This work in progress is part of a prequel to my other story, Return to Me.  In this excerpt, it is approximately 138 Third Age, when Legolas is 47 years old and Sorayaiel 43.   Both are novice warriors rapidly approaching adulthood.   So in human years they are about 17.

I thought the few of you who read my stuff might like a little preview of what is to come.   There are a couple of references to events and names that you probably won’t understand, but might be able to guess.   It will be more clear once the entire story is up.   Expect much romance drivel in the following excerpt, however.  

In the Garden

I soon found that sleep was impossible.   I kept thinking about what had happened during archery practice that afternoon.   Had I imagined the whole thing?   Had Legolas really tried to kiss me?   Maybe it had been a dream.   Perhaps I had dreamt the feel of his hands upon my hips, the tension of that musk smell of him as I had realized just how close his firm body had been to mine.   Perhaps I had imagined how dark his pale-blue eyes had become, intent on my own as he had leaned in closer, closer…

I sat up in bed, shaking the thought from my brain.   Only it would not go.   I tried to think of something, anything, to dispel it from my head, but it would not leave.   Suddenly I found myself thinking of the garden.   I could literally see the pine trees and Nana’s beloved flowers swaying in the night breeze under the stars.   Why was I thinking of this?   It was odd that such a random image would pop into my head.   I imagined myself walking along the path, reaching out a hand to touch a silky daffodil.   I could really feel the flower on my fingertips—what was happening?

Then I realized—these were not my thoughts.

No , I thought.   This cannot be happening .   I would not believe it.

Unbidden, a voice echoed inside my head: But it is.

I nearly fell out of the bed.  “Legolas?” I whispered.

I felt a surge of something that felt like joy and tumbled the rest of the way out of the bed, whimpering involuntarily.   It was he.   He was down in the garden, under the stars, trying to communicate with me via our thoughts.   And he had succeeded, somewhat.   I suspected that hearing his voice had been a complete accident, the result of his trying so hard to get my attention.   I knew that Nana and Ada could hold complete conversations in their heads, the result of knowing each other so fully for so many years.   Legolas and I were far too young for anything so complex as that.  

Surely I was hallucinating.   Surely .   Yes, Legolas and I had had this special connection throughout most of our lives, but it had always been relegated to random images and occasional feelings.   Sometimes I knew if he was feeling sad or angry even if he did not show it.   He always seemed to know where I was, even when I did not want to be found.   Occasionally we could finish one another’s sentences.   But not this, never anything like this.   It could only mean one thing.

My face was in my hands as I sat on the floor, thoughts of the garden coming unbidden to me once again.   He wanted me to go there, right now.   I was afraid; nay, petrified.

But I slipped a robe on over my night-gown and crept out of the palace, taking care to avoid the guards as Mellossë and Arahil had showed me so many times in all our years of sneaking out at night.   The night air was cool; the breeze ruffled my unfettered hair around my face. My stomach was in knots.   My fear heightened when I realized that it was not just my own nervousness I was feeling, but Legolas’ also.

I found him sitting on a stone bench, peering up at the stars.   “Eärendil is in rare form tonight,” he said softly.  He was dressed in a simple night tunic and trousers.   His hair was pulled back out of his face, almost white in the moonlight.   My knees felt weak.

He turned to look at me, and for a fleeting moment I saw myself through his eyes: saw the anxiety in my own face, saw the moon creating glints of silver in my dark hair.  

He was up and catching me in a flash, before my legs gave out.   It was too much, too fast.   He sat me on the bench, not removing his strong hands from my waist.   I found myself not wanting him to.

We were staring at each other, uncertain.   It was a struggle, though eventually I found my voice.   “Why is this happening?” I whispered, feeling tears catch in my throat.   I could not stop staring at his face, his eyes.   “I am so confused.”

“You know why it is happening,” he said, very softly.   He hesitated, looking away for just a flicker before capturing my eyes with his again.   “It is happening because I love you.   And because you love me.”

There, he had spelled it out.   The truth that we had denied for so long, maybe our whole lives.   The truth that I could not admit, not even now, for it simply could not happen .

