Elf-Beast
Author's Muse:I totally had that moment where I was reading through this and thinking, "I can't add anything more to this without making the first chapter too long!" So, this is what I give you. I promise that there is a lot more in the next chapter than this one. Since this is chapter number one, such should be expected anyway.
So, this is a fairy tale that I'm borrowing from. From the title I'm certain that you can ascertain the story to be Beauty and the Beast set in the LOTR setting staring Prince Legolas Thranduilion as the Beast and Bellethiel of Lothlorien as the "Beauty". Unlike my story "Bellethiel Dimraethur" this one is definitely a Legolas/OC romance with a bunch of interesting things in between. Anyway, like it? Hate it? DESPISE IT? Review and let me know what you think! Critiques are welcome (i should start specifying that...)!
Chapter 1
Beauty Chosen
No one ever asked why the Prince of Mirkwood summoned a human female for a new sacrifice. The people merely gave what was apparently owed to him without question. It was unjust and unfair, but their king had commanded it to be so. There was no choice. If there was, things would be different. Their daughters wouldn't have to be subject to that thing in the castle beyond them.
Every year his highness would call for a young maiden recently come of age to spend a month inside of his castle and every year the people would comply without question. The king had asked it of them. His son, argued the king, could not help what he was. The prince was cursed and the King was trying to find the cure. The villagers had their own views as to how disgustingly vile such a trade was, but the villagers were still forced to comply.
The young human women came back, most of them at least, with minor injury. They brought tales of a beautiful elf prince who walked the castle halls during the day and also of a woeful beast that male turned into at night. Such wouldn't be too much of a problem, the women argued, if it wasn't for the sad fact that the princeling was arrogant and self-righteous. He had no love and many of the women felt that the prince's curse was well deserved. No one died and no one was hurt horribly when they went to the castle so long as the women kept out of the prince's way, so the villagers continued to send their little sacrifices.
Only a few deaths occurred and no one knew completely why said deaths happened. The villagers speculated that it was because some of the young ladies decided to actually try and help the beast that was their prince and paid for it. The village women, every night, crowded around their children's beds every night and taught their young daughters to avoid the beast; not to show compassion for the beast. It was done out of self-preservation of many generations.
Because the beast was an elf his life was extended indefinitely. Seven hundred and ninety-nine years had passed and on the beginning of his hundredth year the call was made, again, for a single maiden just come of age.
This call came one night from one of the few people able to live with the lord; a young looking elf by the name of Glorfindel. He was known, to those of the village, as the angel of dread. His ethereal, silver-blond head was seen the moment he opened the door of one of the two inns that resided in the village. A dread fell upon the tipsy and/or drunk tavern occupants as they watched the elf scan the room. It was never a good thing when Glorfindel came to the village as he only entered once a year.
Finally he spoke, "It is time, once again, for a sacrifice to be made for the benefit of his highness. You have three days to decide on who it is shall go and, on the first day of the new month, I shall return to him with her."
With that he walked to the bar, placed money on the counter, and made his way towards the one room in the inn that was always kept unoccupied for his personal use.
The men erupted in outraged fear and wondered at whom they would send to the castle for a month.
"Your daughter occupies her time! She should be sent," said one man to another across the room.
That man shook his head, "Twill be no good I am afraid. She's walkin' out with Argden's boy and been's so for over a month.
Two hooded figures from the corner watched mutely while the men argued about whose daughter they would send into the dark, dreary castle that spelled so much foreboding for the populous. Finally, one of the other customers turned to said hooded figures and pointed at them.
"Why don' we sends an elf this time?! Why does it always have to be a human who takes the plunge into the fire?" he asked.
The figures remained silent while the rest of the drunken men in the room began to shout out their angry agreement to the prior man's statement. Elves shouldn't be excluded in this! Surely there was at least one elf in the village that was of age?
The hooded figures stood up and left in the midst of this commotion as silent as shadows. Both glad of the hoods that hid their troubled looks.
Out on the street one of the figures spoke, "Our lady is of age. She's been so for eight months now. She is a candidate and we do live within the confines of Thranduil's domain even if we are not his subjects."
