Another double day. It pays to be under the weather.
- S
- Chapter 65 -
It took a while to convince Haldir that she indeed wasn't fading, and that she was simply asking these questions for the fact she wanted a better understanding of what the bond meant. She also had to convince him that she herself was not throwing aside the bond, which seemed to ease his anger some, but then it only led to questions about Legolas and she wasn't really sure how to bring that up.
Somehow, and she figured this only happened because he was obviously a pro at interrogating, he managed to wiggle out the real reason behind her questions.
The sneaky bastard.
Today was not the day to learn how he managed to do that, she just attributed it to the many years he had interrogating soldiers and prisoners. It only made sense that he was a smooth talker, right?
When she explained her real reason for asking, he was looking thoughtfully down at the ground, leaning slightly against his bow as if he were lost in thought. It took a few painful minutes of silence for him to gather his thoughts before he finally straightened and cleared his throat.
"The Prince has a tremendous responsibility to uphold, one that I admit I do not envy him for," he said very slowly and carefully, as if she were a skittish little puppy he was trying not to scare away. "It is almost unheard of to go against the call of the bond, regardless of his station. My gut tells me Princess, he would not willingly let you slide through his fingers. Going against the bond could not only cause you to fade, but it would also affect him.
"You said negotiations had been attempted to force the Prince into an arranged marriage before?"
She nodded. "Yes, I guess there were negotiations taking place between the King and one of the King's council members, Lord Iamben, but they were dismissed."
He rubbed the side of his face almost irritably. "And you mentioned that the Prince said the King would never force his son's hand in marriage?"
She noddded in reply. "How would it affect him?"
He shook his head. "Not much is known about it, to be honest. I have never met someone that has gone against the call of fate. It is simply speculation that the rejected would fade."
"So, no one's ever done it? Gone against the bond, that is?"
"Not that I am aware of. Bonding with someone is special. We elves feel things more deeply than other races. We feel it in our very soul."
"So, then why would he write the letter?" She was growing impatient and confused. None of this was making any sense to her.
"Do you want my honest opinion?"
She nodded firmly, determined now to better understand.
"I do not think he did."
If things couldn't get worse, the sky opened up above the riders, dousing them in a heavy downpour once more. Legolas hunched over in his saddle to brace himself from the onslaught of the needle like stinging of the raindrops. His horse's bowed head was tilted to one side, attempting to shield his own eyes from the burning sensations that pattered down on them.
Even under the branches of Mirkwood, the group of riders was visibly miserable. It was like the sky was punishing them, and as lightning cracked across the sky, it lit up the forest around them with an eerie like vision before it all went dark again and they had to blink to adjust their eyes.
Their lack of visibility left them open for an attack, and the hairs on the back of his neck were already standing up. Spiders hated the rain, which worked in their favor. They cowered in their burrows away from the pelting drops, but it wasn't spiders that plagued Legolas' mind. Orcs could easily be hiding along the roadside, ready to spring into an ambush and they would never know until it was too late. Between the lightning flashing and the thunder, it seemed even his normally good elvish hearing was challenged by the weather.
He sent a prayer to Eru that they make it home safely. Already he dreaded what the rest of his life would be like if anything happened to Lady Lastril. No doubt her father would make life completely miserable. He twisted around in his saddle once more, scanning the riders behind him who trudged along with their heads down and mouths clamped shut.
He met the gazes of several of his warriors and he wished he could provide them with some sort of hopeful encouragement, but he had nothing other than a grim stare to offer them. They had all been through this kind of weather before, and though it dampened their spirits considerably, he knew his warriors were tough enough to withstand the elements of the world. They gave him firms looks of determination in reply though, and his heart warmed considerably. They were all looking forward to returning home.
As the rain lessened, they picked up their pace. The objective was to pass under the grand doors of the Woodland Realm before nightfall. No doubt with the storm brewing above them night would come quicker than they desired, but they had no choice.
