Almyra woke up in complete darkness, panicked. A high-pitched scream of terror replayed in her mind, over and over, sounding too out of the ordinary to be real. Yet, she knew she had heard the noise, unsettling the forest night's quiet calm, causing her to jump up in confusion and fear, surrounded by only brambles and trees. She leaned against the smooth bark of an ancient tree of some kind. Slowly, her breathing steadied, and she was able to regain her senses. She looked around. There were the same trees and the same mossy floor that had been there always. Nothing had visibly changed. Another wordless cry, this time quieter, filled her ears.
With a start, she realized suddenly that it was not an animal, or even an orch, but a man... She filled with pity at the pain-filled noise, and as she reached for her bow and her quiver of Elven arrows. She suddenly dropped her hand as she heard a voice, far away speaking a single word, barely a whisper, in elvish. An elf. The thought whirled in her head, and she shook with anger. Who would dare to harm an elf, a creature of purity? She grabbed her weapons with hands that trembled with fury, cursing the foulness of orchs. Listening intently for any more noise, she walked through a tangle of branches towards the river that was nearby. As she neared the shore, she heard cruel voices speaking. They mocked and laughed brutally at the fallen elf thrashing violently on the ground.
"Aiiiiiiii!" The elf's voice was high pitched with fear as he pleaded for his release. His blond hair, tangled and dirty, was flying wildly. He turned his face briefly, and blue eyes were round with panic. Something, a fragment of a memory, stirred inside of Almyra. She remembered slowly, an elven face, fair but distant, his sudden laughter affecting all who heard it. "Legolas…." she whispered in horror, and her emerald green eyes burned with fury. She held her bow steadily, and whipped out an arrow. Without hesitation, she stepped out of her hiding. "Hurt him once more and I'll kill you…" she said, dangerously quiet. The prince of Mirkwood would not suffer any longer.
Legolas, prince of Mirkwood, had been exhausted. He had traveled the entire day with the Fellowship, carrying extra supplies, entertaining the hobbits, and keeping watch. However, he was not tired because of this.
Wretched Boromir, he thought darkly. Whether he and Aragorn were playing a trick on him or actually meant it, they had acted strangely. They would find ways to annoy him, pressing close to him unnervingly and scheming together quietly at night. Legolas reacted frostily, more exasperated than the Elf had ever felt. That night, he had stepped quietly into the forest, to recollect his thoughts and find some peace. By the river, the moon reflected of the water, and he could see no one, nothing else but him. That's when he saw the two shapes come and attack him, dragging him out into the forest, where it was harder to run away or be seen.
He was pushed to the ground, and pinned by strong arms. "Not so ignorant now, elf." The voice was strangely familiar, Legolas realized with surprise, then anger. He struggled against Boromir, who was sneering at the elf's pathetic effort to free himself. A dagger appeared suddenly at his throat, held by another hand. "Elessar," Legolas gasped, "please, do not do this to me…" He saw the light brown hair and the cloak that had been given to him by the Council of Elrond, and gave a cry of pain as the knife made a small gash across his neck. " I beg you…" Unable to move or defend himself, he went limp, trying to be free of the sharp metal still lingering at his throat. Boromir tore off Legolas' tunic, and stood up. Placing his foot on the elf's bare torso, he laughed harshly at the helplessness that replaced the elf's unfeeling and independence. He stopped suddenly, and went on his knees, leaning closer with intent; Legolas could feel his hot breath getting nearer…
Legolas gritted his teeth. Surely they will kill me, after they have their fun torturing me… he thought swiftly. His shoulders slumped, realizing that, unless there was a distraction large enough to get them off him, there was no hope. In that moment, he looked at the bushes, half expecting to see Gandalf or Gimli standing there, coming to his aid. He almost smiled, realizing that he hadn't been this naive in a while. His smile disappeared as thoughts and memories filled him with sorrow, as he remembered old times. Caught up in what he thought his last moments, he didn't hear the girl until she stepped out into the clearing.
Almyra was silent, letting the others sense her fierce anger instead of saying it. She calmly pointed her arrow at the back of a man, who, despite her threat, kept his dagger at the prince's neck. She waited, staring at the dagger and back at the man until he spoke: "Don't get yourself involved, this is none of your business. Leave." He commanded, and Almyra gave a grim laugh, trying to sound calm, but almost letting out her bubbling fury.