The other hooded male elf snorted, "She is not one of Thranduil's subjects. Glorfindel and the villagers have no right to send her into that… that monster's clutches!"
They remained silent as they passed through the sleeping village each with their own worried thoughts about the fate of their lady.
"Mayhaps we should consider all the same. Placing human women into the claws of the prince is nothing but ridiculous. Thranduil should have sent his elven subjects into such danger. We can protect ourselves where humans cannot," reasoned the other elf once they made it into the wooded countryside.
The other male lowered his hood revealing his long silver hair as he replied, "I may agree with you on your sentiments about Thranduil's handling of this situation, but I am afraid that we cannot send in our little aunt. Our father would be most displeased let alone our grandmother."
The moonlight spilled through the leafless trees as they trekked through the snow. The hooded figure remained so and the silver light shadowed the creases in said hood. His unhooded sibling's silver hair was reflected in the light making him seem as ethereal as Glorfindel.
"Would our aunt nominate herself should it seem that one of her friends is chosen?" asked the hooded one.
The silver haired one smiled ruefully, "If it is foolish and dangerous, she will do it."
"Then we must lock her inside her room for three days," insisted one.
Silver snorted, "She'd break out. She has done it before."
They came upon a modest cottage that rested against the trees. The second brother lowered his hood and revealed long, dark, tresses that cascaded over his back. Despite the difference in hair color both males strongly resembled the other.
"Is it wise to tell our sister?" asked the dark haired one.
The silver haired one nodded, "I am afraid so. She goes to town tomorrow and our little aunt has been restless with excitement at the prospect of going."
"They need not know that she is of age, do they?" inquired his brother.
The other sibling frowned and crossed his arms in thought. Could that work? Other elves couldn't always tell the age of other elves if the other elf was mature enough. He winced at that thought. His little aunt might have been sturdy and forthright (like most aunts were known to be), but she most certainly had none of the maturity of one over the age of one hundred. She still looked young, too. Glorfindel was older than many elves that he knew. The prince's servant would notice.
"If she decides to go, we will not stop her," declared the brother with silver hair.
With that they entered the house with grim looks on their faces. Their sister Arwen was still awake and writing up a list of necessities and niceties she would need to buy for the household the next day.
Arwen was younger than the twin siblings who had just entered their cottage. She was tall, though like here aunt she was not as tall as many elven women in her race. Her hair resembled the color of a raven's plume and cascaded in straight strands over one shoulder while she bent over the dining table of the cottage to write. Her brothers approached her cautiously and Arwen glanced up at them with a soft smile on her face.
"Good evening brothers. I trust that trade in town went well?" she asked pleasantly.
One brother exchanged a wary glance with his twin and replied, "Your carvings and Belle's little drawings sold wonderfully among the young men and women of the village and we were able to sell enough animal skins to buy enough of the butcher's meat to last us a few months before we mush hunt again. I trust that your venture into town will be a prosperous one? There is enough money left over for you and Belle to buy what you have been wanting."
Arwen smiled and bent back to her work, "I am glad to hear that."
The twins moved towards the hooks on the wall near the entranceway where they placed their outdoor wear. While removing their cloaks the dark haired twin finally ventured the subject he and his twin were discussing earlier.
"Sister, you have heard of the village's yearly practice, am I correct?" inquired the ellon cautiously.
Arwen paused in her writing and looked up at her brothers who were purposefully not facing her. The raven haired elleth's face was already pale, but had turned an unhealthy shade of white at the question.
"I am aware. Is it time?" she asked shakily.
Her brother, the silver haired one who called himself Elrohir, nodded gravely, "I am afraid so. The villagers are calling for an elf to be chosen this year. They know Belle is here and they are aware of the fact that she is a very young elleth. They simply do not know how young. I am afraid that it may come up tomorrow and Belle will get it into her head to join the ranks of the Chosen."
Arwen's face was a stone mask and there was a semblance of anger that flared in her sapphire blue eyes, "I need not venture into town tomorrow. I can leave it till another day."
Her other brother, Elladen, shook his head, "I doubt that will work, sister. Our little aunt will get suspicious and go to town on her own. As an official adult elf we cannot stop her from doing so."
