I was too stunned to talk and too sick to move, so I stood in the middle of the dance floor, breathing hard and trying not to faint from the nausea and worry. After a few moments, I was able to move myself off the dance floor and near another table of wine. I picked up the wine glass and downed it like a beer, putting the empty glass back on the table and picking up another one. I had to get out. I should have left Gondor this morning.
As I walked out of the ballroom, hurrying to get back to my room and pack my things, I ran into someone so hard that we both fell down, him on the ground and I on top of him.
"You must learn to stop being so clumsy," Legolas said from under me. I pushed myself up with my hands on either side of him.
"I—I'm sorry—I was in a hurry and I—I didn't see you—" I groped for words.
"Tialyn, it's alright. I quite liked it," he smiled. I pushed myself off of him and stood up, his body following mine. "You look anxious, are you alright?"
"Yes, I—well, I think I should go," I said hurriedly.
"Go where?" he looked genuinely concerned. All trace of cheek had been erased from his face.
"Back to my room—back to Imladris, both, I don't know." I must have sounded crazy, and the look on Legolas' face was getting more and more tense. He furrowed his brow at me.
"Let me come with you." His honey brown eyes swung from one of mine to the other, and I could see he was sincere. I sighed and without indicating if that was alright or not, I walked out of the Great Hall, hearing Legolas' hurried footsteps behind me.
"Know of any place we can get a good bottle of wine?" I asked, slowing to allow him to walk beside me. After all, if I could not stay at the Great Hall and drink, I might as well enjoy myself elsewhere.
"Of course I do," Legolas grinned, grabbing my arm and pulling me to the left. We walked down the street a little way until we reached a small, marble shop with a sign that read "O'LUNNEY'S" hanging over the entrance. Legolas walked inside first, and I followed. The store was small but homey; it smelled of sweet grapes mixed with dust. The floor was hardwood, and aisles were crafted by tall, wide, shelves made of a burgundy wood, stacked with every kind of wine imaginable. The scene was almost breathtaking. He nodded to the right, to the first aisle labeled "Red Wines." I smiled in approval and we both walked down the aisle, squinting at names and dates. Finally, Legolas picked out a wine bottle labeled "South Farthing," year 1296. I nodded in agreement, and we walked out of the store opening the bottle.
"Legolas, you really have very good taste," I said, taking my second swig of wine.
"I must say I hear that a lot," he winked, snatching the bottle from me and downing a bit.
"Oh, you! You're just ridiculous," I laughed. We joked all the way back to my room about random, silly things. When we finally got back, the bottle of wine was half empty.
"Seriously, Legolas, what is it with you Mirkwood folk?" I asked without inviting him inside. He must have been feeling as open as I was, because he walked in behind me and plopped down on the nearest chair. The room I was staying in (and I say room, but it was more like a marble cabin) was rather large for one person. Chairs were set up at a small table in the left corner on the wall of the door. A medium-sized window with curtains drawn overlooked the street on the opposite side. My pallet on the floor was bigger and softer-looking than I remembered, and the bathroom – well, the large bathroom – was on the right side of the room. The opposite side of the room also featured a fireplace that looked as if it had never been used. I pulled a chair out and sat across the table from Legolas, slamming the wine bottle down on the table.
"What do you mean, Mirkwood folk?" he asked, taking a sip of the wine.
"I mean, you Elves are all high-and-mighty, thinking you're the best because you like trees more than the rest of us. I mean, I like trees of course, but why feel sympathy or compassion for them? Sure, I talk to them every once in a while but, and maybe it's just me, but they never talk back!" I said all of this in one breath and found myself gasping for air at the end of my sentence.
"You should come to Mirkwood with me after we leave Gondor," he said with a very serious look on his face. I nearly spit out the wine in my mouth.
"To Mirkwood?" I sputtered after choking down the wine. "I could not possibly. I would be so out of place."
"I really doubt that, Tia," he said, using my nickname for the first time. The look on his face was still utterly serious; so serious, in fact, that I could not help but start laughing. "What?" he asked, incredulously. I kept laughing, so hard I started crying.
"Oh, Legolas, just the thought of me coming to Mirkwood. It's just so silly," I gasped.
"I'm not being silly, I'm being serious!" He looked mildly insulted.
"Alright, alright, I'm sorry," I said, the laughter subsiding.
"Tell me about yourself, Tialyn," Legolas said, taking another swig of wine. "You know about me. I'm a Prince of Tree-Loving Mirkwood, but I know nothing of you."
"It really is not that interesting of a tale, Legolas," I said, but the look on his face was one of utter curiosity, so I sighed and went on. "Well, I am from Imladris, which is how I know Aragorn so well. We are best friends." Legolas harrumphed. "What?" I asked quizzically.
"Anyone would think you two are lovers, the way you behave around one another," he said matter-of-factly. My eyes widened in disbelief.
"What? Aragorn and I?"
"Oh, do not pretend you do not know." I sighed in concession.
"We are just very close friends, and we once had a thing, but we decided it was much too ridiculous and that we were better as friends, or flirting buddies, or what-have-you," I said, "Now if I can continue," I glanced at him. He smiled and nodded for me to carry on. "So, I live in Imladris. My family—well, my parents sailed off to the Grey Havens with the rest of the Elves of Imladris. I stayed behind."
"Why would you not go with your family?"
"I did not want to leave my home. For thousands of years, Imladris has been my home, and the home of my ancestors. I know it is the time of the Man to rule Middle-earth, and with that I have no problem, because they were able to exist in this world when the time of the Elves was nigh. Besides, Middle-earth is too good of a place to leave, and it would mean leaving Aragorn to live in an undisturbed marriage, and I simply could not have that," I smiled smugly. Legolas shook his head and laughed, taking another sip of the wine. I went on. "I was an only child, so my parents were my only family besides my friends. Most of them left, too, but – I just love Imladris too much to leave, and there is too much in this world I have not yet discovered. I was not ready to leave with the rest."