“Well of course I love you,” I began.   “But—“

“Do not give me that!” he whispered severely, angrily.   He shook me, his hands digging into my sides painfully.   “You cannot sit there and tell me that you think of me only as a brother; nay, I do not think you have ever thought of me that way.   Do not deny it; I have seen it in your face, in your eyes and the way you look at me.   I have seen it in your thoughts.”

I said nothing, merely blinked back tears.

“You thought that I did not notice, that I could not see,” the words continued to pour out of him, every one of them the truth.   “You thought I was blind to the fact that you are in love with me.”

“I—“

“Shh,” he placed a slender finger over my lips.   He began to whisper even more softly than before.   “But I was not blind.   I saw.   I saw and I knew .   I knew because I felt the same; I feel the same.”

He finally looked away, swallowing hard.   “I tried to deny it, just as you have.   I tried to make it go away.   I even tried to make myself have feelings for Arwen—“

I closed my eyes.   I knew what he was talking about, for I had done the same thing.   I had tried to forget these feelings for him, to forget the longing that swelled in my breast every time I saw his face.   I had tried to focus my attentions elsewhere, even briefly on Elladan, but I could not.   I could not deny in my heart that I loved him.   I loved my foster-brother Legolas as a wife loves her husband: with all of my heart and my soul, with every thought and fiber of my being.   I loved him fiercely, utterly, madly.  

I loved him so much it hurt; it hurt to look upon that beauteous face.   But this is what I forced myself to do.  I forced myself to ignore the dull ache in my chest and opened my eyes to stare again into those pale orbs.   I forced myself to look at him, but I also forced myself to try and think rationally.

“Legolas,” I breathed.   Just the sound of his name was like music upon my lips.   “We cannot do this.”

For a moment he did not answer.   “We cannot not do this.”

“Think of our family,” I said, though it killed me inside to do so.   “Think of Nana and Ada.   It would be unacceptable.”

I was thinking of Elladan’s statement a few years previous.   He had been trying to rile Legolas up, being sarcastic and condescending, and he had completely succeeded.   “ Why are you being so overprotective, Leggy?   Do you think you are going to marry Sorayaiel?   You had better get out of that mind frame quickly.   She is your sister .   What would your parents think?”

“Elladan is an idiot,” Legolas said harshly.   “They will understand.”

“We cannot ,” I said, as tears streaked down my cheeks.   “Even though we do not feel that way, you are my brother—“

“Your thoughts are in my head, Sorayaiel!” he exclaimed, angry again.   “I know what you are going to say before it even reaches your mouth.   I know when you are happy; I know when you are nervous, when you are angry or frightened.   I know what you dream at night.   You dream of me.   I know your mind.   You know what that means.”

I said nothing.  

He cupped my face in his hands, not letting me look away.   “It means that we are meant to be together.   We cannot pick and chose who we wish to fall in love with, as much as we might want to.   But I do not want to be in love with anyone but you, Celebithil.”

“Silver-moon.”   He had never called me that before.

“I just thought of it,” he said, knowing my mind yet again.   “The moonlight is so lovely in your hair it almost pains me to look at you.”

He smiled as I blushed.   “I am serious,” he said.   “You are the most perfect thing I have ever seen, meleth nîn .   I could spend the rest of my days feeding upon your face, drinking in the pools of your eyes.   I could starve to death and die of thirst and do it with a smile on my face, as long as I could look at you.”  

I did not know what to say to that.   I wanted to tell him that I felt the same, that my heart ached at the sight of him.   I wanted to tell him that I dreamt every night of being in his arms, that I could not eat or sleep or think or move without him.   I wanted to tell him how desperately I had wanted to see the look in his eyes that I was seeing now.   I could not say a word.

He smiled again.   “I know,” he said so softly that I almost did not hear him.   “I know.”

For a moment there was silence.   We just stared at each other until he abruptly looked away, tears filling his eyes.   “Please do not deny me, Sorayaiel.   If you do not love me I will die.   I will sail—I cannot stay here if you do not want me.”