Arwen looked down at the piece of paper she was formerly writing own and stared at it blankly for a while. There didn't seem to be a way out of their predicament. In any case, they were residents of the village and its surrounding countryside. They had to abide by the laws of the land even if they were not subjects of that land's king. There was also the factor that her little aunt would wish to volunteer and she knew there was always that possibility to consider.
Resigned to the fate that was in store for them all Arwen said, "Whatever happens, we must embrace it calmly though we may not like it."
Elladen smiled a weak smile and retorted, "Such can be translated as, whatever happens will unless our little aunt volunteers herself. Then our big sister will have a few words with her."
Arwen laughed, cried, and attempted to present a faux anger towards her little brother but failed to do so in the end.
"Belle, what do you think of this cloth for your new spring dress?"
Bright blue eyes narrowed at the sight of the small bronze haired figure standing in the other side of the room with her nose buried in a book. Her elder "niece", Arwen, pursed her lips in annoyance and walked up to the other female. She raised the cloth over the little elf's bronze head and draped it over her lightly. This had the desired effect in the sense that it caught the younger female's attention.
"Arwen was this necessary?" asked the female named Belle.
Arwen flicked some of her dark brown hair out of her face before replying in an exasperated tone, "You are not paying attention! I asked you if this cloth would suffice for your spring dress we were planning to sew."
Bellethiel pulled the cloth off of her head and examined it with mild interest. The cloth was a light green which she decided was a good thing and it was a light cotton texture instead of silk or velvet finery. She frowned. Despite how ideal the woven fabric was for outdoor activity the young female knew that the piece of clothing made from it would, in turn, not be. She smiled wanly all the same and handed the material back to her elder.
"Arwen, I believe it will do fine. Forgive me for not being attentive," she sounded defeated but the elder didn't notice.
Arwen patted Belle's shoulder, "All is forgiven, Little Aunt."
Bellethiel kept a straight face while she inwardly blanched at the nickname given to her by her niece. It was a sad thing for her to admit, but Bellethiel was younger than her niece and nephews. By elf standards she was positively a fledgling compared to them. Despite this Belle felt a companionship with her older family members that she didn't have with much of the elves she was acquainted to. Of course, this had a lot to do with who she was, but not everyone could help their lineage. This was why, when Belle's parents decided that she needed to spend her fledgling adult years away from home to become acquainted with others who did not know as well as other races. The idea worked more or less.
Arwen led her to the counter where the owner of the store stood watching them warily. The tall dark haired beauty smiled in the human woman's direction and placed the cloth onto the counter.
"We wish to purchase this," she stated.
The woman smiled tightly and replied, "Eight coppers, then."
Belle, a little surprised by the woman's hostility, glanced at Awren with an unsure expression on her face. The villagers weren't normally hostile to their presence.
While Arwen searched out the exact amount of money owed, the storekeeper studied the younger, shorter, elf maiden with a stern look on her face.
"When is an elf considered of age?" she asked abruptly.
Arwen tensed but the motion went unnoticed by the younger elf as she answered politely, "At the age of one hundred. Why do you wish to know?"
The storekeeper crossed her arms and glared at the two of them, "I ask because the prince's drone has arrived and he wants to take our 'of age' daughters for a month to do with them as he pleases!"
Arwen glanced in fear at her young aunt who looked on the verge of outrage. Bellethiel's teal eyes widened in horrified surprise at the declaration of the middle-aged woman and she turned to glare at her niece.
"Did you know of this?" she asked.
Arwen shook her head, "Not until last night. Your nephews, however, heard word of such a practice taking place a few months ago."
Bellethiel shook her head and turned to the graying human before her and said, "I assure you, Gretta that I never knew of this. Why does this happen?"
Arwen closed her eyes and wished that the human woman had kept her mouth shut. Bellethiel had certain concrete morals instilled into her being from a young age and culture shock such as this constantly unhinged her. She remembered, once, when her father, Elrond, had brought news to Belle and her parents about the goings on in the court of Mirkwood's king (the realm they were residing in). Certain subjects seen as horrendous by the rest of the race simply shocked and angered the younger elleth to the point where she found the need to leave the room. This was merely one of those times when Bellethiel was simply going to have to adjust to newer customs.
