"Oomph!" My face slams into wall.
Papers scatter and I bounce back, but just before the winding stair becomes a part of my face, someone flashes out and snatches my arms. I gasp and flail, but strong, calloused hands pull me stumbling forward and I gasp. As soon as I right myself, whoever it is snaps me loose, stepping back.
"Forgive me!" the man splutters. I look up in surprise, only to find that what I thought to be wall actually turns out to be leather-plated chest. I freeze, staring into sea-gray eyes.
"Please…forgive my clumsiness, my lady." He apologizes quickly, and I blink, feeling woozy.
I'm left looking stupidly then at the top of his auburn head. He stoops to the ground, hurriedly scraping the cracked parchments together. The uncut hair shorn at his shoulders dips back up again, and only when he straightens, offering a somewhat haphazard pile of paper, I realize the half-trimmed beard around his face.
He's another man.
"Oh, n-no." I stammer quickly, taking the papers back and clumsily shuffling them back into order, "…Don't apologize. Th-thanks for not letting me tumble down the stairs."
He nearly laughs, "Of course, my lady."
It takes another minute to gather the rest of the parchment from the stair, which I help him with, but thankfully, none of them seem to be damaged. The dried tears in my eyes are enough to make me sniff and keep hitting stray hairs back, scraping them together, but he doesn't stare.
Half way, the man pauses, extending a hand, and it helps me up the rest of the way.
"Boromir, son of Denethor," He bows suddenly, introducing himself, "…steward of Gondor."
"Oh." I stare an instant. Boromir? Boromir…Boromir. Huh. What a nice name.
"I'm Laine." I creak, my voice still terrible from crying. "Laine Rivers." I stop, if possible feeling more awkward than before. The brief thought to rush on with a hurried farewell passes through my head. But instead, all of Estel's brief tutelage flies out the window and I force a tired grin, sticking out my fingers.
"Pleased to meet you." Something like an intrigued smile twitches at his mouth, but he hesitantly takes my hand, which I shake vigorously, "You must be here for the counsel in the morning, right?"
His eyes start, surprised, and I kick myself.
"I mean…so am I!" I laugh, and when it squeaks again, I turn it into a cough...a tight, dubious cough. A strange moment passes, shifting from leg to leg, and though I sniff one last time, rubbing my eyes, I look up at him. He just stands there, half-smiling in a queer kind of way. I stare, crunching the papers to my chest.
His eyes are creased in the corners, steady and a stormy blue. Not so very old, but tired, maybe. His clothes have seen better days...I notice. He's handsome though, I think, and it makes me fidget again. Compared to these elves, I'm used to feeling like a toad. They're…well, elves. I suppose it's to be expected. But him…if I had to guess, he dove into the gene pool headfirst at birth.
"My apologies again for striking you, my lady." He says hesitantly, as if wondering whether to leave.
"Oh," I shake my head, dropping my eyes. "That happens all the time, don't worry. People run me over a lot."
The man's eyes flick over my clothes, lingering on the holes in my jeans, nodding in agreement. And suddenly, with a sinking feeling, I wonder if a derogatory comment or strange look is coming. I push the bangs out of my face a little nervously, tugging the strap out of my stubby braid. But it doesn't. He just shakes his head, tilting his head to one side with a tired, yet irresistible smile.
"Well, I see it must have been quite a hunting expedition, Lady Rivers."
"Hunting expedition…" I repeat a little flat, "Oh! Yes." I laugh awkwardly. "Actually, it was orc. They attacked my group on the borders of Rivendell. And I was the barely conquering prey, not hunter."
Boromir throws his head back and laughs, and I smile slightly. I think it's the first real laugh I've heard all day, even though I don't really see what's so funny. I could have died.
"I see, now." He shakes his head, sending the damp tails of coppery hair swishing over his broad shoulders. He looks so much kinder when he laughs that I smile easier. Something disturbed, deep and angry even, leaves his eyes and he lifts a hand. I wonder who he's just been talking to.
"Yet you call this place Rivendell?" he breaks in. "I believed it was Imladris, or something of the sort, to its natives."
"Oh, right." I slap my head. "But I don't come from here. I came in with…" I stop suddenly, hesitating. "the Mirkwood elves."
"Ah." The man nods, and something like a frown creases his brows together, as if reliving a particularly distasteful memory. "Then we are both strangers here."
What an understatement… Yeah, and I'm trying to get back and change for Lord Elrond's…." I hesitate, "feast?"
"Well my lady, I journey there myself." He glances around, slowly turning around to move on, but the way he came, "Only I've seemed to have lost my way. These halls are a maze. Queer folk, the elves."
