Disclaimer: I own none of the Lord of the Rings Material. I know that elves are physically incapable of being prostitutes, but go with me on this because I think it makes the story work.
Chapter One
Gil-Galad led the charge from horseback, his legs keeping his seat, while he loaded a fine arrow into his bow. Behind him, Elrond and Elros leaped over barriers and fallen trees with the skill that only comes with long practice. Their faces were alight and glowing as they galloped after their foster-father and guardian. Before them, a buck, a massive creature with a chandelier of great antlers flew over the ground with graceful bounds. As Gil-Galad released the shaft from his bow, the animal swerved to the right and disappeared into a heavy thicket while the arrow buried itself deep in the bark of an elm.
"Elrond! Elros, go around the sides and corner him as he comes through! I see a way clear through the thicket, but there's only room enough for one rider," Gil-Galad called out to the young men as they reached him.
"Right then," Elros reined his mount hard to the left and Elrond served right, their horses heaving and panting with the thrill of the ride. Backing Rana, his horse, up a few yards, Gil-Galad charged ahead and they flew over the thorny barrier in a graceful arch. Thundering to the ground a moment later, they continued after the stag in the tight confines of the thicket hedge.
Keeping a tight, but quick hand on the reins, Gil-Galad forced the stag nearer and nearer toward the edge where he knew the twins would be waiting with their bows. The High king had promised a fine feast for the household that midsummer's eve and he was going to deliver like he always did. Thorns scratching his exposed face and throat, Gil- Galad ready his horse for the last jump that would carry him and the stag though the thorns and into the open clearing beyond.
The stag sprang into the air just as two arrows flew out of their bows, in perfect unison. The stag shivered and collapsed to the ground, skidding a few feet as Gil-Galad vaulted over the hedge row of thorns. What none of them saw was the hollow that Ran had the bad fortune to land in, stumbling and sending the High King over her head and to the ground with a sickening thud.
GGGGGGGGG
Gil-Galad swam toward consciousness, becoming aware of a blinding pain in his skull and shoulders. When he tried to open his eyes he couldn't. A heavy gauze bandage was wrapped over them, keeping out all light but what little crept in on either side of his nose. A damp area on the bandage was enough to convince the High King that he had been wounded badly by his fall.
"Is anyone there?" he called realizing the smells of the room and bed he was lying in were wholly unfamiliar.
No answer came, only the snap of a fire somewhere to his right. Feeling with his hands, Gil-Galad found he was lying on a narrow bed pushed up against an earthen wall. Careful of his pounding head, he pulled himself upright , swinging his long legs over the edge of the cot. With his bare feet—where had he lost his boots?--feeling the hard packed dirt floor, Gil-Galad began to remember what had happened. The hunt, the twins and the stag. He vaguely remembered hitting the ground but the memory only intensified the throbbing in his head.
The sound of the door opening and a waft of fresh summer breeze pulled his sightless eyes to the left where he felt the person standing. A faint hint of perfume and the rustles of skirts alerted him that it was a woman.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, coming into the room.
"Well enough," he answered slowly, "Where am I?"
"You're in my house in Lindon Wood, waiting for your sons to return for you," the voice replied moving to where the fire spat and hissed, "would you like something to drink?"
Yes, thank you," he said, pain lancing across his forehead. He accepted the wooden cup that she pressed into his hands. He had the impression of coll, slender fingers, but they vanished and she began to adjust the bandage he wore.
"What happened?" he asked, after the first mouthful made its icy way down his hot throat.
"Took quite a spill from your horse while hunting. You split a pretty severe crack in your head," was the calm answer.
"And the horse?"
"I'm afraid I don't know," she replied gently, "Your boys were afraid to move you far and so brought you here. One of them helped me bind you up and then they both went for help."
"What is you name madam? I wish to thank you," Gil-Galad asked.
"Istimiel, Your Highness. More water?"
"Yes, please. You already know me then?"
She laughed a little, "Oh yes, this told me even before the ellyn could." her hand touched the crest that embroidered his chest, "How does your head feel?"
Gil-Galad pressed the heel of his palms against his temples, "Splitting."
"I could give you something to relieve the pain," Istimiel offered, " That is, if you trust me enough. My guess is that a king has to be over careful of what he accepts from people."
"He does," Gil-Galad admitted, "But i don't think you would. You could have already killed me several times over while I lay unconscious. Or you could have poisoned the water. Come, let me try you remedy."
Again she gave a little laugh and there was the rustle of her skirt as she moved about the cabin. Her perfume drifted over to him and he leaned back against the wall as he waited. It was clear from the sound of their voices that it was a small cabin. Istimiel was probably one of many elves who choose to live alone. They were scattered all over Lindon and the surrounding areas. Whenever great danger threatened the loners would move into Lindon's protecting walls. Even then they were quiet and bashful.
But Istimiel's easy manner didn't seem to indicate the shy and exclusive attitude these elves usually showed. Gil-Galad decided that if she was kind and willing enough to aid him and the boys, her personality had little to do with where she lived. His sons, she had called them. This caused a new thought to come to his mind.
"Are you married madam? Do you have children of your own?" he asked.
