiently seek out hers as she clings to me, arms wrapped around me so tightly it is almost impossible for me to breathe, her hips grinding against mine relentlessly. I am aware only of my own growing need for her as my tongue plunges into her mouth again and again. Then her tongue moves to meet mine and begins to stroke it softly, forcing me to gentle the kiss, and this unexpected change of pace only makes me want her more. We stand together for an age sharing endlessly scorching kisses, aware of nothing but our own desires.

“Come on,” she gasps against my mouth at last, and we reluctantly break apart. My hand finds hers at once; I cannot bear not holding her even for a single moment. Our time together is so short, too short, and every second counts.

She leads me to the small clearing in the trees I’ve come to think of as ours. It’s surrounded by trees so dense only someone deliberately looking for it would find it - the complete shelter it provides gives us the freedom to do whatever we want. And we do.

Within minutes, we’ve both shed our clothes. When I’m alone, I often fantasise about how it would be if we had all the time in the world to enjoy each other; I imagine myself slowly stripping her clothes from her body, my eyes devouring her for an eternity before I begin to slowly caress every inch of her smooth skin and allow my mouth to taste her. But that cannot be. These fleeting moments are all we have right now, and we must make the most of every one.

I do not even know her name.

Lowering her gently to the ground, I slide my hand slowly up her leg. I stroke her firm thigh and then graze her hip with my fingers. Then I move across her stomach and beyond. As I glide over the soft contours of her body, I purposefully avoid those most sensitive spots, tempting her but not allowing more, not yet. She flinches at the delightful contact, and starts to tease me in return; as her eyes lock with mine, she licks her lips, and then brings them to my neck. I shudder as she begins to lick, and suck, and bite, and kiss her way down my body, working her way slowly southwards until she is at the essence of my being. She wraps her long fingers around me, and strokes the sensitive tip with her thumb, smiling to see a drop of moisture already beginning to form.

“Careful!” she laughs quietly, and I sigh and smile at her, all I am capable of. After planting some soft, wet kisses on my shaft, making me squirm with longing, she takes me fully into her mouth, and suddenly the universe shrinks around me until it comprises only us, and the knowledge of what she is doing to me. I groan as she swirls her tongue around the head, creating sensations so pleasurable they are almost painful, and my fingers become entangled in her hair as I silently beg for more.

We met here, in this very forest. I was walking in one direction, she the other, both of us staring up at the treetops rather than watching the road. Inevitably, we collided, and as our eyes met I lost my heart and gained hers in return. Even on that first day, we did not speak. Words are not necessary between us, for we can read each others thoughts with a single glance, so intertwined are our souls. She simply took my hand and brought me to this place where all my dreams have been fulfilled.

I do not even know her name.

I force myself to still her mouth, and bring her back up for another searing kiss. I am already in danger of losing control, but I must satisfy her fully before I can let myself go. I owe her that much. Right now, physical pleasure is all that I am able to give her. Her eyes flutter closed and she emits a soft moan as I start to caress the gentle swell of her breasts, playfully at first but with enough intent to cause the rosy peaks, so stark against the creaminess of her skin, to tighten in response. Then I turn my attention to them in earnest, tweaking and flicking her nipples with my tongue as my hand trails softly across the pale expanse, gently tickling.

She must know who I am; she must. I am Thranduil’s son, and everyone in Mirkwood is aware of my identity. She has an advantage - all I know about her is that which I am able to divulge through a lingering look. She is not from a noble family: her outfits are old and faded, indicating a lack of wealth, and she does not have the polished manners or cool detachment common in high-born maidens. If he knew of her, my father would not approve; she is clearly not suitable for the son of a King. I do not care; if anything I desire her all the more because of that. Hot blood flows unchecked through her veins; her body responds passionately to my every touch.

I do not even know her name.

I slip my hand down, leaving it to linger for a moment on her stomach, before finally cupping the soft mound between her legs, my skin rough against the silken lips. She moans again, more loudly this time, and I smile. I gently part the drenched folds with my finger, and seek out the already swollen bud. As I trace small circles across the tip, she twists her body and tries to evade my touch, but I use my other hand to hold her firmly in place, and then move to replace my finger with my tongue, kissing and licking a gentle trail down from her breast. With a sigh of surrender, she gives herself fully over to me, surrendering any element of control she still possessed. She writhes beneath me as I increase the pressure, lapping insistently at her very core, and then clutches at me as she reaches a white-hot peak, and shatters into a million tiny pieces. I quickly drown her cries of ecstasy with my mouth, and she slides her tongue between my lips, tasting herself. I position myself over her, hovering ready at her entrance.

“Now?” I say quietly, asking for permission.

“Now,” she agrees and suddenly reaches up to pull me down to her. I slide perfectly into place, and gasp as I feel her velvet walls close around me, trapping me within this exquisite prison. She arches her body up to meet my thrusts, her need for a final release as urgent as my own. My body is on fire, every nerve end tingling, my ability to hold back stretched to breaking point. She cries out again, her moans this time mingling with my own, and as we climax together, exhausted but triumphant, the world around us exploding in a riot of colour and noise, all I can think of is the words that are stuck in my throat; words I may never be able to say to her. I love you.

I never expected to meet someone who would fill my thoughts as she has: before she landed in my life I was content to remain heart-whole for all my days, there was so much else I wanted to do. But then I met her, and suddenly nothing that had gone before mattered. The brief moments I spend with her in my arms are the only reason for my existence.

I do not even know her name.

Afterwards, we dress quickly, the shared joy over for yet another day. Still we say nothing, until she turns to me and, raising herself on tiptoe, gently kisses me on the lips. It is for the first time today a kiss devoid of passion, because we both know if we embrace again in the way we want to, we will never let each other go.

“See you tomorrow,” she says softly, and it is not a question but a statement. She knows I will be here; I am addicted to her.

“Tomorrow,” I echo, and we smile at each other.

And then she is gone, as quickly as she arrived. I wait for a moment, but she does not return. She never does; but still I hope. Maybe one day, she won’t leave my arms, and we can love each other again.

Maybe one day, I’ll tell her how much these stolen moments together mean to me; how much she means to me, and ask her to be mine for all eternity.

Maybe one day, I’ll wait, and she won’t come to me; because she has tired of me, or met someone far more worthy of her love, or worse. How will I ever know?

Maybe one day, I will know her name.