~*~*A/N: Rock on…I'm glad you all enjoyed the last chapter. Here's the next installment, complete with another Legolas cheer. Also, this is where my story takes a bit of an AU turn. I know that some of the things that happen don't completely coincide with the book, but that's why it's fanFICTION! Right?! Right! Enjoy.*~*~
--CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE: Just a Moment in Time
Minutes seemed as long as full lifetimes for Náwien that night. She'd laid awake until dawn, her ears alert to every sound, eyes fixed on every hidden shadow. Before Wormtongue had left her room, he'd warned, "Don't even try to escape. Saruman will find you, on any path you may take. It is over, Náwien."
She looked towards the small window high above her. The murky veiled sunlight slipped through the black panes, casting a pale gray haze over the entire room. Náwien lay motionless in her bed, her wide eyes fixed on a crack in the ceiling, as she contemplated her current situation. There was not much she could do. Once Saruman found out that she was not actually in league with them, he would surely have her killed. And then there would be nothing for her left…no way to help Rohan or Éomer.
Unless….
A fleeting reminder of yesterday's conversation between Saruman and Wormtongue passed through her mind. They'd spoken of Helm's Deep…of a battle. Perhaps, if she were to die in Isengard, there was still a way to warn Rohan of the upcoming danger. Náwien closed her eyes, deep in thought, and a blurry image of Legolas flickered behind her closed lids.
"I do not doubt that our paths will cross again," he'd said, before mounting his horse and galloping away.
Náwien bolted upright; the familiar feeling of a blossoming idea slipped through her body. She searched the room frantically…there was no sign of any parchment or feathers. Muttering to herself angrily under her breath, Náwien began to pace the confined area like a caged animal. Coming to a quick and spontaneous decision, she bent at the waist and gathered a fistful of her skirts in her hand, raising the fabric to her mouth. With her teeth, she ripped off a small square of her dress. Glancing about hurriedly, her eyes settled upon the jagged edges of the black stone windowpane. Náwien rushed to it, and, without a second thought, she pressed her finger to it, and pulled downward, the skin of her fingertip slicing open easily. She barely noticed the pain, and reached up to whip a hairpin from the tangles of her dirty mane. Using her own blood like paint, she coated the point of the hairpin with the thick crimson liquid and lowered it to the fabric of her dress. Her work was slow and detailed, and she looked to the door nervously every few seconds, fearful of an intruder to interrupt her. When the cut on her index finger dried, she raised her hand to the windowpane again, this time slicing open her middle finger. After a few minutes, the small square of material was filled with deep red words, and Náwien placed it on her bed to dry completely. Only then did she acknowledge her hand; her pale skin was covered in blood, for she'd ripped open every single one of her fingers, and even a few inches of her palm. Scars, she knew, would haunt her for the rest of her life. That is, if she lived long enough to let the wounds heal.
~*~
Théoden gave a long look to Edoras, wondering if he would ever see his beloved home again, before turning to his companions, who were leading the people of Rohan towards Helm's Deep.
"Come," he said to them. "Let us linger no more."
He looked towards Éomer, who was speaking quietly to Legolas. Then, to his surprise, his nephew whistled, bringing forth a dark brown horse. Legolas dismounted his own steed, helping Gimli off as well.
"What sort of madness is this?" wondered Théoden aloud. Aragorn, too, looked confused.
Without responding, Legolas leaned forward, whispering a flurry of Elvish into his former horse's ear. The animal leaned back on its hind legs, whinnying loudly. It took off, galloping north, carrying naught but air upon its back.
"Do not worry," the Elf promised, climbing atop his new horse. "I know what it is that I am doing."
Théoden gave him another doubtful look, but said nothing. He did not press Legolas for any further information; to ask any Elf a question was folly, for he would only reply "yes" and "no" all at once.
"We ride on!" Théoden commanded, digging his heels into his horses sides.
~*~
"Good day, my lord," Wormtongue said, approaching Saruman in his throne room. The wizard slowly shifted his eyes to the faithful man, tearing his gaze away from the palantir, which stood alone in the center of the room, calling to him. He looked at Wormtongue closely, regarding his pale clammy skin and dark oily hair with loosely disguised contempt. He did not care much for the man, but had no complaints as long as he did his job thoroughly and swiftly.