Gretta, for her part, softened a bit as she took the time to explain the myths behind the reasoning, "Our king's only son, Prince Legolas, was cursed many years ago by an elf-witch from the Golden Woods. At that time he was merely proud and conceited. Now he demands one young woman recently come of age from our village as a way to sate his unpredictable anger. The young girl must stay with him a month and they return scared out of their wits! A few have even been killed! Every sacrifice is always a human because only human girls are chosen. The elves that live within the village and the surrounding area are either too old or clear out before the time comes for another candidate."
Bellethiel gaped, glanced at Arwen, and then turned back to Gretta, "How long?"
Gretta sighed, "Six hundred years. The prince was two hundred and thirty-six when he was cursed. We don't understand why he needs young women, but our king compels us to do whatever we can to appease him so we must. I merely asked because I know Josclyn is being considered as a possible candidate and there was call from her father for a young elf maid to go instead of a human."
Belle's face visibly paled and she clutched her book tightly against her chest. She stood in front of the counter frozen for a few minutes while the two elders watched her warily. Suddenly she rushed out of the shop with a speed that Arwen found she could not match in time. It didn't take long for her to become lost in the crowd. Bellethiel was small enough to sufficiently weave through without creating a path evident for others to follow. It was the blessing and curse of her unnatural size and body shape.
She pushed her way through the bustling crowd of humans and sparse elves that littered the marketplace. She ignored some of the hostile stares from the men and women as she stopped one man going the opposite direction.
"Sir, may I inquire as to where the prince's messenger is residing?" she asked.
The man gave her a startled look as he answered, "Shephard's Inn, I believe. Belle what-?"
The bronze haired young woman tucked the book she had been reading into her bag as if just realizing she still held it and ran off in the direction of the inn she was seeking. Shortly afterwards her keeper, Arwen, followed hastily but was unable to catch up to her "little aunt" as she disappeared into the crowd again and made for the inn.
Bellethiel was practically graceless when she finally stumbled into the inn and interrupted the group of men huddled around a table. Ten elderly faces and one smooth and other-worldly face looked up at her with various expressions of shock written on their faces. On the other side of the inn, five young females sat around a smaller table looking frightened and surprised at the appearance of the elleth. One of them, a golden blond, blue eyed youth, stood up as shock and pleasure outweighed her fear momentarily.
"Belle? What are you doing here?" she inquired.
Bellethiel smiled and nodded in her direction before turning her attention to the village elders and the prince's servant. The astonishment had melted away to look of either affront or impatience. One elderly man straightened up in his seat.
"Bellethiel, what is it you want? The elders are busy with an important meeting," he stated.
Belle took a deep breath and said, "I wish to be considered as a candidate for this… sacrifice I believe it would be called."
The blond elf looked beyond shocked at such a declaration and the elders of the village exchanged looks. Bellethiel, for her part, remained standing with her arms crossed over her chest and a stern look on her face as she continued to stare at the men before her. As intended, her gaze unsettled them and caused them to fidget in their seats. Such a factor filled her with pride. If there was anything she inherited from her mother she inherited her piercing stare.
The male elf cleared his throat and asked, "Are you of age?"
Bellethiel nodded, "My one hundredth birthday was seven months ago. I am old enough to be considered."
The fair haired elf glanced at the eldest of the humans in the room and stated, "It has never been done before, but I cannot see why it should not. Though she is not the subject of the king she is a resident of the village and, therefore, lawfully obliged to be considered as a candidate."
Bellethiel thought that his observation was of particular interest to her. This blond elf so much as told all of the occupants in the room, including herself, that he knew of her and her family's presence in the village. Vaguely she wondered whether or not the prince knew of them and whether or not he knew who she was.
Despite her evident wish to be considered there was an uproar of opposition from the elders. Most of this opposition centered on the fear of wrath being placed upon them if King Thranduil heard that they had the audacity to even consider sending an elf to his cursed son. The council was divided almost in half and Belle was surprised to find that the messenger of the prince was arguing in favor of her going. Finally the eldest among the council of elders held up his hand to signal to the other men to quiet down.