I nod, agreeing completely…before he pauses suddenly, realizing what he said.
"Don't worry," I say quickly, realizing he must think I take offence. How could he know that I've been an elf for a grand total of two days? "I know. I'm not sure where I am, either. Every hall looks the same."
"In that case," he pauses, obviously amused, pleased even, before gesturing with a leather-stitched arm. "If we look for the same lost Great Hall of Rivendell then, we may as well look together."
I heft the papers higher, feeling some of the lost, lonely and miserable feelings fade, before bowing graciously and sweeping an arm in the direction I think we need to go. "We may as well, sir."
*************aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Ah…Rivendell in all its beauty, all its comforts of home!
Legolas came out in his pants, rubbing a towel through his hair. He'd spent most of the evening in a bath; the room Elrond gave him was steamed up and warm still. It emitted heady scents of soaps into the cool bedroom, and his clothes were thrown over the dark-cushioned, double bed.
He felt better than he had in weeks. Ever since the spiders and the darkness in his Homewood, this kind of openness was impossible there. Legolas glanced out the balcony doors, the vast windows letting in the last sprays of dusky light.
The elf had all the view of Imladris from here, and as he dressed for the feast and dried himself, he couldn't help wondering if his father would appreciate Rivendell like he did. His mother would have…he knew it. She would have loved the trees here. It waned in recent times, he thought as he pulled on his boots, but she would have loved the life in these woods, the light… He pushed the thought away.
Now was not the time.
A great mirror yawned atop the bureau and he stooped, re-braiding his hair. Legolas wondered if there would be merriment at this dinner. A calm before the storm, maybe. He didn't mind. Telling Rivendell of his and his people's failure to keep that wretched creature, Gollum…It sent a queasy feeling through his stomach. The one he worried about telling most was Estel…
They'd talked so often of what a miserable journey it was from Mordor to the Greenwood! What would he say now that all his toil was for naught?
Legolas shuddered.
He tied off the braid behind his ear, before slipping into a silky, silver shirt that brushed his thighs and felt good on his skin. Around this, he strapped a belt and laced guards up his forearms for the sake of formality. It was unlikely Estel would be there, at least, given his distraction with the little hobbit Legolas heard tell of. But if he did, was he expected to tell him of the creature's escape? Would Aragorn think him disloyal if he postponed it as long as possible?
Legolas sighed…watching his own reflection peer back at him. He just didn't know.
The halls were abuzz outside. He was on his way to the Great Hall. It was longer than usual since he'd been here, but he still remembered the way.
In the sheltered green of a porch, a trio of three young elleth talked together, and though it took him an instant to notice, the nearest, strikingly pretty in the violet dress she wore, caught his eyes. Legolas didn't mean to, but his pace slowed and he hesitated. In the same instant though, she nodded the others' attention to him and they dropped their voices to whispers and glances…giggles… He froze.
Oh, Elbereth…no! They hadn't heard of the curse he brought to Rivendell, surely not yet!
But in a wave of revelation, he found his worries were for nothing. Where he would have blushed probably and walked on, he paused instead. Their smiles were shy and flirtatious…not condescending.
"Elleth." He bowed hurriedly, glancing between them.
"Prince Legolas…" The nearest curtsied a little.
Legolas sighed, eyeing her. So that was it. That title and his presence here was most likely common knowledge, then. Either way, he didn't stay to exchange words. He wasn't up to carrying on a conversation with even one of the creatures, never mind three.
The great oak doors came into view and he spotted Faenor entering ahead of him. When he was nearly there though, his sharp eyes spotted a sweep of blue partially hiding behind a statue. He smiled, speeding up. Spending time in casual conversation with them was one thing, but this was another matter. She was alone and he had a double-doored escape.
And then, he realized, she was not alone...far from it.
"My lady…" He took a gracious bow, touching his heart and then sweeping away in a customary salute. It always pleased them immensely when he did this, but now it was a sign of respect.
"Lord Legolas." Arwen smiled warmly. It was a long time since he'd seen it. "I was hoping to see you here. I heard of your arrival."
"Yes…" he agreed, glancing wryly behind him. "So has the rest of Imladris, it would seem."
"I will try to keep them from you, Legolas." She laughed a little, before gesturing. "And you are just in time. Perhaps, while you are here…" she dropped her voice, "you could coax our guest into join the feast?"
Legolas looked up, smiling slightly…before his smile froze.
Blue-green eyes looked at him, arms folded around herself, back against the wall. A stone statue barred his view some, but there was no mistaking that expression…Impossible.
