Blood-Red Rose for Legolas
ElveNDestiNy
Note: In this story Elves sleep as humans do, with eyes closed. Four hours (as Tolkien explains) is enough. This is a deviation from canon. To be honest, I think that sleeping with your eyes open is creepy and scientifically illogical. Some animals and birds do sleep with one eye open but in humans, sleeping with your eyes even partially open can lead to damage to your corneas. Eyelids are designed to protect our eyes and blinking keeps them from drying out. In any case, I'm aware this isn't canonical, so please refrain from comments telling me so.
Chapter 12: Poison Antidote
Sariel slipped through the night, accompanied only by the dark shape by her side. She could not fathom why the wolf had chosen to be with her, but she was glad of his presence all the same. The wolf's sharp intelligence had surprised her at first, yet over the last few months, she had come to admire Kaeloriel greatly. There was an understanding between them now, and when she looked into his golden eyes, she knew that they were two predators in different forms.
Kaeloriel's keen nose would help her in her search for the herb. The only worry Sariel had was that he did not know what she was looking for, and she had no way of showing him. She tried her best to convey the idea to him when he found a plant similar to the one she looked for, and was slightly reassured by the way he acted, as if he understood.
She wondered again why he was helping them at all. He had left his pack while his mate struggled to lead them through a hard winter, an unusual action whether he was truly a wild wolf, or something more, as she suspected. So why had he come with them and how was he associated with Belderon? In all her years, Sariel could not remember Belderon having anything to do with natural animals. Possessed with instinct, they fled from him and the lands around his fortress.
Even now, the forest around them was silent, more dead than alive. She focused on looking for the jagged-edged leaves of silphieron, the plant that would counter the poison in Lianderthral's body. She had found it in this forest before, but never easily. Still, the mere fact that an antidote was available made her question why Belderon had used a non-fatal poison on the chain. But remembering Belderon's initial use of the chain, she understood.
He had meant it for Lessena. He probably had the antidote himself, but if Sariel's sister had been drugged, she would have been even more complaisant, and it would have made any rescue attempt harder. As it was, Lianderthral had barely made it out.
Although guilt and worry still ate at her, the thought gave her some hope, because it meant that Belderon wanted Lessena alive, at least for now. She would likely be severely punished for her trick in sealing both of them inside the room, but Belderon valued her too much as a bargaining chip to simply kill her, especially since Sariel was still free.
Ahead, small red berries caught her eye and she ran up to a plant with dark green leaves. When she bent down for a closer look, however, she found that it was silphieron's larger, distant relative, the holly bush. Kaeloriel sniffed the plant and encouraged, she tried to impress on him that the herb she was looking for was similar in appearance and probably scent. Disappointed that she had not yet found it, she moved on again to the banks of one of the several small streams that cross the forest. The plant generally grew near water, between the rocks that lined the brooks and creeks, but it was small. Knowing exactly how much Lianderthral needed it only increased the desperation of her search.
People had died because of her. Rationally, she knew that she had directly caused death many times and would likely do so again, and yet emotionally, she could not handle the thought of Lianderthral dying for nothing—dying because of her foolish endeavors, because he was good and wanted to save a stranger. The knot of worry and fear in her stomach grew bigger as she realized that even if he survived this, there was still a high likelihood that any association with her would only end badly for him. She could not stand the thought of it. She could not apologize for what she had done—on some level, she did not believe that she should—but if Lianderthral died tonight, it was as good as if she had poisoned him herself.
No, even if she lost Lessena for it, she would not contribute to his death.
As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Sariel stopped in her tracks, shocked to find that she truly meant it. It was not a fleeting whim. It was a decision that she had already made, ever since she had felt her mother die. She would not kill for Belderon again, even if the cost was her sister's life.
Turning this over in her mind, she felt cold and small, as if she had betrayed even her deepest principles. She had focused her life around the protection of her mother and sister, believing that it gave her a justification for what she had done. But without that, what was left? If she was unwilling to trade Lianderthral's life for Lessena's, then nothing she had done in the past made sense.