"Bellethiel may not be long in our village's lands, but she is still considered a resident. She has as much of a right as the others. Besides, it is rare that we get a volunteer who is, in fact, an elf so I suggest that we include her," he reasoned with a finality that silenced all opposing arguments.
The elder nodded to Belle with a sad smile on his face indicating that she should join the other women while the men discussed. The bronze haired elleth inclined her head and turned to sit next to the one who had greeted her upon arrival; Josclyn. Her blond friend nudged her and shook her head. Belle returned the look with one that rivaled Josclyn's and the two entered into a silent argument.
Finally, Josclyn shook her head and hissed, "I don't care! You should not have done that!"
Bellethiel looked away from her friend and muttered, "I had to, indeed. This whole sacrifice idea for the whim of a prince is wrong and selfish of the king. Besides, I owe your people on a personal note."
The other girls gave her a confused look that mirrored Josclyn's.
A red head by the name of Emny leaned forward and asked, "Belle, you do not owe our village anything. You are not even from Mirkwood!"
Bellethiel leaned forward and whispered, "I heard the tale today for the first time. I know I have lived here long enough to understand that I should have known about the sacrifice long ago, but I have family members who wished to keep it a secret. As I listened to Gretta, who related the tale to me, she spoke of an elf-witch from the Goldenwoods as the one who cursed your prince. I have met that witch and know her quite intimately."
Josclyn, who saw the direction her friend was taking her explanation, sat back against her seat and almost lifted her chair off of the ground backwards. Her mouth formed an "oh" though no sound was uttered. The other young women blinked at her owlishly before turning back to Bellethiel with breathless anticipation.
"How intimately do you know the elf-witch?" asked a pale blond girl name Sheela.
Bellethiel closed her eyes and answered with barely a whisper, "Her name is Galadriel and she is my mother."
Silence from the of-age women greeted her declaration while the low murmurs of the men indicated that they were still discussing their fates.
Outside of the inn Arwen sat on a bench staring blankly at the green cotton cloth she purchased earlier for her "little aunt". Her brothers had warned her that taking Bellethiel out for the next three days would not be wise, but when Arwen had attempted to convince her younger aunt to remain at the cottage she was shot down at every turn.
It wasn't surprising to the brunette elleth in the least. Her aunt, resembling more of a little cousin than anything else, was strong-willed and free spirited. She did not like being kept in confined spaces for very long and she also did not like it when people around her gave her unreasonable explanations as to why she wasn't allowed to do something. Arwen's problem was that she didn't like to lie; especially not to her little aunt. Belle was the little sister that she never had due to her mother's untimely death and the older elleth simply adored the feeling of being around an elf who was both younger than her and more innocent than many other's she knew.
Bellethiel was young and youth was known to make mistakes. Prince Legolas had originally made the mistake of angering the lady Galadriel because of the arrogance, conceit and unnatural (for a Mirkwood elf) cruelty that bordered on evil. Her aunt hadn't been born during the time the prince wasn't under the queen of Lothlorien's curse and she never met him. She didn't understand the trouble she was about to get herself in.
From the corner of her eye Arwen saw that her brothers were approaching her looking grave and she raised her head to send them a ghost of a smile. It was impossible to be truly joyful at a time such as this one.
"Elrohir. Elladen. It is nice to see you this fine afternoon," greeted Arwen as evenly as she could without breaking from her every growing worry.
Elladen, the twin with light brown hair, shot a questioning glance at the inn. His sister's nod confirmed both brothers' fears that the inevitable would happen.
Elrohir breathed out weakly, "Such a fool move."
"She is young," reminded Elladen.
"She is like our grandmother," asserted Arwen.
They stood in the winter afternoon and the last rays of sunlight vanished behind thick grew/blue clouds that indicated a coming snowfall.
"Tis a mere month," reminded Elladen.
"She will be in a castle with a prince who can barely control his anger!" exclaimed Arwen.
Elrohir looked thoughtful as he uttered, "Or she may kill him out of irritation?"
His twin chuckled at the thought while reflecting on how Belle's tolerance of people who had dispositions like the prince was extraordinarily low.
His sister gaped out him in outraged shock, "Do not say such dreadful things, brother!"
Elladen piped up, "She may break the curse."