"I must greet the guests." Arwen nodded to him, ignoring his stunned expression, before sweeping away in a whisper of silk on stone. She cast an odd glance over her shoulder though, one that made Laine's eyes drop to the floor.
Slowly, Legolas stepped forward, one boot in front of the other, like he edged around a slumbering goblin.
"I didn't know you were so polite..." She said quietly, a little sarcastic.
"Lady Rivers." He wasn't sure if he was shocked, pleased, or angered at the expression that crossed her silly face, like she tasted something sour, but he was too busy staring to care.
The dirt, tangles and twigs were gone from her hair, clean and shining fringe that fell so often in her eyes was tied or swept back. The rest tumbled down her neck in tousled waves. Where had she gotten all that?
The midnight blue dress hung strangely low around her shoulders though, and when she shifted a little, uncomfortable, it confirmed his suspicion... The dress was too big. It drew his eyes to the small, dewdrop necklace sparkling and dancing just above the bare curve of her chest. He stared.
"What…the great Thranduilion wordless?" She widened her eyes in mock amazement. Dark paint like he'd never seen before framed them, smudged into shadow. Strange… It didn't really matter though, because he never guessed under all the blood, dirt, and tears there was really a woman there.
"I…simply did not recognize you." He excused himself finally. "…before."
"A mouthful, that." She smiled, folding her arms tighter. The movement caused the gem against her skin to dance and sparkle, and he didn't mean to glance at it.
"What…" he repeated, managing to reign in his nerves. Why hadn't he expected it? After all, Lord Elrond asked no other than his daughter, the Evenstar, most beautiful of all Eldar, to help her.
Well…he decided ruefully…it was good she'd managed to do something with the thing.
"Thranduilion," she smirked, eyes still down.
Sweet Eru… He whipped his head up, "Who told you that name?" Legolas snapped.
She blinked, but didn't flinch. "Oh, i-it's all right." Laine shrugged, and it was that scoff which was indeed Laine Rivers again. "It isn't that terrible a name."
Legolas wasn't ashamed of it, but he didn't like this turn of events. He shook his head, looking away…before staring at the thing warily. "Then, you know?"
He didn't know why he cared that even Rivers knew this title, but a small place, very deep and very far down…did. At least her disrespectful, frustrating and brash treatment of him was real. Who knew what she'd be like now that she knew he was a prince?
Laine squinted, confused, "About your name? Of course, Lord Elrond said it."
Then…it struck him. This woman didn't even know Thranduil, lord of all Greenwood was king! He narrowed his eyes, peeved. What elf in Arda wouldn't recognize his father's rule? Unless she spoke the truth before, about being of another world, not even a true child of Eldar…
The thought was too confusing to keep long, and he shook his head, straightening.
"No…never mind." Legolas gestured to the door, only a little impatient. "Well, do you plan to enter, or do you plan to malinger in the halls until they evict you for loitering? You heard Arwen request your presence in the hall."
Laine laughed at his first question, but to his surprise, she shrunk back a little at the last. "No, I…I don't think so."
"Lord Elrond has requested it." Legolas shifted on his feet, "…though I know not why. Still, you are a guest in his house, and it is only proper to obey."
"I'm not going in there."
"Why?"
"I look ridiculous."
He squinted, looking her up and down. There was nothing strangely wrong with her to the naked eye, except perhaps the shortness of her hair.
Legolas folded his arms. "Lady Rivers, I am not standing here for the duration of the evening. Do you plan to enter, or not?"
"Not."
"Very well." He nodded, shifting back. He wasn't going to let that…thing, ruin his evening. "Stay out here, but you'll not likely eat if you won't come out."
Legolas only cast one more look before spinning around, waving a brief farewell and striding through the doors. A part of him was glad. If she wasn't there at the feast, then he wouldn't be tempted to stare at her, watching to see how much of the Laine he knew was under that silly dress. The elves of Imladris would notice.
"You didn't manage to convince her?"
Legolas looked up, before shaking his head overly sadly. "My apologies. She would not be swayed."
Arwen's dark eyes dropped a little, watching him, before sighing. "Thank you for trying in any case, Legolas. Please, join the guests...and enjoy yourself."
Roast meat and ale were brought into the great hall. They pushed great oak tables together to make one, and lanterns lapped at the ceiling and stone columns in flashing, bright yellow light. Veil-draped archways led out into the night, and as the breeze stirred them, glimpses of starlight flickered through. The hall was amass in a cacophony of murmuring voices and clattering dishes; the smells were overwhelming. The dwarves, Legolas noticed with a dark glance though, were the loudest of all.
"A seat, my lord?" Faenor stood out of his chair as Legolas came up beside.