“Oh Legolas,” I managed to choke out.   I took him in my arms, feeling him trembling against me, and not only with fear.   “I love you.    Do not do this.”

“I cannot help it!” he cried.   “I have wanted to tell you this for thirty years!”

I had a flash, a thought of him all those years ago when he had hugged me for the first time.   We had been very small elflings but even then I had felt a strange kind of deep love emanating from him.   I thought about Arahil’s fortieth begetting ceremony, how at first Legolas had been too embarrassed to even hold my hand, but ended up winning an archery tournament later in the day and brazenly kissed me on the cheek right in front of the teasing Elladan and Elrohir.   I thought of us on the archery range earlier this day, that wonderful, horrible tension that had filled the air.   I thought about how very badly I had wanted him to kiss me, whilst all the time completely terrified that he actually would .  

“Oh I wanted to so very much,” he said, a small chuckle escaping his lips.   He raised one hand to wipe away the tears that had fallen down his cheeks.   “If Barandol had not arrived, I do not think I could have stopped myself.”

“And I-I do not think I would have stopped you,” I found myself admitting.

He ran his shaking fingers along the tips of my ears.   “Would-would you stop me now?” he asked, his voice hesitant and husky at the same time.

I did not want to, but I had to answer truthfully, for he would know anyway.   “No.”

He hesitated briefly.   My arms were still around him—we were so close that I could feel his heartbeat quicken and his breath stop, even as my own did.   His eyes darkened midnight blue, as he leaned in, slowly, slowly, inclining his head to finally meet my lips with his own.

I closed my eyes, allowing myself to give in to him, all the while my mind screaming Stop!   Stop!   His mouth was soft, gentle.   I had never completely appreciated the fullness of his lips until now.   I felt myself falling into his mind, his heart, as I relished my own sensations and his also.   It was tenderness and love, but it was heat as well, multiplied by two.   It felt as if tiny explosions were going off inside my head.   It was wonderful.

Finally we had to pull apart, both of us gasping for air.   “I cannot tell you how long I have wanted you to do that,” I managed.  

“I already know,” he said, pointing to his temple.   “And believe me, you shall not have to wait for me to do it again.”  

He grasped me, kissing me so hard that it almost bruised my lips.   For a moment I was taken aback at his boldness, but then I threw my arms around his neck and returned it hungrily.   My fingers found his hair and intertwined, as we grew more insistent.   I could feel the heat rising between us again, that blissful desire we had denied for so long threatening to consume us both.   I parted my lips and felt his tongue seeking entrance, probing and tasting me relentlessly, until the pleasure was so great that I could not breathe, and I pushed him away, gasping again.

“I-I am sorry,” he said when he had recovered his breath.   There was a deep blush in his cheeks.

I felt it in mine too.   This was wonderful.   Insane, but wonderful.   I simply stared at him for a moment, wanting so badly for him to take me in his arms and carry me away somewhere, carry me to a place where we could be together forever without having to worry about Ada and Nana or anyone else.   Sitting there in his arms I could almost believe that everyone would be all right with this.   It was right; it felt so very true and whole.   I desperately wanted our family to accept this, but I was terrified that they would not.  

So, I did the only thing I knew to do.   This time I kissed him more tenderly, softly, long and deep.   After, I ran my finger down the curve of his chin and looked directly into his eyes.   “I love you, Legolas,” I said.  

And I bolted.

I jumped up from the stone bench and ran as fast as I could, through the garden and past the guards into the cave.   I did not hear him pursuing me, but I felt his mind and heart.   There was deep despair within, coupled with the anguish I was feeling myself.   Deep down we both knew it would never work, it could never happen.   But neither one of us wanted to accept it.