"I highly doubt that," retorted Arwen primly.
Elrohir grinned roguishly, "You do not think she will?"
"I do not doubt her abilities in falling in love or causing anyone of any disposition to harbor some sort of affection or appreciation for her. I doubt the ability of his highness to take to her in the way that he must to break said curse. Remember also that she too must feel something for him in return. I know our little aunt's disposition well enough to understand the fact this will all come to naught," Arwen explained.
Elladen shook his head with mock sadness after listening to his older sister's explanation, "Then, I believe there is no alternative. I'll give her a week before her patience snaps!"
This met with great, and vocal, disapproval from Arwen and great guffaws of laughter from Elrohir.
Josclyn, from where she sat, perked her head up at the sound of Elrohir's laughter from outside. The discussions on the other side of the room faltered when the sound was made and some of the men glanced over at the door while the others willfully ignored it. A loud female voice piped in shortly after the laughter was heard and carried on for a few minutes. Bellethiel, who recognized the voices, buried her face into her hands as the waves of embarrassment began to flow from her.
To answer the questioning looks that the other girls were giving her Belle muttered, "They are most likely speculating about what I will do to the prince after a week or so should I be chosen."
Josclyn, who knew her friend very well, smirked and replied, "Would it look anything like what you did to that one suitor, Gaston? The man who would constantly follow you home?"
The other of-age women tittered at the memory. It had been a mere few months since then and still the man's reputation was shattered!
"He barged into my house so I hit him with a frying pan!" squeaked Belle softly with indignation.
"You also, if I recall, kicked him in the stomach, picked him up with one hand and threw him out of the entryway and into the mud," reminded Josclyn whose smug expression could be seen by the men across the room.
"We were all there, Belle," a girl by the name of Rebecca reminded the small group, "he was supposed to propose to you. Did he even get that far?"
Bellethiel's face remained unreadable as she answered, "No."
Josclyn knew a different side to that story, but kept her peace. Even she agreed that it was best the village did not know about all of the circumstances behind the infamous Gaston's exit from the elf cottage.
A girl named Kaelya piped up, "You must be really strong to be able to lift such a big and muscular man out of your house."
Belle looked modest, "I am not strong by elven standards. I merely know how to use another's weight against them. Elrohir taught me."
"I would love it if your nephew could teach me a few things, Belle," commented Sheela.
This sparked a conversation among the four other women about the elves in the neighborhood and who they thought was the most desirable. Josclyn and Bellethiel turned back to each other while shaking their heads.
"While we are on the subject of males in general, how are your fairing with your own suitor?" asked Belle curiously.
Josclyn blushed at the mention of her beaux and glanced to the right at the wall of the inn. This threw Bellethiel into a fit of uncontrollable giggles at her best friend's expression.
Gaston was a renowned hunter in the village since the time he was fifteen years of age and killed a bear with his bare hands. His body looked as if it was constructed by a hammer and chisel. His arms and legs looked like tree trunks and his chest was overly muscular and distinctly defined. Along with his great strength came a great sense of self importance and arrogance concerning his abilities. When Bellethiel arrived in the village with her family members Gaston was taken off guard.
Elrohir and Elladen were better hunters than he. Where Gaston used a crossbow and traps Belle's nephews only needed their longbows. Most of their hunting was done in the tallest of trees and Gaston couldn't climb a tree. Their skills and methods were different than Gaston's and the human hunter was greatly jealous of their increasing success.
One day Gaston laid eyes upon Bellethiel's small, slight, form. Struck by her beauty the human hunter made plans to woo her and with every attempt he made she kindly (and patiently) turned him down. Dumbstruck and confused as to why the young elleth refused to receive him he doubled his efforts and became increasingly overbearing.
One day Gaston crossed the line. The big human male came to Bellethiel's cottage six months after he began unsuccessfully attempting to win her affections knocking on her door without an invite. Arwen, Elrohir and Elladen were not present at the time for they had business in the village and Belle had morning duties to attend to in their home.