"Have you seen Estel?" he whispered, glancing around. The man was nowhere in sight…but you never could tell. Legolas cursed the day his foster brothers taught him so well. That Dunedain was light on his feet like an elf.
"I have not." The captain blinked in surprise, and Legolas sighed.
"Good."
"Please tell me you are not still afraid of telling him, Legolas." Faenor said in a murmur, using his name for once. They settled into their seats opposite the Gondorian men.
"I simply have not the desire to, Faenor. There is a difference." Legolas traced his wineglass with a finger, shifting in his seat…before admitting. "Well, perhaps not. But anyway, he is not here and I have not avoided telling him."
"No… Only avoided him."
Legolas shot a dark glance. "Do you see the venison near your plate?" He nodded a little, and Legolas looked away pointedly. He could use his mouth for something useful, at least.
Grins came from the Gondorian men then at the roast boar brought through the doors, but they kept throwing furtive glances to the elves giving it. Legolas nearly smiled. What did they think they'd do? Their nervousness was more entertaining than the strumming lyres and distant songs filling the starlit night.
"Look, Pip!" came a high, hushed voice then, and Legolas started. "…Greenwood elves."
Halflings, periannath, Legolas realized. There were three of them, another dark haired one beside them. He was talking to a redheaded dwarf Legolas recognized from years ago: Gloin... Ah, yes! He was one of the thirteen who set out on that gods-forsaken journey to the Lonely Mountain. The one named Sam, staring at Legolas with wide, brown eyes quickly dropped them when the elf noticed though.
"Halflings." Legolas stated, setting his knife down and taking a sip of wine. "You are a long way from home, are you not?" The shire was many weeks' journey from here. They must have come with the one named Frodo.
"Aye, master elf, we are!" Pippin said through a mouth of food, with a cheerful smile that made his face look lopsided.
With another glance, a little curious, Legolas noticed the surreptitious looks thrown their way from the one called Sam. The third—he didn't know his name—chatted endlessly with Frodo and the dwarf. What interesting creatures they were, though! He'd never actually seen halflings with his own eyes, before Bilbo the burglar… The memory of the little hobbit made him smile.
And suddenly, the double-doored entrance was filled with a man. Legolas looked up with just his eyes, looking at him through his water glass. And not just any man, but the incorrigible man of Gondor, son of Denethor.
Legolas narrowed his eyes.
He had the privilege of meeting him earlier. The man seemed to believe, in no uncertain terms, that the woodelves were doing even less to fight the dark forces of Mordor than their kin. Legolas hadn't had the force of will to explain the years they'd battled fiercely not just goblins, but yrch and spiders from their Homewood. How their troops were attacked constantly, the ellon and elleth who died every year protecting the king's stronghold. He doubted the man would care…. Even the memory left a distasteful taint in his mouth.
Then, the elf realized the man was not alone. He had a woman with him…Laine Rivers? A little hesitant maybe, but he nodded to the feast and back again, and with another encouraging word, she reluctantly followed him to their seats.
Legolas frowned. How typical.
"Friends, visitors from afar…" Elrond spoke from the head of the table, and a respectful hush fell over the table. Boromir took the seat opposite Legolas and one down, Laine beside, but only because the seat was reserved for him and there was no other. She settled next to the hobbits, and with a surprised grin, stared at their pointed ears and curly, thick hair. Legolas looked away, glad for the distraction.
"Some of you have travelled long. Take comfort here, and in what hope there is. Enjoy the hospitality of the Last Homely House!"
After that, Legolas didn't plan to stay long. The food was delicious, cooked to perfection, but it couldn't outweigh the company sitting across from him.
"…you're-you're not dwarves, then?"
Legolas glanced up, and across the expanse of table, Rivers was staring wide-eyed at the one called Pippin.
"Dwarves?" he laughed, wiping his mouth. "Oy, no. We're hobbits!"
"Hobbits…"
"From the Shire?"
"I…I've never heard of the Shire." She whispered, before grinning. "I've never seen a hobbit either!"
"Don't feel bad. Not a great many have, you know."
"Well, I'm Laine." She extended a hand, and ignoring the butter he rubbed off on his pants, the hobbit excepted and they shook.
"Peregrin Took," he grinned. "Pippin."
"Nice to meet you, Pippin." She smiled, before asking curiously. "Your accent, is that Welsh or something?"
"Accent?" he blinked.
"Oh!" Laine laughed, before shaking her head. "Middle earth…right, never mind. My bad."