Kaeloriel's growl broke her out of the trance she had fallen into and Sariel realized that she had come to a standstill, so caught up in the implications of her thoughts that she had stopped actively searching. The wolf nudged her leg with his nose, acting almost dog-like, but she barely noticed.
Her newfound revelation made her stomach churn with mixed feelings. Sariel knew what Lessena would have wanted; her sister would never have approved of Sariel's activities for her and Lorianiel's sake. In fact, Sariel had never been sure of exactly how much Lessena knew about all. Lorianiel had certainly understood what her elder daughter had become, but Sariel had never known if her mother had shared that knowledge with Lessena, or decided to spare her younger sister of that particular burden.
Lorianiel's voice seemed to whisper in Sariel's ear even now, bitterness lacing every word. It's hard enough to live, knowing that your life is sustained on the deaths of others.
When her mother had told her that, Sariel had simply raised her chin, looking Lorianiel straight in the eyes and challenging her to deny that she still wanted to live, no matter how awful that life was, no matter how selfish that desire. They had never spoken of it again and Lorianiel had continued to live. Evidently, she had valued her life too much as well. After all, the same blood, the same inner strength that flowed through Sariel's veins had been in her mother's, although the years had eventually worn her down until her spirit began to fade. But Lorianiel's bitterness and guilt had remained with Sariel, always lurking in the areas of her memory that she least wanted to acknowledge.
Perhaps that was why, even as she ostensibly followed Belderon's commands in order to keep her family safe, Sariel had still begun to distance herself from Lorianiel and Lessena. Part of her wanted more than anything to see them, to even join them in their imprisonment. Another part of her, the part that had allowed her development into an assassin, betraying all the principles of her race, had kept her away. She had fought to keep them alive and yet had lost something in her success.
In a way, Lianderthral meant more to her. She had ended up killing strangers in order to save other strangers. Lessena had been a mere child when Belderon had torn their family apart, whereas Sariel had been entering adulthood. Though they were sisters, they had almost nothing in common. Their experiences were vastly different and visits had been limited, with Belderon's ever-watchful eye curtailing any bond they might have developed. In the first years of Sariel's training, Belderon had kept them completely separate—first, to encourage Sariel to greater devotion, using her family as her reward, but also, paradoxically, to force her to learn the necessary emotional detachment required for her kind of work.
So Sariel had become almost religiously dedicated to Lorianiel and Lessena, making them the reason for everything, yet without any real reason to do so. It kept her sane when she might have slipped too far. There was a goal to all the killings, other than simply Belderon's whim: Sariel had a purpose, and that was to keep the only two beings connected to her, in whatever way, alive.
Now she faced the terrifying realization that there was no purpose at all.
Kaeloriel turned curious golden eyes to her when she shivered and hesitated, the sound of the rush of blood in her ears accompanied by lightheadedness. Sariel briefly closed her eyes and then opened them to continue looking for the plant with jagged-edged leaves. She could not ignore the coldness that crept through her, the fear that the last little bit of her world had broken down.
It had not been in the moment when she had found she could not quite kill the prince of Mirkwood as ordered. It was not even in the haze of pain and hurt in the days that followed, or even in the feeling of life slipping away as her mother had finally died. It was not love that had stopped her from killing Legolas, but rather hesitation.
But now, Sariel was no longer unsure. Somehow, between her experiences with Legolas and Lianderthral, she had given up something she had lived by for her entire life. She had never fooled herself into believing that her actions were right. But she was willing to do wrong, because if she had the means and the power to save her mother and sister, she was willing to put them ahead of strangers she did not know.
Only, who were the strangers? Even if she did not know Lessena, she could not simply let go, and yet that was what she wanted to do. But had she really changed so much that she could watch her sister die because she was simply unwilling to kill again? She had done it so many times before. A month ago, she would never have had a doubt. Even when she had found out that her target was Legolas, she had still resolved to carry out the assassination and nearly succeeded. She would have done anything to prevent harm from befalling the two people she still had a connection with. But now… Now nothing was as clear as before.
