It must be confessed that when Legolas' mind was disturbed and he was doing archery, everything and everyone, including Gilrael, around him went largely unnoticed. But before she could complain, she froze in awe.
As the lieutenant of Mordor, Gilrael had access to news not many in Middle Earth knew about, but while she had heard about the skill of the archer prince of the Woodland Realm, she had not expected this.
From about ninety meters away from the targets, Legolas absently nocked, pulled, and released three arrows at once, all hitting three different targets. Gilrael hadn't known that was possible.
Then she watched transfixed as he flung a rapid volley of arrows toward the targets, each arrow splitting a previous one. Needless to say, all hit the exact center.
But Legolas was not thinking about the arrows, or even his form. He was tossing in his mind the matter of Gilrael's cloak, Etrielle's disappearance, and what Arkanil or Gilrael had to do with it. There were really only two options: Arkanil was lying and a traitor or Gilrael was lying and spying out the palace.
If Arkanil was the traitor, how did he get influenced? He had served the royal family faithfully for millennia, once saving the king's own life. Though he strongly asserted that Gilrael's cloak was a deadly weapon of fear, maybe, Legolas thought, he was too strong.
Then there was the matter of Gilrael. Legolas wanted to believe she was innocent, that she had suffered enough in captivity and wanted no more of evil. But he couldn't shake from his mind the fact that she wanted her cloak back so much, and that she tried to get him to believe the cloak was harmless. If it was really harmless, why would she want it so much?
Either way, one of them was lying, and since both were so smooth and convincing, Legolas knew he would have a hard time of finding out which was the culprit. An uneasy feeling nudged him, trying to warn him, but for the first time in his life, he shook it off, unwilling to give up that beautiful elleth he knew was innocent for a deceitful monster.
"LEGOLAS!" The prince's grip fumbled, and the arrow fell to the ground. He looked up, scowling, at the person who had called his name. Falluen, a close friend of Legolas', was striding quickly towards him.
"That was the fifth time I called, mellon! Now, what is on your mind?" Legolas stared at him. "How did you know something was on my mind?" Falluen grinned, glancing back at Gilrael, who was gaping at the prince.
"You never leave a maiden on the field unattended to like that." Annoyed at being interrupted from his routine, the prince couldn't help but snap, "She can entertain herself."
Falluen's grin widened. "Oooh. This will be good." He flinched under Legolas' glare. "Alright! I'm sorry!" The prince shook his head. "Well, what is it?"
Falluen sighed. "Apparently Firlowen has other things to do, so I'm serving as messenger. Arkanil wanted you and, ah, the lady to meet him in the arena." Legolas frowned. "He wants to practice sword fighting?"
Falluen shrugged. "How am I supposed to know?" Legolas accepted his arrows from the collector, and declared, "You are a terrible messenger." "Luckily that is Firlowen's job."
Legolas strode to Gilrael, who hadn't shot a single arrow. He gently told her, "I apologize that you did not get the chance to practice, but Arkanil invited us to the arena." Her wide eyes softened as she smiled coyly. "I don't mind. Your archery is better than mine anyways. Way better. It was a pleasure to watch."
Legolas stared at her for a moment before lamely saying, "Thank you." He took off, Falluen and Gilrael on his heels.
As they whisked through the halls, Legolas struggled with confusion. Why did Gilrael seem to be checking him out, making him so nervous? She was supposed to be under his scrutiny, not the other way around. He hated people who made him nervous.
"Watch out!" Something yanked him backward, and he toppled to the ground on top of Falluen. But not before he saw what he nearly tripped on. A black fox, accented with ashy streaks.
The arena was a circular enclosure surrounded in a semi-circle by buildings and the other half by trees. The floor was well-packed dirt, with a golden fence surrounding it. There were a few seating areas for spectators, but they were usually empty.
That day, Thranduil occupied it, absently sharpening his silver sword when the young elves walked in. He glanced up, and to their surprised faces, announced, "I thought I'd take a break from overseeing the searches for Etrielle. I will be gouging your levels of skill, and may have a round myself. Falluen, go clean your mess in the stables. No, do not give me that look. I know it was you."
Falluen shot Legolas a disappointed look, and slowly dragged his feet away. "Pick up your steps!" Thranduil hollered. Falluen rolled his eyes and daintily walked off.