Legolas resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
It was obvious the hobbit was confused, but he laughed with her anyway. Laine knew it, judging by the relief shining in her eyes. They then proceeded to introduce each other by name, nickname, and soon by family history. It would seem the hobbit he didn't know was called Merry. It also seemed one of them inherited his strange ways from a Faerie ancestor. The idea nearly made Legolas laugh, but he kept his head down, pretending not to listen.
Soon, he realized the conversation had shifted course. He was only glad the man named Boromir stayed out of it, more focused on conversing in whispered murmurs with his captain.
"-Yeah, it's kind of complicated." Laine muttered in response to a questioning Merry. "I came in with Thranduilion and his entourage, but I'm not really from anywhere."
"You mean you wander? Who's Th…thranduilion?"
"Kind of." She shrugged, pointedly ignoring Legolas' direction when she dropped her voice. He wouldn't have heard the whisper with mortal ears, but he couldn't help it now. "That's his highness over there."
"Highness?" they whispered more loudly, and a smile quivered at Legolas's mouth. He hastily took a swallow of wine to cover it.
"Yeah…the way he acts, you'd think he was a duke or something." Laine muttered, and beside him, Faenor began laughing in the most un-elvish way. She must have looked up, because he turned it into a convincing cough.
Legolas shielded his face with a drumstick and shot a warning look.
"I'm really not from around here, anyway." Rivers spoke up again, "I guess you could tell."
"Aye, we kind of could." Pippin agreed cheerfully…but from there, the conversation shifted to mushrooms.
"I believe I'll take my leave." Legolas said quietly to Faenor, before looking up.
Lord Elrond glanced to him from the head of the table, acknowledging his nod of approval. Arwen looked at him with a touch of concern, but he just thanked Elrond for the feast and slid out of his seat.
What a relief…
Legolas breathed a gust of clean, night air outside, and he leaned on the porch rails. Past the sheer curtains sheltering the feast, he heard the constant talk blur into the quiet murmur of distant conversation. He walked until he couldn't hear it anymore, until the twitter of night birds was the only sound that drifted to his ears, the whir of wind through stone columns.
This was what he looked forward to all evening…blessed silence. And then…
"Legolas?"
The elf froze, staring ahead.
Moonlight streamed through the open porch, and nearby, a statue of a cloaked woman knelt, extending the shards of Narsil. On a pure white bench, reading a leather-bound book, sat Estel. He was dressed in a loose, velvet tunic, calm gray eyes narrowed on him in concern.
"Aragorn…" Legolas back-stepped, heart leaping into his throat. "I believe I forgot something. I must go…now! I-"
"Legolas, stop." Aragorn set the book aside and was on his feet, reaching to stop him. "Please, mellon nin, listen to me. Wait."
What else could he do? Legolas sighed, grimacing. Aragorn quickly stepped around, placing his hands on the elf's shoulders to stop any chance of retreat. He looked him sternly in the eyes.
"You have refused to speak to me since my arrival. What has happened?"
Legolas looked away. Oh, why hadn't he stayed at the feast? He couldn't get away now!
"It is nothing. I have simply been…busy. I could not have visited you before."
"Come, Legolas. I might not be of the Eldar," Aragorn warned, "but I was not born yesterday."
"Truly, it is nothing, Estel! I am fine. We are fine. I just…need to leave over there…" he pointed weakly.
"You are avoiding me, Legolas. I fear I've offended you. Tell me what it is, that I might apologize!"
The elf dropped his eyes, suddenly feeling guilt consume him like a sinking pit in his stomach. One way or another, Estel would have to learn that he'd let his creature go. But why now?
"Legolas, I am not leaving you be until I know what troubles you."
"Stubborn Dunedain that you are..." Legolas muttered, frowning.
Estel looked at him, dropping his hands slowly from the elf's shoulders. A long minute passed, standing before each other in silence, one's eyes on the floor and the other on his friend. Finally, Aragorn spoke quietly.
"It is not something with the time of year…?"
"That has nothing to do with this." Legolas snapped, flashing his eyes up angrily.
Aragorn didn't flinch, but he looked closer. "Then what?"
"I…no, forgive me." Legolas said quietly, taking a deep breath and steeling himself.
Estel, of all people didn't deserve his ire. Legolas wouldn't admit it, but his mother's passing did have something to do with his mood. Sometimes, when the fall leaves turned color and flew to the ground, the memories caught him off guard. He would sink into them and they would consume him, just for a time, making him irritable and restless.
"Tell me." Aragorn murmured, before placing a hand on his shoulder and guiding Legolas to the bench. He didn't resist.
"I…fear I bring ill news with me." Legolas said carefully, keeping his eyes on Estel's, watching for sadness, distress, even anger. "A fortnight ago, on a moonless night, the creature Gollum escaped."