"My lord," Wormtongue said again. "I bring news regarding one of the girls. Náwien, the younger. She--"
He interrupted himself, weighing the consequences of what he was about to confess to his master. It was, of course, the right thing to do, especially if Náwien proved to be a threat to Isengard. But Wormtongue could not bring himself to say the words. Telling Saruman that Náwien really was a friend of Rohan would be admitting a severe mistake on his part. Saruman would be most displeased. Before he could come to a decision, the wizard spoke.
"Náwien," he repeated. "I sensed a reluctance in her. Are you sure that she is on our side, Gríma?"
He hesitated briefly.
"I…I cannot be sure," he answered nervously. "I do not have the wisdom that you possess."
Saruman appeared thoughtful for a few moments, as he contemplated his options. Finally, he spoke, his voice deep and purposeful.
"It would be a tragedy to lose all that Isengard has accomplished because of an insignificant villager of Rohan," he said. "It was not wise of you to bring them here, but I suppose you did not have any other choice at that moment in time."
Wormtongue nodded his agreement enthusiastically, relieved at Saruman's words. The wizard held up his hand, signaling that he had more yet to say.
"There is a way," Saruman continued, "to be rid of the silly problem that revolves around this girl, and, at the same time, test the loyalty of the elder."
"And how would we do this?" Wormtongue asked, intrigued.
"By simply requesting that Enelya kill her younger sister," Saruman said nonchalantly. "It really is very practical. If she agrees, we can forget about the imposing trouble, for she is obviously our ally. If she declines, it can be assumed that Enelya is, too, a foe of Isengard, and they both will be removed."
Wormtongue nodded again, perfectly satisfied with the wizard's response. He knew that he was safe, for the moment. Saruman did not seem to think he was a fool, and he had no reason for keeping either of the Carnesir sisters alive. His infatuation with the two of them had slowly worn off. His fiery desire was reduced to a small fizzle of energy that sputtered and died like a candle in the wind. There was naught left but the breeze; the reminder of what once was.
~*~
Clutching the piece of fabric to her chest tightly, Náwien slunk through the winding corridors, pressing her body against the walls. She quickly descended the stairs, her feet lightly brushing the stone steps. Unsure of the way out of the tower, Náwien held her breath, and took a left turn at the base of the staircase, hugging the wall the entire way. To her utter surprise and relief, she found an exit, and slipped through, into the dull daylight. With a wary look behind her to the tower, she broke out into a run, letting her legs take her as fast as they could.
She just reached the gates when she heard the sound of galloping hooves in the distance. Looking around in despair, Náwien assumed that someone had found her. She waited for the enemy to close in around her, but to her shock, a horse bearing no rider emerged from the shadows, heading towards her with a purpose.
Náwien stared at the beautiful creature for a few moments, knowing that she recognized the steed, but was unable to put her finger on why it looked so familiar. Then, like a flash of lightning, she remembered her encounter with Legolas…and the horse on which he rode off. Forgetting her plan concerning the square of material which bore her desperate warning, she reached up to the horse, prepared to mount, but stopped short when she heard someone spit out her name.
Náwien turned frantically, seeing Enelya start towards her. Abandoning all thoughts of escape, she quickly thrust the piece of fabric at the horse, strapping it to its back, and then she nudged it towards the gates, silently begging it to ride back from whence it came. To her relief, the horse turned, galloping south once more, leaving her alone with the cold air. Náwien took in a deep breath, and whirled to face her sister.
Enelya marched towards Náwien with a purpose, her blue eyes drawn to angry slits.
"What ails y--"
Náwien was cut off by a harsh slap across her face. Her head hung to the side for a moment, as she was stunned by the violent gesture. Her skin stung from the impact, but she quickly regained her composure.
"I saw you," Enelya hissed. "Did you think that you would get away with lying to me for that long?"
"You don't understand the half of it," Náwien shot back, feeling her blood boil at the accusation that swelled in Enelya's voice. "And you are a fine one to talk, aren't you, Enelya? Lying…cheating…that's your nature now, is it not? How dare you even come to me with these allegations, when you are guilty of the same and more?"
Enelya's face seemed to darken with a mixture of rage and shock. She was rendered speechless at Náwien's gall. Her sister had never spoken to her in such a tone before, but what surprised her more was the truth in her words. They stared at each other for a few moments, and in Náwien's eyes, Enelya could see the deep story of their past, and the tangled web that was woven long ago. It tore at her heart, nearly driving her to tears, and at the same time, compelled her to lash out with her sword. Before she could do either, or anything in between, Náwien pushed past her, walking back towards Orthanc. Enelya stared after her for a long time, even once she disappeared from sight, confused, and at the same time, accepting, of the strange feelings within her heart.