She still wanted freedom. She still wanted everything that had been denied to her because of Belderon's interference in their lives. But even wanting it, she was conscious of the price for it. She was beginning to see that even for her, there were some limits.
Legolas had been one, she realized now, and Lianderthral, another. For whatever reasons, despite whatever the consequences, she could not let them die. She simply could not. Not even at the expense of my own life?
Once she had asked the question, she could not take it back. Sariel held herself stiffly in the chill night air to stop herself from shivering, her arms folded tightly against her chest as if to hold herself together. She took a deep breath and exhaled in a white puff, renewing her focus on the true task ahead of her.
Everything else could wait. She could not let herself be distracted by thoughts when other things were so much more important. What use was it to think about what it meant for her to be unwilling to let Lianderthral die, if he did so anyway because of her failure to make the antidote?
Kaeloriel had disappeared to explore other areas but now came bounding back, only to stop a few feet away from her. To her shock, his black fur rose up and he bared his teeth to her, a low snarl coming from his throat. She saw the wolf tense and a thrill of fear ran up her spine, her body tingling as if little needles were pricking her skin. Before she had even taken another breath, Kaeloriel leapt at her and she found herself on the ground. But she hardly saw the wolf; all her attention was directed inward and she lost consciousness under the pressure of the disorienting fears and memories churned up from her mind.
"Belderon," she choked out as soon as she woke. He was there, brutally invading her mind, the onslaught on her identity making her whimper. She was curled on her side, knees coming up to her chest and both hands to her head as if trying to tear him out of her mind. But she could do nothing to stop him. The vial of blood at her throat burned both hot and cold; her hand came down blindly to touch it, the ultimate proof of her continuing bondage to him. It was a sharp, throbbing agony against her throat.
So, little pet, you came back to your master after all. Ready to sing, my nightingale?
Even in her mind, his voice was as calm and self-assured as it always was, but now his words were edged by a cutting sarcasm. She felt almost as if he was burning her, but the sensation was worse than any physical pain. She could endure that, but no amount of training could lessen the effect of his control.
But it did provoke other things from her. Like a trapped animal, she lashed out, trying to hurt him even though she only hurt herself. He had always enjoyed taunting her and although she had heard all of it many times before, Sariel could not help her response. The basic instincts of anger, defiance, and fear had defined her for so long that sometimes she wondered if she could ever feel anything else.
Kaeloriel kept growling and dimly, she was aware that he was on top of her, paws digging into her ribs and teeth only a few inches from her exposed throat, but the wolf was not interested in taking her life. There was nothing for him to attack, only a phantom presence in her mind.
Your sister surprised both of us, did she not? I am pleased to see some fire from her. I have always wished that she were a little more like you.
"She will never be like me," Sariel stated as coolly as she could, fighting for some semblance of equality. "What do you want from me?"
Belderon ignored the question. She felt his pleasure in her pretense. They both knew that even though she had walked free, the blood-oath still bound her to him, slave to master. Oh, your sister is sweet indeed. Perhaps too sweet, even, but you have no need to worry. I have treated her like royalty, as if she were a princess…of Mirkwood.
Beneath his pretty words was the ugly reminder of what had happened to Legolas's sister, Rhiannon. Her defilement and death had set so much into motion, creating endless echoes of pain and grief from that one initial crime. So many years later, Sariel and her family were the ones still suffering in the Belderon's web, despite never having known any of those first involved. Who was Rhiannon to her but a ghost from the past?
Yet the gift of clear memory that all Elves possessed, like all gifts, could also be a curse. Belderon let the visions—his, not hers—flash through her mind, each lasting only a few seconds but coming relentlessly at her. Kaeloriel's growl turned into a questioning, worried whine. The wolf backed away from her as if he were caught between the fear of what he could only sense and his desire to attack it. Clenching her fists by her sides, Sariel slowly stood up, trying her best to clear her mind of Belderon's memories of Rhiannon. They still came anyway and she shook uncontrollably under the onslaught of vivid images.