The sounds of her activity paused for a moment, "No, I am not married. I live here quite alone. I like the solitude the wood offers." she replied, her voice guarded and ready to deflect any further questions.
"I see. I'm sorry if I offended you ma'am, I was not trying to pry."
"No." a smile eased her tone, "No. I'm sure you weren't. Forgive my sharpness, Your Majesty. I simply value my privacy."
"As do I," Gil-Galad agreed, "What little I have of it. Did you say the ellyn would return soon?"
Yes, they should be here before another hour passes. We're an hour away from Lindon castle and you were sleeping for most of the time they have been gone," there came the cool hand again as she steadied the cup he held, filling it again, "Drink this, it should ease the pain a little."
Gil-Galad drank the liquid, his tongue recoiling from the bitter flavor of feverfew, but he downed it none-the-less. Istimiel took the cup with an approving sound. He caught a tiny glimpse of scarlet as she walked away.
As he leaned back against the pillows, waiting for the herb to take effect, Gil-Galad thought about the red petticoat he had just chanced to see. It bothered him because it reminded him of something, a faction of people who wore it. People who lived and worked in human villages. Then he knew. Opening his mouth he said, "You're a prostitute."
A heavy silence followed this pronouncement. All sounds of movement ceased and Istimiel's quick and angry breathing began the only sound in the cabin. Just as Gil-Galad was fearing he had made a terrible mistake, she spoke.
"I am. But even a prostitute can show loyalty to her king without asking payment."
He sat upright again, "Are you not an elleth?"
"Yes, of course. Does that make a difference?" she challenged, her voice changing as she turned to face him, "Are you afraid I'll charge for allowing you to sleep in my bed this afternoon?"
" Be careful what you say," he said sternly, "Hurt I may be, but you will address me properly. I merely asked if you were not an elleth."
Her voice was a trifle more controlled when she answered, "You have your answer, Your Majesty."
Minutes went by, a breeze stirring the curtains at the window and brushing against the king's bare feet.
"May I have my boots please?' he asked quietly.
She opened the door and brought them in, setting them beside him. When she moved to withdraw he deftly caught her wrist as it brushed his arm, holding firmly but without bruising the skin.
"Why?" he asked her sincerely.
"Why what?" she pretended.
"Why do you live such a life?" Gil-Galad asked her, his voice low and gentle as if with a small child, "Why do you use yourself so ill?"
She swallowed, "We all do what we must to live, Your highness," her breath was warm against his cheek, "Or perhaps I am merely a wanton who delights to live in ruin and disgrace."
"You need not live so," he said, "There are other ways you may earn your bread without disgracing yourself. I cannot think that you are without other talents."
She laughed bitterly, harshly as she pulled away. He did not try to keep her still.
"Does it wound you that an elleth should lead such a life?"
"Yes. It breaks my to think that any woman, Eldar or Edain must win her living so under my rule. Is life so unfair to you that you have no other recourse?" his voice was rough and sincere and Istimiel turned away.
"You will forgive me if I do not answer your questions, Your Majesty." Istimiel replied coolly, "I will care for you and aid you as any loyal subject, for loyal I am. But I must beg to keep my privacy as to my personal life."
"I am sorry," he answered.
"Never mind," barely audible.
They did not speak again. There was nothing left to say. Gil-Galad pulled his boots on and waited for the tell-tale sound of hooves to herald the arrival of the twins. The pain in his head had lessened, but lingered stubbornly behind his eyes. Istimiel said nothing but went about her duties as if she had forgotten he was there. The High King was sick at heart for wounding her. It made him angry and frustrated that there were such goings-on in his kingdom. He tried to keep purity and equity in all his dealings with his subjects, yet here was this woman, living this life. Still, Istimiel had made it quite clear that she wasn't going to talk about it.
Fifteen minutes later the twins arrived with the royal healer and a carriage to transport Gil-Galad back to the city. When the two princes came into the cabin the tension was so great they could almost reach out and touch it. But, with their royal training, they merely spoke to the elleth kindly and helped their foster-father. They had known what Istimiel was when they had left Gil-Galad with her, but they also knew that they needed her help and chose not to judge her. Now it looked as if Gil-Galad had discovered it and there had been some unpleasantness on both sides.
While Elros helped Gil-Galad to the carriage, Elrond thanked Istimiel and offered her a small hide bag of silver for her pains.
Pushing it back into his hands, she shook her head, "I really cannot take this, Prince," she said, "please, it was enough to aid the king."
"I hope that--," Elrond bite his lip, a very human gesture, "I hope that you understand my king. He loves his people. All of them."
Istimiel offered a weak smile, "I know he does. Some of us, however, lead lives that are hard for even the victorious king to admire. Good day, Prince."
They bowed and went out to where the royal entourage waited. Elrond mounted his horse and bowed again to the woman. Her eyes went to the carriage where Gil-Galad was sitting, his bandages head between his hands again. As if sensing her glance he turned toward her and even though his eyes were covered, she looked away. With a call, they began to move and before long were lost to her sight between the trees. And Istimiel watched them go, her lovely face blank and empty.
Reveiws? Looking for a Beta.