~*~*A/N: I hope you guys liked it. Let me know.*~*~
--CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE: Just a Moment in Time
Minutes seemed as long as full lifetimes for Náwien that night. She'd laid awake until dawn, her ears alert to every sound, eyes fixed on every hidden shadow. Before Wormtongue had left her room, he'd warned, "Don't even try to escape. Saruman will find you, on any path you may take. It is over, Náwien."
She looked towards the small window high above her. The murky veiled sunlight slipped through the black panes, casting a pale gray haze over the entire room. Náwien lay motionless in her bed, her wide eyes fixed on a crack in the ceiling, as she contemplated her current situation. There was not much she could do. Once Saruman found out that she was not actually in league with them, he would surely have her killed. And then there would be nothing for her left…no way to help Rohan or Éomer.
Unless….
A fleeting reminder of yesterday's conversation between Saruman and Wormtongue passed through her mind. They'd spoken of Helm's Deep…of a battle. Perhaps, if she were to die in Isengard, there was still a way to warn Rohan of the upcoming danger. Náwien closed her eyes, deep in thought, and a blurry image of Legolas flickered behind her closed lids.
"I do not doubt that our paths will cross again," he'd said, before mounting his horse and galloping away.
Náwien bolted upright; the familiar feeling of a blossoming idea slipped through her body. She searched the room frantically…there was no sign of any parchment or feathers. Muttering to herself angrily under her breath, Náwien began to pace the confined area like a caged animal. Coming to a quick and spontaneous decision, she bent at the waist and gathered a fistful of her skirts in her hand, raising the fabric to her mouth. With her teeth, she ripped off a small square of her dress. Glancing about hurriedly, her eyes settled upon the jagged edges of the black stone windowpane. Náwien rushed to it, and, without a second thought, she pressed her finger to it, and pulled downward, the skin of her fingertip slicing open easily. She barely noticed the pain, and reached up to whip a hairpin from the tangles of her dirty mane. Using her own blood like paint, she coated the point of the hairpin with the thick crimson liquid and lowered it to the fabric of her dress. Her work was slow and detailed, and she looked to the door nervously every few seconds, fearful of an intruder to interrupt her. When the cut on her index finger dried, she raised her hand to the windowpane again, this time slicing open her middle finger. After a few minutes, the small square of material was filled with deep red words, and Náwien placed it on her bed to dry completely. Only then did she acknowledge her hand; her pale skin was covered in blood, for she'd ripped open every single one of her fingers, and even a few inches of her palm. Scars, she knew, would haunt her for the rest of her life. That is, if she lived long enough to let the wounds heal.
~*~
Théoden gave a long look to Edoras, wondering if he would ever see his beloved home again, before turning to his companions, who were leading the people of Rohan towards Helm's Deep.
"Come," he said to them. "Let us linger no more."
He looked towards Éomer, who was speaking quietly to Legolas. Then, to his surprise, his nephew whistled, bringing forth a dark brown horse. Legolas dismounted his own steed, helping Gimli off as well.
"What sort of madness is this?" wondered Théoden aloud. Aragorn, too, looked confused.
Without responding, Legolas leaned forward, whispering a flurry of Elvish into his former horse's ear. The animal leaned back on its hind legs, whinnying loudly. It took off, galloping north, carrying naught but air upon its back.
"Do not worry," the Elf promised, climbing atop his new horse. "I know what it is that I am doing."
Théoden gave him another doubtful look, but said nothing. He did not press Legolas for any further information; to ask any Elf a question was folly, for he would only reply "yes" and "no" all at once.
"We ride on!" Théoden commanded, digging his heels into his horses sides.
~*~
"Good day, my lord," Wormtongue said, approaching Saruman in his throne room. The wizard slowly shifted his eyes to the faithful man, tearing his gaze away from the palantir, which stood alone in the center of the room, calling to him. He looked at Wormtongue closely, regarding his pale clammy skin and dark oily hair with loosely disguised contempt. He did not care much for the man, but had no complaints as long as he did his job thoroughly and swiftly.
"My lord," Wormtongue said again. "I bring news regarding one of the girls. Náwien, the younger. She--"
He interrupted himself, weighing the consequences of what he was about to confess to his master. It was, of course, the right thing to do, especially if Náwien proved to be a threat to Isengard. But Wormtongue could not bring himself to say the words. Telling Saruman that Náwien really was a friend of Rohan would be admitting a severe mistake on his part. Saruman would be most displeased. Before he could come to a decision, the wizard spoke.