There was a broken princess. Images flashed before Sariel's eyes, of blood that had dried over bruises and battered flesh. A body left limp and pale in death, the expression on her swollen face one of terror, not peace. A king fallen on his knees in recognition and denial. Faces twisted before her, turning grotesque. The evidence was brought forth of the unspeakable crime, the violation of the soul that had caused her death more thoroughly than the wounds from the stabbings.
He had been horrified. Sariel felt that much, knew that much—that at first, Belderon had been as horrified as the others. But his devotion to his son had outweighed the horror, and even in the course of a few hours, he had made a decision that he could never take back. His horror had turned into resolve.
More images, all soundless—now Faledin knelt before two figures that were on side-by-side thrones. Without hearing the words, Sariel knew that they were unrepentant and challenging. Even as the body lay before him, now mercifully covered with a black shroud, he denied his guilt.
Sariel knew what was coming, just as well as Belderon did: the sentencing to death by execution. The king would demand a life for a life, a child for a child.
Then she—Belderon—was striding forward toward the golden king in defense of his son, while all around, the horrified silence of the court gave way to the sound of tears. Slowly, a darker undercurrent began to build. Sariel felt Belderon's despair—then the blinding moment when Faledin died before his father's eyes—
And there was blood and dead, staring eyes, the same color as his mother's…a vivid grey that looked as if stars had been trapped in the irises. Afterward… afterward, there was just an emptiness that somehow had weight, the meaninglessness of life taking on an active power over him as the court began to recover from the tragedy.
It was almost an instinctive thing too, Belderon's revolt against his king…but there was an inkling of regret, of doubt. Sariel caught her breath, taken back to a time when Belderon had been no more than a lord grieving for his son's death, not yet evil as she had always thought of him, but just another victim…
Who turned all the pain and rage outward, not inward, and began to kill others…
—then Sariel snapped back into herself, Belderon cutting off the torrent of memories so abruptly that her stomach tried to rebel from the sudden dislocation.
When had she fallen back down to her knees? But there she was, the ground cold and wet beneath her, her palms sinking into the dirty slush of snow. She had learned more about Belderon in those few seconds than in all of the centuries she served him. What she had found scared her more than anything else could have, because she was like Belderon. Whether it had been intentionally done or otherwise, Belderon had replicated for her most of the things that had changed him into what he was now. History kept spiraling around her in endless loops, layers and layers of circular patterns binding them all together…
But the last thing she had seen in Belderon's mind could not have been true. Lessena shared nothing in common with Rhiannon, could not have possibly followed in the tormented footsteps of that princess. But Belderon continued to whisper into her consciousness, where Sariel could not escape, could not stop herself from hearing the worlds.
Yes, Sariel, you will have a new addition to your family soon—that is, if the mother survives that long. Will you seek to protect it too? Will you dirty even the most innocent of beings, at the beginning of a new life, with death?
As the meaning of his words sank in, every last bit of feeling fled Sariel's body. "No…no, you cannot mean that…"
So innocent, Belderon continued in whispers that seem to reverberate through her numbed senses. She rocked back on her heels as if she had been slapped, hearing the truth in his satisfied tone. Poor, tender Lessena. And to think how this will pain the Evenstar so, knowing that her betrothed has committed such acts of violation. Do you think she will be able to bear it, to know that you have caused this? Do you think the Evenstar's light will fade? And Lessena. Ahhh, that poor, sweet, girl of ours. Your sister is already half mad, but she will cling to life long enough for her child to be born. Because you do want Lessena to live, don't you, Sariel?
Tears streamed down Sariel's face without her noticing. Kaeloriel's whines had increased in urgency and volume, but they were not enough to block out the horror of Belderon's words. Soft, thick fur brushed against her arm but she only hunched over more.
