DISCLAIMER: I did not take any estrogen before writing this fic… um, wait… I do not own any elves… except in my dreams!

BETAS: lwarren and Siliven Tinu

This short fic is in NO way associated with any other story or series I have written! It is completely a stand alone!

My Warrior, My Prince, My Everything

He was a warrior first, though he was born a prince. His royal duties he did not take up until after he came of age, whereas he killed his first orc before he was thirty-five. Death is dealt from his hands, skillfully, quickly, but he does not enjoy it. He hates that he must kill. He fears that spilling the foul blood of our enemies taints his spirit. Yet, he does what he must to protect his people, to keep safe those he loves, even to his own harm.

He took up his crown shortly after he came of age, and the people loved him. He became skilled in diplomacy, but never forgot those whom he served. Often he could be found mingling with the common elf, learning their problems, helping to alleviate them with his own sweat and tears. He is a prince of the people… and I love him for it.

It was his position as prince that led him to Imladris that fateful day in October, but it was his skill as a warrior that brought him back to my arms safely. Yet, it is the elf himself that I love best, the one no one else sees. His people would be shocked to learn that he is shy, that he often doubts himself. He is great, but he cannot see it.

But I know… of his greatness, his fears, his sorrows. It is my breast on which he cries his tears of grief. It is my arms that comfort him when nothing else will soothe his heart. And it is only I who has known the tenderness of his touch; his hands, not only skilled in death, burn his love into my flesh, and his whispers of passion make me tremble and soar as his spirit mingles with my own.

He is everything to me, and he owns my heart. I know him, all of him, and I love him. My warrior, strong and skilled. My prince, confident and determined. My friend, shy and unsure. My lover, passionate and gentle… My husband, keeper of my heart… My everything.

I Veth
(The End)

A/N – By my estimation, an elf of thirty-five would be physically equivalent to a fourteen year old human.

In case you did not figure it out, this is from Legolas’ wife’s POV.

Reviews are highly encouraged! *begs* Come on! I’m new at this genre!

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