Oh that things had been different!   My mind screamed this at me as I ran toward my bedroom, tears streaming down my face.   If only my parents had lived, if only we had not grown up as brother and sister, perhaps we could have been together.   I could imagine the looks of concern on Nana Aranel and Ada Thranduil’s faces if we told them.   I could not help but feel they would be angry with us, and perhaps even send me away.   Ice filled my heart as this thought came to me.   Would they do that?   I was not their real daughter but they thought of me as such.   If I were to make my love for Legolas known, how would they react?   It was entirely possible that they would send me away somewhere, to Imladris or perhaps Lórien, to avoid the shame and embarrassment this was sure to cause them.  

I did not know what to do.   For now my plan was to make it back to my bedchamber and cry myself to sleep.   I would deal with everything else tomorrow.   This plan was intercepted as I made my way upstairs and saw a light under Arahil’s door.   Suddenly I needed to talk to my brother—I had to.

I knocked quietly.   After a moment he answered the door, in his nightclothes, his long dark hair unrestrained.   For a moment he looked puzzled, then concern overtook his features as he saw my tear-stained face and disheveled appearance.  

“Sorayaiel?   What is wrong?” he asked.  

“M-may I come inside?” I stammered.

“Of course,” he replied, stepping aside so I could walk through the door, which he closed behind me.   “What is the matter?”

For a moment I could not speak.   Then to Arahil’s astonishment, I burst into tears.   He wrapped his arms around me and held me as I sobbed.   “I am so confused,” I managed after a moment.

“Come, sit with me,” he said, and helped me to the bed.   We sat, as he waited patiently for my sobs to subside.   He brushed a tangled strand of hair out of my face and smiled at me.  

After I moment I gained control of myself.   “I need to tell you something, but you must promise not to say anything to anyone.”

He raised a brow.   “You can speak to me in confidence.   You know that, my sister.”

“I know,” I said, with a small smile.   I could trust my brother implicitly with anything, even this.  

I took a deep breath, trying to decide how I was going to say it.   Inside I could feel Legolas, hanging on my every word.   It made me nervous, and I tried to ignore him for fear I would begin to cry again.  

“This-this is difficult,” I said.   “My head and heart are greatly troubled and I know not what to do.”

“I will give you the best advice I can,” Arahil said, looking quite grave.   “Though from your appearance this is something very serious and upsetting.   I will do my best.”

“Thank you, I know you will,” I said.   I took another deep breath, and decided to come out with it.   “Arahil…”

He stared at me.

“It is Legolas,” I said, causing his brows to arch again.   “That is, he-I-we…we kissed.”  

His eyes widened and I wanted to melt into the floor.   He looked away for a moment, clearing his throat, then stared at me.   “You mean you just kissed, or do you mean you kissed ?” he asked.

“I mean we kissed as Nana and Ada kiss, not as you and I do,” I explained.   I looked away.   “And I want to do it again.”

A thoughtful finger touched his lips.   “How did this happen?”

I told him everything.   I told him the basics of what had happened in the garden that night, and about the archery range earlier.   I told him about our feelings, and how we had begun to see and feel and hear each other’s thoughts.

His eyes widened again.   “You mean you can…see what he is thinking?”

“It is more like I can feel him, like he is a part of me.   I can feel his emotions and I know what he is doing, but I only get flashes of his thoughts.   We cannot exactly communicate coherently yet.”

“No, that would not happen until you were bonded physically as well as emotionally, and even then it takes years of intimacy and understanding to reach the level that Nana and Ada have,” he said.   “It is part of your fëar.”

“Yes,” I said.   “But I feel him right now.   He can hear our conversation and knows exactly what we are saying.”

He just looked at me for a moment.   “Do you know what this means, Sorayaiel?”

“Yes,” I said, blinking as tears threatened to come again.   “I love him, Arahil.   I am in love with him, and he is in love with me.”  

He still looked very serious.   “When are you going to tell Naneth and Adar?”

I blinked again.   “We are not going to tell them.   We cannot.   What would they say?”

“I do not know,” he said.   “I admit that though we have all always noticed a special connection between you two, no one has ever voiced the opinion that this might happen, at least not to me.   And I am ashamed to admit that I did not notice the growing affection between you two.”

“We have taken great pains to hide it,” I said.  