"I do not believe you," she cried into the silence of the forest, only to be answered by the faint, mocking echoes of Belderon's chuckles in her head. She raised her hands to cover her ears, desperately wishing she had not heard what he had said, not even conscious of how childishly she was acting. "I do not believe what you say! I do not believe your lies!"
My dear, Belderon said gently, but with supreme confidence. Have I ever lied to you?
Sariel wanted to continue her denial, wanted to scream back at him. There was only the empty, silent forest around her. She wanted to lash out at something, wanted something to fight—but Belderon remained a ghost in her mind. Was this the punishment he had given to Lessena for foiling his plans?
And even when faced with such knowledge, some practical part of her was urging her to ignore it in favor of doing what needed to be done right now, which was finding the antidote to Lianderthral's poison. Some part of her was urging her to hurry because Belderon may have engaged her in futile conversation only to distract her.
But deep down, she knew that what he said was the truth. It made all too much sense. It was the perfect revenge against all of them, more horrifying than simple death, because knowing that the cycle would continue on... How could it have come to this point?
Do you think it will break Arwen completely, seeing how he is under my control even in this? Belderon continued. He has betrayed her with another, forcing himself like a common animal on one who has been a victim all her life. Do you believe she will continue to love you when she finds out what you have brought upon her?
She could not answer him and the sound of her grief still seemed to be effortlessly swallowed up by the forest. "You monster," Sariel murmured at last, but there was no bite to her words, only defeat. "Why do you do this?"
He surprised her by hesitating before answering, almost as if he had been considering the question. It had been simpler before she had been forced to look at his life through his eyes. Now, it was as if part of her would always have part of him—his memories, his grief, his struggles.
To make the hate run in her veins until it is as strong as that in mine, Belderon told her slowly. To show that in all of us, there is dark as well as light, and the Elves are fools if they believe otherwise. You are the greatest proof of that, Sariel.
"No," she denied wearily. "I will never follow you again. You had power over me once, Belderon. You coerced me into becoming an extension of your will, into a remorseless killer. I blindly followed you, believing I had no choice otherwise. I wanted to believe I had no choice, because then everything that I have done would have been forced. But I had a choice, however limited, and now I have made it. No more, Belderon. Never again will I take a life for you."
Do you truly believe that, Sariel? Can you give up the skills that a millennia of preparation have given you? You may believe what you like, my pet. The truth will find you in the end, and the darkness in your nature will appear again and again. I offer you a second chance. If you come quietly back to me, I will reward you. I have always been fair and honest with you, Sariel, even if you will not admit it.
"You've been lying to me all my life," she whispered back.
Have I? Everything you've done, you've done willingly, knowing the consequences. I can let your sister go and promise that your companions will not be harmed. Come back to me, and you free your sister's child. A new life, a new start. I can give you a gift more precious than anything else, Sariel. I can give Lessena new hope. I can offer her a different beginning for her child.
"There can never be hope while you still live and I continue to serve you," she replied. "I will never return to you alive, Belderon."
As Aragorn may never have served me, before his death. Will you risk becoming my mindless slave? It is your choice, Sariel. If you return to me, we will continue, bound by blood-oaths neither of us can break. You will know exactly what you are doing with your skills. If you refuse to return, I will hunt you down and you will not even be released from me in death.
The threat in his soft words was a promise. Sariel wavered, seeing the bleak outcomes before her in her mind. He only wanted her to return. Deep down, she also knew that he was right—if she became his assassin again, at least there would be some pretense of a contract between them. If she died and became his minion in the same way Aragorn had, who knew what he could do with her?
"How can I believe what you say?"
You know me well, my nightingale. I give you this chance. Return yourself to me and you can protect the ones you have grown so fond of. If you resist, how many will die?