Gilrael observed the room with her wide, brown eyes, taking in everything. She slowly followed Legolas toward the ring, where he dumped his quiver and arrows on a bench, threw open the gate to the ring, and whipped out his sword. She remarked, "Quaint room. Where are the weapons?"
Legolas marched to the stone wall, pressed it, and it slid to the side, revealing a neat rack of swords and spears. Gilrael hesitated at the gate into the ring. Thranduil called out, "Feel free!" Odd. The king was more welcoming than the prince.
As she made her way to the wall, Legolas made his way in front of his father. Leaning against the fence, he asked, "Where is Arkanil?"
Thranduil leaned back, and with his rare talent, made the stone bench seem as grand and comfortable as his throne. "It is rather odd. He left just before you arrived, saying something about a black fox." In Legolas' peripheral vision, he noticed Gilrael freeze.
Thranduil shook his head. "In my opinion, he seemed quite eager to follow it immediately lest it get out of his sight. I do not know what is going on in my kingdom these days." He sighed wearily.
Apparently, Gilrael's fears were assuaged when Arkanil sauntered in, the black fox nowhere to be seen. What exactly she was afraid of, Legolas could only guess.
Arkanil swiftly entered the ring. "Ah, good. Gilrael, I have heard of your expertise in the art of swordsmanship, and I wanted to see for myself. You have picked out a sword?"
Gilrael nodded. "It's very light." Legolas raised an eyebrow. Elven swords are light, yes, but not very light, especially for an elleth.
Arkanil motioned to Legolas. "Do you mind Legolas testing you first?" Gilrael raised an eyebrow, but shook her head. "No, I don't mind. But in this dress?" Legolas watched Arkanil's face carefully as a curious, or mischievous, glint swept over his eyes.
"In that dress," Arkanil affirmed. Gilrael stared at him, then blinked. "Okay." She turned to the prince. "Legolas, do not go easy on me. I'm sorry if I hurt you."
She certainly looked odd, with the long, slightly curved sword of the Elves and a flowing gown with long, hanging sleeves. Legolas wondered how she was supposed to fight. Surely she couldn't have fast maneuverability, especially with slippers on.
But he quickly discovered her attire made her look grander as she sparred him. Every time she twirled, the cloths rippled in the wind. Every time she raised her arms, the sleeves danced. And the whole time, her face beamed, glowing with beauty, and triumph, for the rumors, as far as Legolas was concerned, were true.
She was no match for him, even when he realized she was merely toying with him. Then he got mad. He thrust harder, jabbed fiercer, into thin air, because every time, she either stepped, ducked, or twirled gracefully out of the way. Her style was one Legolas had never seen before. A mix of elegance, spattered with heavy attacks. Deadly.
Gilrael made him work. A kick to the legs, a tap on his shoulder, a punch to the stomach, even a flick on his cheek. How in Arda did she defend his attacks with only one hand?
Finally, when Legolas' face was flushed and would have been sweating furiously had he been a Man, Gilrael gave him a dramatic shove to the back, sending him sprawling to the ground, and causing him to bite his lip in pain from all of his bruises. How he hated this mutant of a friend.
Thranduil sat up straight, glaring. This young lady had defeated his son as effortlessly as if she was playing, without a single speck of dust on her gown. But that wasn't what made him angry. He had realized with horror her strange, deadly style, one he had witnessed kill his own father. It was Sauron's, which meant Gilrael had been trained by the Dark Lord, and had apparently inherited his strength.
Before he knew it, Thranduil had his sword in his hand, and he was in the arena. Legolas was groaning, and he suddenly felt an urge to swoop his son up into his arms, like he did when he was an elfling. And before Serilna got killed. But that would have been inappropriate, and Legolas would hate him even more.
The king directed his withering glare toward Gilrael, who glanced at him with a smirk, then suddenly executed a flying kick into his chest. He was staggered, but flew at her angrily, for his and his son's sake.
As Arkanil helped Legolas stand, his stomach churned. How had Gilrael defeated him so…easily? Legolas knew he was a bad swordsman, but he wasn't that bad. Something was, obviously, amiss.
He painfully made his way over to a bench, and stretched while watching his father…lose. Gilrael wasn't smiling now, and looked like she was actually focusing, but still managed to beat the king up. Legolas winced every time she made contact, remembering his own bruises, while Arkanil's glare deepened.