Aragorn blinked.
"It was for pity!" Legolas said quickly. "There was a tree he loved to climb, and so they let him out sometimes. The thing was so wretched, so miserable, how could we not? But one night, he wouldn't come down until even fell. His guards were attacked; many were wounded. But in the chaos, the creature escaped and we believe the yrch took him." Then, Legolas closed his fists, staring at them. "Forgive me, Estel. It was my responsibility to keep him."
A long moment passed, and Aragorn rested his chin in hand, thinking. A distant chime only broke the silence, rushing of the falls filling the air. The peaceful calm of Rivendell was trying to ease him into feeling soothed. It helped…a little. What was he thinking? Was he angry?
"Well, you are right in that the news is disturbing." Aragorn murmured finally, flicking his eyes upward. "But not dire. Is it truly what has bothered you so?"
"Of course." Legolas said, "obviously."
"I am surprised you could not simply tell me this, Legolas."
"But you travelled weeks to capture that wretched creature!" He protested.
Aragorn smiled at that. "Not every failed mission are you directly responsible for; you know this. It is an unfortunate accident, only that. Nothing more."
Well…Legolas stared…that was unexpected. But why? He thought carefully, leaning back and staring at him. It shouldn't be a surprise. Aragorn was like that, ever patient, ever giving. He took the responsibility on himself, gave it to no one. He didn't blame others. He took the problem at hand and dealt with it, worked with what he had, taking the best choice left him.
"Forgive me…"
"There is nothing to forgive, my friend."
Truly, what a king he was! His spirit swelled and he felt proud to call this man his friend.
Legolas inhaled deeply. "Thank you…Estel." He said quietly, reining in his feelings. His face didn't shift, an expressionless mask, before he smiled. "You know not what it means to hear this from you."
Aragorn glanced away and back again, the faint smile fading. "Sometimes, that is all one needs, mellon."
Legolas sighed, agreeing completely and looking out over the night scene of Rivendell. How true it was. Sometimes a moment of peace, an understanding nod or a breath of air was all he needed to ease his nerves. All of these days, weeks of worrying…gone.
"I wonder if there are other…similar, misunderstandings among us." Aragorn commented lightly then, tracing the cover of his book with a finger.
"What do you mean?" Legolas asked quietly, wary.
"I was in the Dining Hall earlier." He said, resting an arm on the back of the bench. "…I spoke with a certain Laine Rivers."
Legolas sighed. "Oh…her." He supposed he owed it to Aragorn now, not to leave at the change of subject.
"She seems to think that you-how did she put it-can't stand her?" Judging by his expression, he was on the verge of laughter.
The elf didn't answer, but he nodded slowly. "Surprisingly astute observation skills."
"I noticed." Aragorn agreed. "I'd not underestimate them, my friend."
Legolas shook his head and looked over, incredulous. "Who…her?" he scoffed. "She is a strange elleth whom I have not the patience to understand. That is all."
"What happened, Legolas? Not even Lord Elrond can discern the girl's birthplace, history, nothing. Only that she might be from afar. You must have formed these opinions quite quickly. Where did you meet?"
Legolas shifted, uncomfortable.
"Yes?" Aragorn encouraged, before folding his fingers. "I could always ask the elleth for this story, Legolas. I thought you'd prefer I hear it from you."
"No! I would…I would." He said quickly, before sighing. "We came upon her in the woods just outside of lmladris. She was dressed…strangely."
"To put it mildly."
Legolas told him of the strange weapon she fired at them, a so-called 'gun', and how he'd given it to Lord Elrond for safe-keeping. She was afraid, obviously, but he glazed over the part of the blow to his manhood. He told Estel some of the strange things she said instead, words like 'jeep', places that she said where they held no meaning, things that she shouldn't know…and yet she did.
"In all, as I've said, she is incorrigible."
"Well…" Aragorn said after a long while. "she seems to have formed fast opinions of you as well, Legolas. So I can hardly seek to judge you."
"Opinions?" He blinked. "What opinions?"
At that, Aragorn smiled mysteriously, reopening his book. Legolas stared, wondering just what that…thing, said about him. And then, he sighed in defeat. "Very well, Estel. But I feel you enjoy this too much."
Aragorn blinked, sparing him another glance, sea gray eyes innocent. "I would never, my friend. 'Tis obvious the entire ordeal has caused you much grief, and I would not think of taking amusement from your pain."
"I hope you sleep well." Legolas muttered sarcastically, before clapping the man's arm as he got to his feet. Even as he left though, his elven ears picked up the smallest laugh chuckling from the Dunedain's throat.