She felt immobilized, as if in a trance. Was this all that it came down to? His question sank into her mind, repeating over and over until she wanted to give in just to relieve herself of the terrible strain. As if in the grip of a dream, Sariel rose from her kneeling position, briefly unsteady on her feet. Ahead of her, she could see the top of the grey mountain and she walked in that direction, feeling as if there was almost some compulsion that had come over her. She did not fight it. She did not want to fight it.
Everything was so confusing. She had wanted to have choices, and yet the danger of having the freedom to choose was the danger of choosing incorrectly. There was a responsibility to freedom that she had never felt before and it was almost too much to handle. It would be so easy to surrender and let Belderon dictate to her again, to retreat back into her shell, where there were no thoughts of right and wrong, no need to decide between these things.
Sariel had gone no more than a few steps when a black blur slammed into her side, knocking her to the ground. She had been so completely unaware of her surroundings that she fell painfully and without any technique, her reflexes slightly slow. Before she could even recover, Kaeloriel's strong jaws had locked around her arm, his teeth not yet breaking the skin, but if she tried to move, his fangs would undoubtedly sink into her flesh.
The fall chased away the numbness, flooding her with sensations and emotions. With abrupt clarity, she remembered Lianderthral and the way he had felt when she had seen him last. She had slipped into his skin and let down all her barriers so that they had almost breathed as one. Throughout her entire life, she had never felt so close to anybody as in that moment, the bond between them so natural, it was impossible to understand or question why. Lianderthral had risked everything for her, even knowing from the very beginning exactly what and who she was. If Legolas had learned to hate her because she had deceived him, Lianderthral had accepted her and made her feel as if she could be better than she really was.
Remembering the feeling of his body next to hers, something in Sariel's heart clenched painfully. He had shared more with her than just physical comfort that night that they had slept side by side. To Lianderthral, she was more than Belderon's assassin, far more than simply an Elf who had been misled into darkness. They were two of a kind. She had never felt as someone could understand what she had been through. Perhaps Lianderthral did, perhaps he did not, but he had his own past and his own griefs, and it seemed to make him less quick to judge than any other she had ever known.
Even her own mother had given up on her. How could she walk back to Belderon knowing that Lianderthral lay dying?
Uneasiness lingered there in the back of her mind and in her desperation, she tried to take off the vial of blood. The clasp would not unfasten, so she called fire to soften the metal in hopes that the chain could be broken. With trembling hands, she reached around her neck, certain that if she were freed of the necklace, she would be able to resist the temptation to give in to Belderon.
As soon as the clasp parted and the vial fell away, she sank to the ground, overcome by a disorienting wave of dizziness. Sariel gritted her teeth, waiting for it to pass, but it did not. Instead, the feeling grew until she thought she might faint. Kaeloriel nudged her arm with his nose and she turned to him, realizing that she could not continue. She felt blindly around for the vial, and when her fingers closed around the cool glass, she looped the vial back onto the necklace.
The blood-oath was binding, even now. Ties of blood, Belderon had called it, stronger even than the ties she had had with her mother and sister. Before she realized it, the necklace was around her neck again and her hands had dropped to her sides.
Dark spots covered her vision and she blinked until they faded. She could not free herself of him. As if from far away, she heard laughter—the kind of golden laugh that seemed so light and good, and yet she recognized Belderon in it, and felt sick. His control over her was unshakable.
How many will die because of your resistance?
She could not tell if it had been her thought or Belderon's, but it hardly mattered either way. The only thing she could be sure of right now was that she had to do anything in her power to save Lianderthral. Perhaps it was already too late. She had lost track of time and Belderon had delayed her. Her vision blurred as Sariel began to walk again and numbly, she realized that she was seeing through a veil of tears. When had she become so weak?
Kaeloriel stalked by her side, his eyes glinting like hard golden coins. From time to time he ranged ahead, but he returned to her every so often, tilting his head as he examined her almost anxiously. There was something different about his companion now, similar to the vulnerability of a certain animal in a herd that was injured, or sick, or old. He sensed the change and did not trust it.