“I am your brother, biologically as well as in name.   I should have noticed.” He looked away, sounding apologetic and very sad.

“Please do not do that,” I said.   “You did nothing wrong.   You have been there for me for more things than I can count.   Arahil, if you had not been here, I do not know if I would have survived the death of our parents.   It is definitely because of you that I am still here.   I love you, Arahil.”

“I love you too, Sorayaiel,” he said, hugging me.   “I wish I could give you some better advice, but honestly, I do not know what to say.   I do not know how Ada and Nana will react.   Perhaps we can initiate a fact-finding mission.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we will simply hint around.   We will not come right out and tell them what is going on, but we will bring up certain subjects and ideas and gauge their reactions.   You, Legolas, and me, I mean.   Perhaps Mellossë, if you think it wise.”

I thought about that for a moment.   What would Mellossë think?   I was not as close to him as to Arahil and Legolas, but I knew he loved me and we usually got along well.   However, he was a partner in crime to Elladan and Elrohir; he liked to tease and was sometimes sarcastic and occasionally not very nice.   He was also stubborn and set in a lot of his ideas like Ada was, and had Ada’s temper as well.   No, I had no idea how Mellossë would react.

Seeing the look on my face, Arahil said, “Or perhaps we can just include Mellossë with Nana and Adar.”  

I nodded.   This plan sounded like the best course of action.   “Thank you, Arahil.   You have made me feel a lot better.”

He shrugged.   “I try,” he said.   He grinned, and then turned serious again.   “I suspect you can guess, but I want you to know, sister, that I support you in this one hundred percent.   I know the Valar are definitely the cause of this, and it seems from what you have told me that you two are meant to be together.”

I smiled, but he was not done yet.   “I admit, I am stubborn in that I keep trying not to think of you in any other way than as my little sister, but here you are almost grown.   I cannot believe it.   I still think of you and Legolas both as those little elflings, not as the near-mature novice warriors you are becoming.   I admit I was nervous about you eventually meeting someone and falling in love, so truthfully, I am quite glad it is Legolas that fate has chosen for you.   At least I already know him and love him, and I know that he will not hurt you.   I also know that if he does, I am capable of pummeling him for you, because I have already done it many a time.”

I laughed and Legolas did too.   I felt a surge of affection from him for Arahil, of respect, admiration, and much love, three things that I too was feeling.

“Thank you Arahil,” I said softly.   Suddenly I yawned, and realized how late it was getting.   “I had better be off to bed.   We can discuss this more tomorrow.”

“May I ask you a question before you go?” he asked, inexplicably blushing.

“Of course,” I replied.   “Anything.”

He hesitated.   “What…what was it like?” he asked.

My brow furrowed.   “What was what like?”  

“The...err…kissing him.   What was it like?”

I stared at him in surprise.   “You do not know?”

He looked away.   “No.”

“What about Nariel?” I asked, wondering about his fellow tutor he had begun speaking of recently.   He had not said anything, being much too shy, but I could tell that he was interested in her.

“No,” he said, looking completely embarrassed.

“Oh,” I said, at a loss.   I cleared my throat.     “Well, I cannot really describe it, other than to say it was…the most wonderful thing I have ever experienced in my life.   I did not want to stop…ever.”

Both he and Legolas smiled.   “Good,” Arahil said.   “You must think I am sad, being eighty-three years old and never having kissed a girl before.”

I was taken aback.   “Of course I do not think that!   Do not say such foolishness again.”  

He smiled but his eyes seemed sad.   “Thank you Sorayaiel.   Good night.”  

What was wrong?   I frowned, concerned about him.   I knew he was shy but I did not know that he lacked confidence in himself like this.   I did not like it at all.  

A yawn hit me again.   It was entirely too late to be talking about whatever it was right now.   I would leave it until morning.   “Good night Arahil.”

Arahil cocked his head to one side, looking at me thoughtfully, and then smiled.   “Good night Legolas,” he said.  

This time even Legolas blushed.   “He says goodnight,” I told Arahil, laughing.  

I went to bed.   My dreams were his.