How cruel his friend could be, sometimes.
********************************************* aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
His mother…
I stare glumly at my plate, pushing a pool of roasted beans around in circles. Curiosity about this counsel I'm supposed to attend tomorrow can't break me out of this melancholy. Not even the happy chatter of the hobbits in my ear can.
I'm an idiot. I really am. I also think I've had too much to drink.
Somehow, I just didn't think of it... I thought he was stubborn, chauvinistic, aloof, and possibly a little mad. Could he really just miss his mother? I wonder.
"What's the matter, Laine?" comes a voice, Pippin I think. "Isn't the food any good? Mine's delicious!"
I sigh. "It's fine. It's just a little hard swallowing…" with all this guilt in the way.
Of course that isn't the end of it and he has to feel my head and my hands. 'Checking for fever', he says in that cute accent of his, and I shake my head.
"No, no…I'm fine." I look up, shaking my head and feeling guilty at the thought. He's supposedly a grown man, not cute.
"If you're feeling poorly," Sam says from beyond him. "Just let us know. Glad to help, we are."
Good Sam. Nice Sam.
And then…finally Lord Elrond gets to his feet. Arwen follows him up, and at some signal that I don't see, the elven occupants of the table leave down the hall toward a great open chamber. The rest follow, even Boromir and his soldiers. I bounce on my toes, looking over their shoulders, and I hear Gandalf as he bends closer to Frodo.
"This is the Hall of Fire," says the wizard. "Here you will hear many songs and tales…if you can keep awake. But except on high days, it usually stands empty and quiet, and people come here who wish for peace and thought. There is always a fire here, all the year round, but there is little other light."
Hall of Fire…sleeping…sounds nice. But before I have a chance to give into the urge, I whisper to Merry, I think. "I'm tired. I think I'm just going to go back to my room, if anyone asks, okay?"
"Okay…?" He looks up, before nudging Pippin with an elbow. "Have any idea what 'okay' means, Pip?" he whispers loudly.
I shake my head. "Oh, sorry. It means 'all right' where I come from. Okay?"
He apparently thinks about it, before grinning. "Okay, okay."
"I'm just gonna go talk to Legolas and go to bed."
I wave on my way out the door, already thinking about where to find the elf in order to apologize, how fast I could get back to my room, and how long it would take to get to sleep…when someone snatches my arm. I gasp, whirling around in surprise, before covering my mouth.
"Boromir…" I breathe, exhaling hard and staring up at the dark, auburn beard framing his mouth. I resist the urge not to stagger back. Focus, Laine. Focus.
"I could not help but overhear, Lady Rivers." The man dressed in a russet tunic slowly lets my arm go. "You plan to speak with the elf?"
I'm not sure why, but I drop my head, giving into the urge and shuffling back a little. His dark eyes are shadowed, and I feel a prick tingle up the back of my neck...
The rest of the group moves on, leaving us alone. Just before they disappear into the fire lit room completely though, Gandalf pauses, glancing back. I stare at him from beyond Boromir's shoulder, caught wordless for some reason, and under the shade of his gray frazzled hair, a look of warning glints through his blue eyes.
"I…I'm going to, yes." I say carefully.
"I was just wondering, Laine, how well you know this…Legolas."
I nearly laugh. "Not very well, at all. I wouldn't say 'know' is even the right word."
"But your acquainted with him…?"
I nod a little.
"How much do you think he knows about the reason all of us are here?"
I stare, looking into his bearded face and inquiring, guarded eyes. I'm not quite sure what he means, and I can't meet his stony gaze. I drop my head. "I-I don't know. I'm just kind of a…a visitor here. I really don't know anything about him, or this place, or anything."
I kick myself an instant later. I'm supposed to know all about this place! I'm supposed to have valuable information. That's why I'm here… that's why they're still keeping me around. Oh well. Maybe I can lie better later when I'm not so exhausted.
He leans back a little, studying me, as if considering telling me something I don't know. "I see…" He murmurs, and then, he bows low. "Thank you, Lady Rivers." He smiles, before taking my fingers in a small squeeze. I stare, stunned. "You have been a help."
"You're welcome," I blink, slowly dropping back. "…I-I think."
"Sleep well."
"Thanks." I whisper, before waving weakly, hurriedly making my exit. He just looks after me as I disappear into the night, leaning a shoulder on the stone column, thinking.
What was that all about? I have no idea. I break into a powerwalk to get away though, lifting my skirts and scurrying up a flight of stairs. He looked at me like a queer kind of book to read, mounds of information just waiting to be gleaned. What has he heard about me? About the mark on my arm, or Sauron's plan? The thought makes me shiver... No, that's not possible. Elrond said it was a secret. What, then…?