Bellethiel had been reading a leather bound book that was a work of fiction written by a local resident in the village. She was engrossed in her book and, therefore, annoyed that the person who interrupted her quiet reading was the person most unwelcomed in her life. Gaston barged his way into her house the moment she opened the door and tried, unsuccessfully, to seduce her. Bellethiel put up with it for as long as she could before she forcibly removed the man from her house.
Josclyn had witnessed the huntsman's exit scene while she was attempting to get through the crowd to see her best friend that day. Later that afternoon when the crowd dispersed with the spurned Gaston, Josclyn and Belle conspired to speak to the village elders on the subject of this man.
There was a trial and the village elders cast Gaston out of the village with the threat that they would let the two very angry nephews of Belle deal with him.
The negotiations continued well into the night. Hilda, the innkeeper's wife, provided free rooms for the young women (and elleth) to sleep in while the men continued to talk among themselves. Belle and Josclyn shared a room though neither could sleep. The two noticed, passingly, that their family members were waiting outside of the inn around a fire. They could hear Arwen's voice singing softly in the night and the two of them opened the shutters to listen better to her beautiful rich mezzo-soprano voice. The golden blond human rested on the bed while Bellethiel quietly read her book sitting in a chair in the corner of the room with said reading material resting on a table in front of her.
After a while Josclyn asked, "What is Arwen singing? I do not recognize the song."
Belle smiled, "The Song of Baren and Luthien."
The human woman lay back down and continued to stare at the ceiling while listening to the voice of Arwen drift through the window.
"I don't want you to get picked, Belle," muttered Josclyn.
The bronze haired elleth looked over her shoulder and said, "I do not want you to be chosen. I do not want any human to be chosen. The prince is dangerous and none of you are Dunadain women. The prince is an elf and he is elf business. King Thranduil should never have involved your village."
Josclyn sat up again and gave Belle an angry look, "I understand that you do not like the ruling of the king, but our village has dealt with this for hundreds of years. Not one of us has an ancestor who did not live with the prince-."
Belle cut her off, "A hundred years is as one for an elf, Joss. Misery loves company and the king is giving his son a village."
"But people have died!" exclaimed her friend.
Bellethiel looked strained, "Yes, human people have died. Where are the elf women being forced into this ritual may I ask? They are hiding from the beast and forcing you to suffer him! Well, I will not hide! I am not of Mirkwood, but I am still an elf. I can handle a raging beast."
Josclyn rose from the bed and walked over to her friend. She sat on the table with a fearful look on her face.
"Belle, this beast isn't like Gaston. He's had ages upon ages to be cruel and allow his evil to fester and grow. His strength is greater than yours, that I know," the blond muttered.
Bellethiel smirked, "Some say the strength of the mind is greater than the strength of the body."
Josclyn sighed and went back to the bed. She returned to her former position and after a few minutes each female went back to their previous time passers.
There was a knock on the door and Josclyn shot upright in the bed while Bellethiel called, "You may enter!"
The door opened and one of the village elders, a muscular woodcutter, stepped over the threshold but didn't continue further. His grey eyes met the teal ones of Bellethiel and the bronze haired woman's breath caught.
"It has been decided and the elders wish for you, Bellethiel, to be the next chosen," he said gravely.
Josclyn leapt up from her seat and made as if to attack the man with a cry of, "NO!"
Bellethiel caught her best friend and held her back from the big elder staring sadly, though not apologetically, at the two of them.
"Belle, please! Do not do this! I beg of you! Do not throw an eternity of reputation away for the sake of us!" Josclyn exclaimed.
The bronze haired lady of Lorien held her best friend at arm's length and kept a steady gaze; locking her teal eyes with Josclyn's brown ones.
"Aní lasta. Tullen tyé-varien, meldenya," she muttered in elvish. (Listen to me. I'm here to protect you, my friend)
Josclyn, able to understand at least a little of what Bellethiel was trying to say, finally calmed. She did not, however, settle the discussion.
"This is not your fight. It never was in the first place. Do not allow something that my king commands affect you. You are not his subject," she insisted.
Bellethiel shook her head, "But this is my fight. I am an elf. I will protect you and your people from one of my own race. This burden was never yours to bear and you will bear it no longer."
With that, she stepped away from the person she grew closest to outside of her family since the day she settled in the vicinity of the small town and followed the village elder out of the room.