Sariel searched on fruitlessly, driven by a barely contained panic. There was no finesse to her fumbling movements now and she stumbled and cut herself on sharp rocks as if she was a child lost in the woods. The scars on her back that she had acquired from the whipping in Lothlórien prevented her from moving freely, aching with a deep pain that she almost welcomed, for it spurred her on.
Lianderthral's hand had still been warm in hers when she had left. She tried to remember what he had taught her, to focus herself and her gifts in order to enter into that special moment when all her senses sharpened, almost to the point of discomfort. The world around her was transformed, the brilliant vitality of every aspect of sky, forest, and earth almost too much to take in. The wind sang in her ears, whispering of water and of the silphieron that grew alongside streams and lakes.
She did not have much time left. Either empty handed or with the antidote, Sariel had to return soon. The poison was not fatal…on its own. In combination with the injuries Lianderthral had, though, it would be deadly. By her estimation, Lianderthral could not possibly fight for much longer without succumbing to the fatigue that the drug caused. It would slow his breathing and eventually stop his heart.
If nothing else, she would not let him die without her. Her hand clenched into a fist at her side and it was almost as if she could feel his fingers intertwined with hers.
"But do you think the sacrifice was in vain?" he asked her.
"Yes," she replied.
"I think it is not."
"Why?"
He hesitated. "I do not think you are ready to hear it. Someday, ask me again, and I will tell you."
Sariel knelt down by the stream, splashing a little bit of the icy water onto her face. Her breath already came out in puffs of white. She stared down at the water and it was no longer a dark, inky black. The sky was lightening; it was almost morning. She had found nothing.
"Tell me, Lianderthral," she whispered unsteadily to her distorted image in the running water. "Do you really believe your sacrifice for me was not in vain?"
She picked her way across the stream to the other bank and began to walk again in the direction she had come from, looking at the grey rocks. Her foot slid off a slippery water-coated rock and her leg plunged into the water. Her elbow throbbed where it had slammed against a rock. At least it was not her wrist, which was mostly healed but still fragile and susceptible to another injury. At least she had not twisted an ankle. At least… She tried to think of all that could have happened and did not, as she gritted her teeth and continued.
"Why did you do it? Tell me, Lianderthral."
It was even colder now and her lips barely moved as they shaped the words; she spoke to herself anyway, so what was the use of actually uttering the sounds?
"If you did it because you care for me…then you are a fool." She tried to laugh, but only managed to choke back a sob. The tears that had come before had come silently, but she was as near to a breakdown as she had ever been.
"You are a fool, and your sacrifice will have done nothing, saved no one. You will only have broken hearts. If you care for me, you will fight to live until I return," she told the silent forest around her, the rushing water oblivious to her anger and pain.
"If you care for me, you will tell me yourself when that someday comes and I ask you again." With every statement her voice grew softer, although she straightened her spine and renewed her determination.
"If you care for me, you will only be hurt, because I can care for no one."
Step by step, her bones aching with cold and fatigue, but the sky continued to lighten.
"If you care for me…" Her voice broke and Sariel stopped. She knelt down again, fingertips touching the green leaves of the plants around her, eyes automatically skimming over them and searching for the shape that she yearned to find.
She almost did not notice it, but it was there, all of a sudden. The dark green plant, half hidden by others, a small shrub with jagged edged leaves much like that of holly.
"Silphierion," she breathed and her fingers closed around the frail plant. Kaeloriel came up beside her and she flung her arms around his neck, burying her face into his soft, thick black fur. When she raised her head, she automatically looked up. Rosy streaks of color had been painted across the sky, the proof of dawn.
Sariel had to return, but not to Belderon. She had to return to Lianderthral, so that he might tell her why not all sacrifices were in vain.
She had finally found what she had been searching for, and only now did she realize that it was more than just an antidote for Lianderthral.
A/N: Please review! Yours gratefully, ElvenDestiny.
Finalized June 2009