And so, it takes the peace and quiet that is Rivendell to calm my nerves.
I'm not sure how long I wander as the silence of night closes in. My pace slows though, and a chill falls over me. I look around, listening to the rustling leaves in the quiet night air. Rivendell is made of a latticework of porches and bridge-ways criss-crossed through the trees and lining the woods floor. Domed buildings and white, stone and wood buildings glow in the night-light, ethereal, like a village grown right from the forest.
Slowly, I rub my arms, feeling the pale blue silk on my skin rustle in the breeze. I've never felt anything like it before, the sheer, perfect material, hand-stitched I'd imagine. A long balcony, open to the sweet scented, garden air overlooks the valley and I sigh, tired and wondering where I'm going. Where could he be? In his room? Heaven knows I'm not going there, even if I knew where it was. Maybe I should just go to bed…
I look around, sighing. The very air seems close and alone here, even with the distant sound of voices drifting through the trees… And suddenly, I find who I look for.
I was starting to think I couldn't actually do it. The illusive elf seems to appear and disappear at will…and yet here he is. I freeze. There's no mistaking that soft, pale hair whisking over his shoulders in the breeze, and he looks out over Rivendell with the same kind of expression as in the woods those days ago…distant. The guards on his forearms have been tossed to a stone bench, his belt too, leaving just a loose, silver tunic hanging from his shoulders.
I stare at his back, curious.
Whether his mind is here or not, or drifting on the wind maybe, I can't bring myself to move any more. Shifting closer would be much too dangerous. Further away would draw attention to myself. All is quiet, and as I hold my arms, shuffling from one foot to the other, I wonder if I should just leave. He doesn't like me, and when I'm around him, I feel stupid…So why am I still here? Why even bother?
I fiddle with the stubby, frayed braid on my neck where I took the pins out. I study my shoes then, the ones I insisted on wearing beneath the trails of dress. Already, I feel strange wearing them. Tiny, clear flecks in the stone floor shine in the starlight though, and it distracts me. I even watch a leaf skid past, tumbling and careening over the porch ledge, only to sway back and forth on the breeze into blur… anything but him.
"Is there something you require?"
I snap my head up.
Legolas hasn't turned. He doesn't even shift, not a stir or a blink. His eyes haven't left the sky either, and my throat slowly seizes up. Suddenly, I wish I hadn't decided to come. Nothing but the vines scratching at the porch roof breaks the quiet, and I tilt my head from side to side, trying to loosen my cinched nerves.
"I-it's nothing." I whisper.
A few minutes pass, before his voice stirs the silence again. This time, it's a little less quiet, and I feel the elf pulling out of his dream-like trance. His gaze drops from the skies and focus on his folded hands. He studies them absent-mindedly. "If it were nothing, Rivers…you would not be here."
I lower my eyes, before carefully, I place one foot in front of the other. I lean on the rail, facing him, and I fidget with the stone. "I…I guess, I just wanted…" I break off.
God, what am I doing?
He says absolutely nothing, and when I trail off, he slowly turns a sideways glance. It makes me want to hide my face, so I do. I rub my eyes with my fingers.
"I…I just wanted to say I'm sorry."
This surprises him. I can tell by the shift in his eyes, an almost infinitesimal downturn to his mouth. He blinks.
"I…I'm sorry for being such a," I think about it, squirming inside, before giving into the tired, rational part of me that tells me to do it, "…a bitch."
His fingers snap closed, "A what?"
I look up, just my eyes. "A…a bitch?"
He just stares at me, and almost instantly, I want to cry out. Oh, what have I done now? I can't even apologize right? He just stares at me! Doesn't he know how hard it is to stand here? What do I have to do…beg?
Well, I won't.
"Fine!" I snap angrily, pushing from the rail and stalking past him. My voice cracks pathetically. "Be that way."
I almost trip walking away, and I curse this silly dress as furiously as his shocked, stupid face. I'm glad. I should be sleeping for that…that counsel in the morning, anyway. I shouldn't have come here in the first place! At least he doesn't see the maddening tears that swell in my eyes.
Why did I bother? Elf or not, he's just like a million others: incorrigible.
Legolas is left staring after me, stunned.
Author's Note: Many, many apologies for taking so very long on this update, but please be patient. They'll be able to come much more regularly and quickly now. I've been busy writing other things is all, and this was a very hard chapter to right. Please let me know if you'd like me to add chapter titles to these, to make things easier. Anyway, next up, Counsel of Elrond and some secrets coming to light... hope you enjoy! :)
