Hello everyone! I know it's been months since I've updated the story. It seems as though my schedule gets busier with each passing day. Lucky for me, there was a lull in my workload and I was finally able to finish this chapter (which has been raking at the back of my mind for a while now). I know this particular chapter might not do much for you guys, but I'm hoping the end of it might spark some interest (I am curious to see who can guess the the identity of the elderly man). For those of you that take note of these things, I did go back and edit my previous chapters (fixed some spelling errors, added in some elvish, etc.,). I'm hoping to find some more time soon to get back into the swing of things. In the meantime, enjoy!
As Indilwen walked down the empty corridors to her room, she allowed herself to be led completely by Voronwë's guiding arms, drifting into an elven dream. She thought of the things that comforted her: the way leaves changed color before winter, the smell of cleansed earth after a gentle rainfall, the lullaby her mother used to sing to her, Voronwë's presence, and now Pippin. Indilwen hid in her world of waking dreams whenever she needed to escape reality. Her eyes came back into focus at the sound of a soft thud. Looking around herself, she realized that Voronwë had led her back to her chambers. As he walked back from shutting the door, he motioned for her to sit down. Indilwen looked behind her to see a divan pressing at the back of her knees. She sat, still a bit shaky. She began to speak but Voronwë held his hand up in objection. She watched as Voronwë reached into a small satchel of his and pulled out a dried plant. Indilwen recognized it immediately as athelas. She was surprised that he had it, but remembered his history as a ranger led him to many a strange place and person. She looked on as he dropped the plant into a kettle full of water that had been boiling over the flames in her fireplace. She had been planning on making a tea with the steaming water but did not object as Voronwë used it for his own purposes. As the aroma of the athelas was released into the room, Indilwen found herself slowly eased of her lingering jitters. Voronwë sat again and they waited in silence for a few minutes, watching the crackling fire inattentively. Indilwen was the first to speak.
"How much did you hear?" She said quietly.
"Enough" He murmured back. Indilwen looked at the ground guiltily. Her words came sharp and fast as she muttered angrily.
"And do you also think of me as a fool? Am Inow not worthy of the title I hold?"
"Indilwen," Voronwë replied, compassion in his voice. But the elven princess didn't hear him. She was too caught up in her rant. "Indilwen," he said again, his tone sharper than before. This got her attention, and she looked at him, the threat of tears in her eyes. Voronwë kneeled in front of her and grasped one of her slender hands in both of his. Looking into her eyes earnestly, he continued. "The day I found you in that tree, I knew my loyalties remained only with you. That day I pledged my fidelity ever to you. I would follow you to any end and, though it is not my place to do so, I like to think of you as my kith and kin. I had hoped that you would know this by now," His eyes fell and Indilwen looked down at him sadly. Lifting his chin with her hand, Indilwen spoke softly, shame coating her voice like a layer of honey.
"Forgive me. It was wrong of me to doubt you. You have only ever been faithful to me and now I question whether or not I even deserve the honor of your company,"
"Question it no more. You deserve all the love you have and none of the pain." Looking up at the kettle, he moved to take it away from the flames.
"Leave it," Indilwen said quietly, putting her hand on his arm lightly, "I'll use it in a little while," Voronwë nodded and sat a bit stiffly. He sighed and sat back, for once, unsure of what to do. Indilwen, sensing his discomfort, spoke up. "You don't have to stay Voronwë. I'm alright," Indilwen gave him a quick, reassuring smile before standing and walking to the open windows on the other side of the room. Voronwë stood and turned to her.
"Your brother… he will ask questions,"
"He mustn't know," She replied quickly, a panicked tone seeping into her voice.
"And what of the others? They are sure to notice…" His voice drifted off as his gaze fell again on her now blemished skin. Indilwen, sensing his gaze, became self-conscious and turned away.
"They will heal soon enough. In the meantime, I will keep out of sight," Voronwë opened his mouth to speak, but Indilwen raised a hand. "Please Voronwë, I thank you for your kindness, but I wish to be alone," The ranger paused, a wary look on his face, but Indilwen did not move and he understood that she was dismissing him, however gently. He gave a polite, unseen bow, and wordlessly slipped away.
The next few days were lonely for Indilwen, as she made sure to keep to her quarters, and the few times she did wander, she kept to the quiet roads, a thick, hooded cloak hiding her face from inquisitive eyes. This did not, however, protect her from the shower of questions upon her "return to civilization" as Merry soon came to call it. Indilwen pushed these questions aside to the best of her ability, spinning tales of sudden wander-lust. She received many a suspicious look for them, but Voronwë soon confirmed the stories, and all was forgotten.
Meanwhile, on the western eaves of Mirkwood, a restless spirit wandered in the night. The figure stopped when he found what he was looking for: a small home seemingly built from the very nature surrounding it. The figure sneered and knocked on the moonlit door. An elderly-looking man answered, his appearance a bit rough around the edges, but doubtlessly wise. The bearded man smiled and welcomed the figure in with open arms, for they were old friends, and the two sat and talked for many hours. The old man listened patiently as the figure explained that he needed guidance in the ways of herbs, never guessing that his friend's intentions were good only to himself. The bearded man eagerly agreed, blinded by his thoughts of the figure saving him in a tight situation many years before. That night, the felicity of many was compromised by the unknowing elder, and there would be no turning back.