"Náwien," he repeated. "I sensed a reluctance in her. Are you sure that she is on our side, Gríma?"
He hesitated briefly.
"I…I cannot be sure," he answered nervously. "I do not have the wisdom that you possess."
Saruman appeared thoughtful for a few moments, as he contemplated his options. Finally, he spoke, his voice deep and purposeful.
"It would be a tragedy to lose all that Isengard has accomplished because of an insignificant villager of Rohan," he said. "It was not wise of you to bring them here, but I suppose you did not have any other choice at that moment in time."
Wormtongue nodded his agreement enthusiastically, relieved at Saruman's words. The wizard held up his hand, signaling that he had more yet to say.
"There is a way," Saruman continued, "to be rid of the silly problem that revolves around this girl, and, at the same time, test the loyalty of the elder."
"And how would we do this?" Wormtongue asked, intrigued.
"By simply requesting that Enelya kill her younger sister," Saruman said nonchalantly. "It really is very practical. If she agrees, we can forget about the imposing trouble, for she is obviously our ally. If she declines, it can be assumed that Enelya is, too, a foe of Isengard, and they both will be removed."
Wormtongue nodded again, perfectly satisfied with the wizard's response. He knew that he was safe, for the moment. Saruman did not seem to think he was a fool, and he had no reason for keeping either of the Carnesir sisters alive. His infatuation with the two of them had slowly worn off. His fiery desire was reduced to a small fizzle of energy that sputtered and died like a candle in the wind. There was naught left but the breeze; the reminder of what once was.
~*~
Clutching the piece of fabric to her chest tightly, Náwien slunk through the winding corridors, pressing her body against the walls. She quickly descended the stairs, her feet lightly brushing the stone steps. Unsure of the way out of the tower, Náwien held her breath, and took a left turn at the base of the staircase, hugging the wall the entire way. To her utter surprise and relief, she found an exit, and slipped through, into the dull daylight. With a wary look behind her to the tower, she broke out into a run, letting her legs take her as fast as they could.
She just reached the gates when she heard the sound of galloping hooves in the distance. Looking around in despair, Náwien assumed that someone had found her. She waited for the enemy to close in around her, but to her shock, a horse bearing no rider emerged from the shadows, heading towards her with a purpose.
Náwien stared at the beautiful creature for a few moments, knowing that she recognized the steed, but was unable to put her finger on why it looked so familiar. Then, like a flash of lightning, she remembered her encounter with Legolas…and the horse on which he rode off. Forgetting her plan concerning the square of material which bore her desperate warning, she reached up to the horse, prepared to mount, but stopped short when she heard someone spit out her name.
Náwien turned frantically, seeing Enelya start towards her. Abandoning all thoughts of escape, she quickly thrust the piece of fabric at the horse, strapping it to its back, and then she nudged it towards the gates, silently begging it to ride back from whence it came. To her relief, the horse turned, galloping south once more, leaving her alone with the cold air. Náwien took in a deep breath, and whirled to face her sister.
Enelya marched towards Náwien with a purpose, her blue eyes drawn to angry slits.
"What ails y--"
Náwien was cut off by a harsh slap across her face. Her head hung to the side for a moment, as she was stunned by the violent gesture. Her skin stung from the impact, but she quickly regained her composure.
"I saw you," Enelya hissed. "Did you think that you would get away with lying to me for that long?"
"You don't understand the half of it," Náwien shot back, feeling her blood boil at the accusation that swelled in Enelya's voice. "And you are a fine one to talk, aren't you, Enelya? Lying…cheating…that's your nature now, is it not? How dare you even come to me with these allegations, when you are guilty of the same and more?"
Enelya's face seemed to darken with a mixture of rage and shock. She was rendered speechless at Náwien's gall. Her sister had never spoken to her in such a tone before, but what surprised her more was the truth in her words. They stared at each other for a few moments, and in Náwien's eyes, Enelya could see the deep story of their past, and the tangled web that was woven long ago. It tore at her heart, nearly driving her to tears, and at the same time, compelled her to lash out with her sword. Before she could do either, or anything in between, Náwien pushed past her, walking back towards Orthanc. Enelya stared after her for a long time, even once she disappeared from sight, confused, and at the same time, accepting, of the strange feelings within her heart.
~*~*A/N: I hope you guys liked it. Let me know.*~*~