Estel groaned. These sit-ups were the part he hated most about their joint training. He knew, of course, that there was no way around it. True, Legolas had promised he would not be a tutor and the Elf kept his word. However, when it came to sit-ups, Estel did not find any advantage to their pact. If he didn't wish to follow this exercise, Legolas would look at him with disappointment, then say good-naturedly that Estel was obviously free to do as he pleased, but that he himself had to continue his regular regime.

This meant that within seconds, Estel was watching Legolas' unfathomable pace. It seemed like his shoulders never completely touched the ground and of course, Estel would join him, taking a mental note never to negotiate with, and surely lose to, Mirkwood in the future.

Today he was feeling less up to it than usual. Thoughts of Legolas had kept him awake at night. He glanced over at the Elf and far beyond him as he recalled the torment of the tempestuous moods he was experiencing every night, as soon as the candles' fire was blown at.

A mixture of laughter and tension swirled around in his brain as he battled to understand his every day routine with Legolas, and why there was something captivating about the dullest things that they had done together. The other day, he found himself leaning in to catch an instant of the Elven prince's scent. He realized then, that there was a building passion within him.

But there was also uncertainty of what this meant or could mean. In the Elven world, lust was love, but he was of a different breed. What was he to think and how was he to know what the true nature of his feelings towards Legolas were, friendship colored by desire or love?

The question he did not yet dare ask himself posed itself to him, disregarding his will to ignore it. What were Legolas' feelings towards him? Despite their closeness, as soon as he started searching all the small things they went through together, he knew there was little chance that the Elf felt anything for him but camaraderie. Without love on his companion's part, Estel knew, there would be no physical affections between them, pure and simple.

Was he to relinquish that excitement that flooded him whenever they were together then?

No. Not for the entire world, he couldn't. It made him, whatever it was, feel more alive than anything else he'd ever been through. He waited for it when he was away from Legolas' company. It filled his mind and gave all that was around him a new, richer flavor. Estel couldn't decide whether this was some physical yearning of youth or something deeper, but he did know that this was the happiest he’d ever been.

If it was nothing, it would end after it had run its course. If it had some substance, well, he had time to discover that.

Legolas finished his third and final set. He sat up and looked at his friend quizzically. Estel smiled and nodded, rose from his seat and lay down beside him on the mattress.

The Prince smiled approvingly. “I'll hold your feet for you,” he offered.

To be continued...