"You do know there will be one last ship to the Undying Lands," Legolas interjected. "You could still go."
"I would never dream of it. I miss my parents, but I know they are safe and happy. Now I have to live out my life where I want to." Legolas nodded, taking another sip of the wine, putting the bottle down on the table, putting both his elbows on the table and resting his head in his hands. "Tell me of the journey you took, Legolas, and the people you met, the places you went. I would so love to visit them all."
"You could start with Mirkwood," Legolas replied, his eyes dancing and a shameless smile spreading across his lips. I laughed and shook my head. "My favorite place I have visited was Lórien." This surprised me. "The whole place was so beautiful; the trees were glowing and Galadriel…" his sentence trailed off and he was lost in thought. I cleared my throat to get him to continue. "Goheno nin," he said softly. "Galadriel must be the most beautiful Elf ever created. And her kingdom, Lórien – the place brings back so many memories. The trees spoke of Gandalf's fall. We did not know then that he would ever return." Legolas lowered his eyes in sadness.
"But he did return," I said, and his honey brown eyes looked up at me. I put my elbows on the table too and rested my head in my hands, mocking him. "And you all made it through to the end."
"Not all," Legolas corrected. "We lost Boromir."
"Tell me the whole story," I begged, "from the beginning."
So Legolas began, from every minute detail of the Council of Elrond, to the happenings of the Misty Mountains and Moria, to Lórien and beyond. His tale of Helms Deep was one of the darkest, and his ride with Aragorn, Gimli, and the rest to the Black Gate of Mordor. It was morning when Legolas finally finished, and I was in tears. He obviously had not noticed I had started crying, and when he finished and glanced at me, a look of alarm spread over his face. "Tialyn," he said softly. I looked at him and wiped my eyes, smiling.
"I just had no idea. I do not think any of us did," I said. "But now everyone will." Legolas nodded and sighed. "You have been through so much. I cannot imagine that life could possibly be the same for you now."
"It is difficult to return to the way things were, but most of us seem to be making the best of it. Aragorn got married, Gimli and I have had numerous drinking contests, and the Hobbits are handling themselves quite well; Sam keeps talking about some girl named Rosie and how he cannot wait to return home. The only one that seems disillusioned with it all is Frodo. I am not sure what will come of him," Legolas said sadly. I looked out the window, and his gaze followed mine. "You must be tired," he said, standing.
"No, I'm not tired," I replied. "I want to hear the story again." Legolas smiled and shook his head.
"I'm afraid I cannot bring myself to tell it again, but I have heard that Frodo plans on writing it down as Bilbo wrote down his adventures, so I am sure you will be able to read it all some day. But, I must take leave of you now. Today is the day I return to Mirkwood, and I must get my things," Legolas said, disheartened with the idea of returning home.
"Now?" I asked, disappointed.
"Come with me," Legolas said convincingly, stretching out his hand. I stood and took it.
"I will," I replied. Legolas smiled and let go of my hand.
"I will be back here in a short while," he said, turning to leave.
"I will wait for you here," I said. Legolas left and I began hurriedly packing my things. I wondered what a trip to Mirkwood would be like. This was crazy; I was going to visit Mirkwood with the Prince himself, and I was leaving Gondor so early. I barely knew this Elf, and I was enchanted by his story, his storytelling, and his eyes. Damn his eyes. A while later, I heard horse hooves outside of my cottage, and I ran to the door. The scene was not as I expected.
"You disappeared last night," Anathor said, sliding off his raven black horse. I gulped.
"You think I was going to take you up on your offer when I just met you?" I asked defiantly, moving a little further inside the door as he moved closer. If he was wearing the same clothes as last night I could not tell; I barely recognized him now. I must not have gotten a good look at him last night, but now I could tell how disgustingly seductive this Elf was. His long blond hair flowed down his back, and his dark, beady eyes bored menacingly into mine. He was agile, I could tell from the way he slid off his horse.
"A very wise decision," Anathor replied, bowing. This Elf was always finding an excuse to bow before me. "A prude, if you will."
"Excuse me?" I tried to sound threatening, but I must have looked petrified because he smirked at me and continued to walk closer. "I would very much appreciate it if you stayed away," I suggested.
"Oh, but I could not possibly, my lady," he replied, moving ever closer. I moved into my room, looking around and wondering if there was anything nearby I could defend myself with. Shit.
"Sir, I did not invite you into my room," I insisted as he stepped onto the threshold.
"I invite myself then – is that rude?" he grinned maliciously and took another step forward.
"I'll scream! You will not ever be allowed back into Gondor," I threatened.
"Please," he said in a sardonic tone of voice, "scream." I took another step backward to find my back pressed against the wall, nothing around me to protect myself. Anathor moved closer, fast, and within a second he was pressed against me, his face almost touching mine. I turned to avoid the repugnant odor of his breath. He put one hand around my back forcefully and pulled me closer, if that was possible. He began kissing my neck, his tongue slipping out every now and then to make contact with the back of my ears. I tried to scream but realized his other hand was covering my mouth, and the scream came out a muffled squeal. The uncomfortable, disgusted feeling tingled up my body so fast I thought I would hurl, which may have been to my benefit because I am sure that would have been quite repulsive. However, the vomit never came and I was stuck struggling against Anathor. My legs would not move so I could not set up a meeting between my knee and his crotch – he was too close and I was too revolted to even move. I tried to bite down on his hand but it was too big. I tried to squirm but he was too strong. "I like a struggle," he whispered in my ear before biting the sensitive, pointy tip. I yelped in pain. I could not escape.