"No dhínenOf all the things to say, that just might have been the dim-witted one ever. My arrow," she explained, "my arrow is very sharp. So is my aim. Do you understand?" She had the air of a patient adult explaining to a child why sticking his hand in the fire is not a good thing. She stepped closer, and Legolas couldn't help seeing how well she held the bow and arrow, and remarked quietly, "she means it…" Aragorn's attention returned to Legolas for a moment with slight surprise, before turning once again to the strange girl. He looked at the arrow, now aiming between his eyes, and cautiously removed the dagger from Legolas' throat. Legolas filled with relief, now being able to fully watch the scene before him. The girl was tall, Legolas would have said she was an elf, except her dark reddish-brown hair changed his mind.
Indeed, few female elves had tanned skin, or wore man's clothing, or traveled alone in forests. The girl (though more of a woman, now that Legolas looked closer) glanced at him in surprise, and said quietly "I am an elf. I trust you will remember me in time, Prince Legolas. Now," she said, turning to the other two, "I did not expect two men to be torturing an elf. Maybe two Orcs, two Uruk-hai, but no, never two men." She took a closer look at them, then her eyes widened in disbelief. "Aragorn, son of Arathorn, it can't be?" her eyes turned to the other man. "Faramir….or Boromir! Son of Denethor?" For a fleeting moment, Legolas started to think she would beg forgiveness or leave. Her face showed signs of distress, remorse, and confusion. Then she saw Legolas, and her eyes burned once more toward the other men.
"I am more than shocked, Elessar," she said, using his elven name and watching as he shifted uncomfortably. "Yet, my caution remains the same. I am ready to shoot, and be it a son of Denethor or a heir of Isildur's throne, I will not hesitate." She twitched her hand on the bowstring, and the corners of her mouth twitched up as she saw Boromir jerk away. The corner of her eye saw Legolas, still lying on the ground but seeming much better. She felt a pang of disappointment that he did not remember her very well, but quickly shook the thought away. She realized that Legolas, though calmer, was bleeding and needed to rest. She gave a mock sigh.
"As much as I'd love to continue this very interesting conversation, I must stop now and attend to the main reason why I came. I advise you to return to your camp." With that, Almyra pointed her bow at them both in turn, as they slowly got up and vanished into the dark forest. After a moment waiting, she nodded and walked to Legolas. Crouching down, she listened to his slow, ragged breaths. "Can you walk?" she asked hesitantly. He stayed silent for a short while, then shook his head. She carefully helped him sit up, and lifted him to his feet.
She took him to the sandy shore by the river. With quiet precision, helped him kneel by the water's edge. She paused suddenly, and Legolas looked up at her. He smiled slightly, realizing what her worry was. "Do not worry," he smiled wryly, "I can bathe myself." Almyra blushed a deep red. She nodded quickly, afraid that she would falter awfully if she tried to speak. She began to leave, but at that moment realized he was perhaps not yet strong for that much. "If you need help, lord, you have only to speak. Or whisper. I'll be near here, but I, well, won't be able to see you." She fought to keep her blush down, and walked near the forest. As she started to vanish in the trees, Legolas stopped her. "You do not need to call me prince, or lord. I am in your debt for saving my life. Estannen Legolas." Almyra glanced at him, her face neutral, and set off in the woods. As soon as she got out of his sight and range of hearing, though, she let a sigh escape her and let her appearance of calm disappear. Legolas, my fair elf.
Legolas let out a groan of sheer relaxation as his body relaxed in the refreshing coolness of the water. He let his mind wander, thinking about the songs of Elbereth and the tunes of Mirkwood, his beloved home. Thoughts were comforting to him, but he received a pleasure to close his eyes and empty his mind completely of feeling. A voice came out of the woods, quiet and concerned: "Are you alright? Legolas?"
Legolas frowned at the anxiety in her voice when she mentioned his name. She tries to contain her worry, and it almost works, but she's starting to show her stress. He gathered his clothes, eying them with distaste as he noticed spots of blood and other stains. "If you wish, lord, I have extra clothes in my pack I could get you…" she paused, realizing what he probably thought, "male elven clothes, lord!" Legolas laughed hard suddenly, at the thought of wearing a great elven woman's gown. After the comical image's hilarity wore off though, he simply laughed to be laughing, feeling a great load lighten as he let loose the feelings he had kept inside……
He lay on the sandy ground, crying silently. A person, Almyra, was holding him, trying to soothe his uncontrollable sobs whispering calm words of elvish and holding his trembling shoulders. "Ah, Legolas, it is all right, you are safe, don't worry…it's all right melon, we're safe…" she trailed off, speaking elvish once again.