"I'm going to kill her," he growled. Legolas glanced up at the general, who was standing with clenched fists, and saw he was dead serious. "Don't you think that is a bit drastic?"
Arkanil narrowed his eyes. "That girl has been training with Sauron, Legolas. Nothing is too drastic for her."
He yanked his sword out of its sheath as Gilrael twisted Thranduil's wrist, making him cry out in pain and send his sword flying. Mercifully, she didn't throw him to the ground like she did with Legolas.
Arkanil marched into the ring, picking up Thranduil's sword. He snarled, "I get two, you get one." Then, without warning, he faked left and swiped right.
Legolas watched guards help his father out, then he watched the fight carefully. He had noticed something neither the king nor Arkanil had seen. Gilrael's eyes, once a beautiful deep brown flecked with gold, were now black, but ablaze with fury and deep hatred, like evil itself. Legolas had seen that look on her before, the first time she met Thranduil, when she had lost control of herself and had attacked the prince with a strength not her own.
Horror dawned on him as he realized this, and he leapt to his feet and rushed into the ring, tackling Gilrael to the ground. Taken by surprise, she offered no resistance, but her well-trained hands stayed firmly grasped around her sword's hilt.
Arkanil froze mid-swing, still glowering at Gilrael. As Legolas slowly stood, he shot the general a glare. "Attack a lady, would you, with two swords against one?" Arkanil looked at him with unbelieving eyes. "Legolas, her strength is not natural, even for one of the Eldar. It is of a powerful Maia. Like Sauron." Legolas glanced down, where Gilrael was panting heavily, thoroughly exhausted, but eyes back to normal.
"Arkanil, I do not know what to think right now. The way you fought her, almost animal-like, in such a wild frenzy…" Legolas shook his head. The general sheathed his sword, and strode toward the gate. "Your suspicion is misplaced, Legolas. I fought her the way I would have fought Sauron, and I am injured like the way I would have been had I fought him." As Arkanil was about leave, he turned slightly. "Take care of her, but it would not be wise to let her stay here much longer, especially with that lack of self-control."
Legolas crossed his arms. "Oh, so you want me to send her to Imladris? I am sure Lord Elrond would be thrilled." Arkanil didn't even crack a smile. "No, I was thinking further north. To the Rangers." He swept out of sight while Legolas muttered, "Right. And I'm the king of Gondor."
He turned to Gilrael, who had managed to turn onto her back, but was now laying on the dirt like a dead fish, arms splayed to the side. He hovered over her uncertainly until she whispered, "You see why I apologized beforehand. Are you badly hurt?" Legolas crouched next to her. "Not really. Just unusually spent and very much bruised. Can you stand?"
She didn't even have to think. "No. I'm utterly worn out. Can you, perhaps…can you carry me?" Legolas stared her limp form, a body weak from overuse, but still graceful and shapely. Could he carry her? Of course. Did he want to carry her? More than he realized. But there was no way he would risk dropping her in his current shocked and distracted state.
"You want me to carry you? I should have servants-" "No, Legolas. I want you." Legolas' heart fluttered, but he milked it even more. "What if I drop you?" "You won't. I trust you." How he relished those words.
"What if I don't feel comfortable carrying you?" Gilrael cracked open her eyes, a smile playing at her lips. "Then don't." Legolas gave up. "Fine. You win." She closed her eyes peacefully. "Tell me something I don't know."
Legolas took a deep breath, and threaded his arms under her back and knees, gently lifting her off the ground, her head resting on his shoulder. She was lighter than he expected.
As he walked out of the arena into the hallway, he ordered a young servant, "Please gather my weapons and bring them to my room." She looked twice at him carrying Gilrael and raised an eyebrow, but bowed and disappeared through the doorway.
Guards and various palace servants stared at Legolas as he passed them, and he knew the daily gossip would be about him. Sighing, he resigned himself, knowing it was inevitable as long as Gilrael was around. And no matter what Arkanil had advised him, he was determined to let her stay.
Legolas was about to go down the steps to the royal chamber hallway, but he caught a glimpse of something furry and black scamper by. Gilrael immediately sat up, causing Legolas to stumble slightly and adjust his arms. By the time Gilrael settled and he looked back, the fox was gone. A coincidence, maybe, but it was too suggestive for Legolas to believe. He was convinced Gilrael was trying to hide that fox from him, but why?
