She scrubbed over the hard wooden surface again. No matter how much she had lathered and soaked, the impervious stains remained. She was cleaning the tables which had been used to operate on the men in need to have limbs amputated. There had been so many, they had resorted to bringing wide tables from the eating hall, and now the women were cleaning these to have them returned. Nienor muttered as she continued her efforts, assisted by the other designated help in the healing ward. She tried to focus on the task, willing the sweeping motions to still her thoughts from running back to what had passed the other day. To how he had held her, as if nothing had changed between them. How he then acted as if it had been merely a stroke of fancy. Or revenge.
The inside of her lower lip stung and hurt, of a bluish shade from his merciless kiss. She thought at first he would yell at her, remind her how despicable she was, judging by the suppressed fury she saw when he had turned to face her. But not this, and certainly not him losing himself with her. It had been so unlike what she knew of the elf, this act. This desperate, angry display. In any other circumstance, and if he had been anyone else, she would have demanded an explanation. But she was in no position to demand anything of him. He seemed to have lost all respect and consideration for her, save for that short lived moment when he looked into her eyes, and told her he did not hate her. But she suspected that had been a momentary loss of reason on his part as well. It hurt, it was unbearable. It was her doing.
'Good day,' she heard then, and turning her head she saw the new addition to be her husband. 'Kindly leave us, I wish to speak with my lady wife,' Ereldur motioned.
A sense of foreboding and wariness filled the woman as the women all bowed and successively left the tent. The man turned to his wife then, hands clasped behind his back. He seemed to assess her, taking in her figure, her bloodied apron, her hair, having become unruly in her braid due to the physical effort.
'This war is far from over, as you can see,' he broke the silence, and she wondered why he chose this topic in particular to open a conversation. 'If it comes to it, you would need to gather the people and flee Garolin. I have no men to spare. Make no mistake, the grievously wounded would need to be left behind. It will not be easy. You would be the one to lead them, if no aid comes. Are you capable of such?' he asked, not actually expecting a reply.
The woman lowered her head. She suspected as much. Legolas said it would not come to that. She hoped.
'What about the-,' she only realized it had been unwise to mention it after the words came out '-the elves? Would a number of them not come to our aid if we were in danger of falling?'
'That depends on what we achieve against the enemy in open field. They themselves might be overwhelmed. But the outcome I put to you is indeed the worst I can imagine. Only then would the need to resort to you as a leader present itself.'
'Why do you choose to tell me this now?' she wondered aloud.
'Because we will soon need to head out again.' He smiled bleakly at her surprised expression. Then Ereldur fell quiet, instead looking about him, as if seeking something within the enclosure of the tent. As if something was amiss.
'I saw you with the elf.'
Her breath left her, try though she did to hide it.
'He seemed to be granting you quite a sparring lesson. None too gently.'
He had seen them on the field. She came to herself. Half turned from her husband, she said, 'I was attempting to hone my skill. I needed a sparring partner.'
'How feeble. And of course it had to be him?'
'There were others as well.'
Ereldur drew closer, and she barely hid her shudder when his hand reached for her. His finger twirled around a strand of her hair, smoothing it away from her face. The motion would have been tender in the eyes of any onlooker.
'Not the kind of swordplay you are used to, no doubt,' he sneered even as he saw her eyes cloud with resentment. 'I thought you refused to speak with him or be near him,' he added gently.
How low he is in his blows. 'That is different,' she answered curtly, more ill at ease now than before. She knew better than to think such gentleness was in any way sincerely bestowed upon her.
'I am curious how this came to be from not bearing to be near him.'' He was facing her fully now, having come so close his face was mere inches from hers. 'Those were your words if I recall, yes?'
'I thought you wanted me to be more courteous to him.'
'Do you take me for a fool, Nienor?' the man added darkly, and his true mood shone through. 'Or perhaps you think me blind, neither of which I have given you cause for.'
She averted her eyes to the entrance. 'I do not understand what you are implying.'
A low hum left his lips, something akin to a wild animal sneering. 'It is painfully obvious to me you want to be close to him, try though you might to hide it even from yourself. Pray do not let yourself descend into foolery. We have a war to fight. People are dying. He is here for a purpose.' He tilted her chin towards him. 'Or perhaps... I should go to him and reveal the truth he so clearly craves to find?'
She pressed her lips together as she stared into cold green eyes, only able to imagine how that would end. Legolas only knew of some of the past events now, and that fact should be kept away from Ereldur. Either way she doubted the ellon would take the man for his word fully. Perhaps Ereldur could still poison his mind against her since she had not even provided the elf a decent explanation. She would keep trying, despite his current aversion and ill treatment of her.
'As you said, my lord, we are at war. I think, it would be impractical from your part to do so. We need allies to be allies. The past should not be stirred.' She hoped she sounded honest enough.
The man regarded her silently for a moment. 'When will I finally see you in my chambers, Nienor?'
She shuddered, but offered no answer.
'Or is the prince so distracting to you?'
'You very well know we are nothing to each other now-,'
'Hah! Be quiet,' her lord scoffed. 'Do not offer insult atop injury any further than you already have. I dread to think how your own father might be rolling in his grave at the dishonor you brought him through your actions. Did he ever imagine his only child would come to be an elf's plaything?'
'You have no right to speak of my father!'
But the words did not cease. 'Do you truly think that elf would have pledged himself to you for eternity? Or rather, would he have started resenting you when your body withered and you stopped being able to offer him the earthly pleasures he craved? When you grew old and frail, and he would come to be nothing more than your caretaker?'