After what seemed like hours, Legolas stopped crying. He rested his head on Almyra's shoulders and sighed deeply. She looked at him, and he saw at once traces of grief and concern written clearly on her face. As much as I do not want to remember what happened, I will have to tell her soon. Now.
He turned his head away from her, and sat up. He opened his mouth to speak, but Almyra shook her head. "It's not the time to be speaking of the past; it's time to rest in stillness while there is still night darkness." She said lightly, dismissing the weak glare from the other elf as he lay back against the sand. I must tell her…I suppose that after resting, I could tell her, but I feel so tired… he thought drowsily. He rested his head and closed his eyes. I wonder how she knew I was going to tell her about what happened…the thought faded away as he drifted into a dreamless sleep.
Almyra watched him as he went to sleep. She was sure a shard of her iron-hard control had given away at one time, especially when Legolas had wept. Maybe, though, he didn't see that. She looked at him as he slept peacefully on the riverside. His golden hair, though still tangled, had settled calmly by his face, making him look normal. Almost.
Legolas woke up, teeth chattering. The dew on the grass had soaked through his tunic and…wait. He looked, and saw with a shock that his tunic was removed. He remembered wildly the harsh voices, the hands gripping him tight, sudden pain filling him and… "Lord are you all right?" a gentle voice inquired. Legolas turned his head up, and stared into the young woman's eyes. Almyra, he remembered. She was looking awkwardly at him "How did I, well…" he trailed off, seeing her blush creep up again.
Why can't she control her blush, like all the other blasted women that act as men do? he wondered irritably, then sighed. "Well, your highness, your wounds under your tunic were heavily injured and I didn't want the wounds to get infected." She said briskly, then paced to the pile of clothes where his tunic lay.
She picked it up, looking at the blood and fabric rips with dislike. She waved the cloth at him before dropping it on the ground. "Furthermore, I don't think this piece of rag is what you feel like wearing," she paused, then grabbed her pack and pulled out a clean brown tunic, " It should fit. I'll get you something to drink." She added, seeing him open his mouth to speak. He gave a perplexed frown at her, which she replied with an irritatingly cheerful grin. She left, and Legolas glanced at the tunic she put in his hands.
Light cotton, free of any intricate embroidery save for a bead string across the neckline. Simple, but very comfortable. He tried to pull himself up, but he felt to weak to even speak. After attempting several times to stand, he collapsed on the floor, breathing hard. Doubt filled him. He felt spent, a feeling he had never quite felt before. Elves weren't beings who relied much on rest, and yet he had an urge to close his eyes and sleep much like Aragorn or the other Men did. Aragorn, my once friend, now enemy, he thought, bitterness washing over him as realization of what happened yesterday. Then again, I don't suppose many elves get raped by friends they trusted.
Anger and bitterness bubbled inside him and he felt slightly stronger, to be determined. He gave a groan as he slowly pushed his stiff self standing. The tunic slipped easily over his head, and the rough and unbelievably light fabric settle on his skin. He paused a moment, enjoying the feel of clean clothes on him.
"Enjoying that, my prince?"
Legolas saw a determinedly innocent face staring at him from the tree that was used as shelter. Her eyes twinkled with mischief, and the smile she was trying to hide was showing as he glared at her. The elven prince sighed. "My, my, aren't we getting outgoing?" Legolas remarked dryly. She grinned and gave a mock bow, while Legolas raised an eyebrow and frowned sternly. Almyra stuck out her tongue at him, much like a 4 year old, whirled around and flounced off.
Legolas stared, taken aback, and then burst into laughter. Again, a head of unruly red hair peered around the tree, still grinning impishly. In one quick movement, Legolas stepped towards the tree, and lunged at her. She jumped back, laughing hard, and ran away as he chased her, just as fast. As they made their third time around the tree, Almyra stopped suddenly and turned on him. Legolas skidded to a halt, nearly falling over a root sticking out from the ground. Almyra laughed, pulling him up, while he glared at her. "What do you think you're doing?" she teased, putting her hands on her hips and scowling.