The words hurt as intended. More so as the same thoughts had sinuously made their way into her own head countless times. But no, Legolas would never have done that. He was more than that. Or had been. Her eyes flashed and she met his own coolly. She might have learned to respect him once, had he been kinder. 'For all your righteousness, you have no honor. Your petty pride will one day lead you astray and then you will see the wrong of it, my lord,' she seethed.
Ereldur stood silent. 'Perhaps. But I warn you again. Take heed of your own actions, lest you yourself find to be on the wrong side of me. And I have little mercy for those who do me wrong, Nienor.' Then he threw her a condescending smile as he turned away, leaving her alone, taking measured breaths, the blood soaked cloth hanging miserably in her hand. She let herself fall against one of the tables. There was no escape.
The arrow hit the target with a dull sound. It had broken through the previous one, landing in the very center.
You have wronged her.
Legolas sighed before nocking the next arrow, shaking his head to disperse the thought.
The arrow flew and went the way of the others.
Your disgraceful actions lacked honor.
He growled, nocking yet another arrow. Then another. His mind was unyielding, no matter how much he tried.
You overstepped your bounds. Not her, you. The ellon stopped, turning his gaze to the horizon, his bow lowered. She had tried to speak to him, possibly offer him the pieces of truth he lacked. But the elf could not hear her, could not bear her excuses, her apologies. Could not look into her pale face, her pleading eyes. He had wanted to leave her there, but something pulled him back. Something from deep within him, perhaps the Silvan side of him, relentless and merciless. But the regret flaring inside him now could not be denied when he recalled how his forceful kiss drew blood. Nor the longing when he felt her taste. He had been truthful when he said he did not hate her, but her actions he did hate. And since their last encounter went the way it did, an apology for his actions seemed like an unlikely possibility either way. She would probably be too hurt and, to his increased distress he realized, frightened to approach him again.
As he was lost in thought, his hearing then discerned movement behind him. Turning, he saw it was Dalaron approaching him in his even stride.
'You have been here for half a day almost. Was there not to be a council gathering?' his friend started by way of greeting.
'Tonight,' the prince replied as he pulled another arrow from his quiver.
'Lord Elrond has sent a response.'
The fair haired ellon turned to his commander. He had produced the missive indeed, holding it between slender fingers.
'We shall read it at the council. Anything from my father?'
'Not as of yet. But I believe messengers have arrived from Cardolan. Nothing from Rhudaur.'
'That is somewhat disconcerting. Tell the company they are to further aid the new human recruits in their training, aside from their own practice. The lord Ereldur has agreed to the same. He cannot spare too many of his own experienced men.'
'Aye, my lord,' Dalaron replied before he smiled vaguely. He wondered what fouled the mood of his friend so.
'How went your lesson with the lady Nienor?' he tried.
The arrow hit the target above center, nigh to the right of the others.
'Her form leaves much to be desired,' he nocked another arrow.
'Aye, I must admit I could not fully unleash myself upon her, for fear of causing her harm. But her slight frame could prove an advantage. It does so when she wields those daggers she owns. I trust that would be your thinking for the sword as well.'
The prince sighed, his bow lowered. He turned to Dalaron, who was now watching him. Intently.
'What is it?'
'My skill was not good enough to aid an inexperienced human woman?' It was not an accusation, but more akin to a curiosity. 'You stopped me from sparring with her, yet somehow in the end you agreed to help her yourself.'
'Her place is not on the battlefield. But she is stubborn.'
'And you obliged, despite your many responsibilities.'
'Twas truly not much of an effort on my part,' the prince sighed tiredly.
Golden flecked green eyes burned into his. 'I suppose you know her better. You have been friends for so long.' Dalaron had seen them together in Eryn Lasgalen, owed to his post when he was reporting to Sonruil. He found the woman fetching and witty, a better sample of her race. Dalaron was not terribly inclined towards mortals, but she he could approve of. Her lord and husband, however, was a different matter. Yet something was awry.
Legolas held his commander's gaze evenly. 'Is there something you wish to ask of me, Dalaron? Speak plainly.' He turned once more to his craft.
The younger ellon wondered if he should continue. Or if he had already gone too far. Of course he had seen it. The forlorn expression on his prince when the mortal was in the vicinity, painstakingly hidden though it was. He feared and worried what it meant. Or how long it had taken root. When he spoke next, his tone came softened and cautious.
'You care for her.'
It was a statement, not a question. Grey eyes locked with his, though in those eyes Dalaron saw nothing. They were shuttered, indifferent. Forced.
'We have been friends for a while, as you stated. Further, her lord is our ally, and our host,' he added as evenly as he could, now reaching for an arrow anew. It had been an effort to speak about the man without disdain.
The other elf sighed audibly. 'You know that was not what I meant,' the prince heard as he aimed and released. The arrow landed below center.
Dalaron was relentless. Legolas wondered briefly whether it was at all an option to share the truth, or at least part of it with his friend. He knew Dalaron would never betray his confidence. But he shook the thought away. What good would it do?
'Indeed I do not,' he decided. He glanced at the younger ellon, taking in his unconvinced expression. They faced each other in silence for a few moments before the prince continued. 'Humans are fickle and run driven by their passions, bringing woe to others as well as themselves. Whatever you are thinking, it is not worth dwelling on.'
'Legolas... ,' Dalaron tried softly, but the prince's gaze on him now left no room for a continuation. Thus he yielded. 'As you wish.'
Another arrow was nocked, hitting the center of the target, sending splinters into the air from the one before it.