Lastril did her best to not complain, at least, out loud. In her head, she was battling with herself. Why was the return trip taking so long? Why were they moving at such a slow pace? Why did this horse have to constantly throw her head around? When Tinnion pointed out her reins were uneven, causing unnecessary pressure on the horse's delicate mouth, she blushed crimson red despite the cold weather. Adjusting her reins helped considerably and of course the horse stopped tossing her head. She bit back a snide remark.
Legolas would have smirked to himself but even he was finding it hard to take pleasure in Lastrils unhappiness right now. He didn't relax until he passed under the watchful gazes of the eastern border patrol. Ristedir gave him a firm nod and rested a hand upon his chest in greeting when Legolas and his company came into view. He did not descend the tree to speak with the Prince, but there was no need: he told Legolas everything he needed to know from his simple nod.
It was comforting to know they were so close to home. The rest of the border patrol remained invisible, and they wouldn't be doing their job if they were spotted even by their own kin. He could sense they were in the area though, dutifully watching their homeland, ready to defend it at a moment's notice.
When the front gates of the Woodland Realm came into view, a weight was lifted from his chest. He drew his horse back, off to the side, making sure that his company was safely inside before he himself rode under the grand archways and the doors closed with a bang behind him.
The crowd that greeted them was merry, and happy cries came from family members when the entire company returned safely. They dismounted their horses and Legolas ran a hand up his mounts neck fondly despite the fact the horse was drenched. Steam rose off of the horses while they stood there in the entrance and quickly stable hands were helping the riders remove the personal saddlebags before leading the horses away.
He peeled back the hood of his cloak and watched fondly as his companions greeted their loved ones with smiling faces. Even Lord Iamben arrived to welcome his daughter back with a hug, which in all honesty, surprised the Prince. With the grip he held on his daughter, the Lord no doubt missed her.
Turning away before he could be caught up in any unwanted conversations, his own father was spotted down a corridor, and it warmed Legolas' heart to know he came to welcome him home. Raising a hand to his chest and tilting is head to the side just slightly, the King welcomed his son away from the crowd and peering eyes.
Legolas placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head. "Mae g'ovannen, Adar."
"Mae g'ovannen, iôn nin," Thranduil replied quietly. He wished not to take away the smiling faces of those that gathered in the entrance hall, knowing that often times his presence alone could dampen a happy reunion. "I trust your travel went well?"
Thranduil and Legolas fell into step together, leaving the company behind without another look back. Legolas drew the bow from off his back and then unsnapped the cloak that weighed heavily against his neck, and was dripping all over the floor.
"Yes, aside from the weather, the return trip went as planned."
"I am glad to hear it. Go, rest, we shall speak on the morrow."
Legolas cast a look up and down the vast corridor and when a couple maids skittered by up ahead, he paused until he was sure they were alone. "There is something of importance I wish to run by you sooner rather than later."
Thranduil's eyebrows rose, clearly catching on. "Then speak of it we shall, but not here."
With a firm nod, the two departed for separate ways. While the trade agreements were an important topic of conversation, thoughts of an earlier conversation with his two friends plagued his mind. He shamefully had to admit to himself he did not fully complete his duty on the return journey, and more often than not did he find his mind wandering to a white haired she-elf. He felt determined to get to the bottom of his confusion. Shyloh had been silent too long. Whatever trickery was afoot would be forced to come full circle at last.
For now, he desperately needed a hot bath and dry clothes, and that is exactly what was awaiting him in his chambers.
Thranduil leaned back in his seat, an elbow leaning on the armrest and his fingers trailing across his lower jaw, seeming to be deep in thought. He looked over the grand desk at his son, who unsurprisingly sat in the same position. Between them were the stacks of trade agreements he would have the pleasure of reading over later on, but from the looks of things, Legolas and Lady Lastril had done well.
He brushed thoughts of the agreements aside, focusing on the matter at hand.
A snitch was in their midst.
Whom it was exactly, they could not say, but the news the King was just presented with was startling and unsettling.
"Different messengers have been sent to both Lothlorien and Rivendell alike," Thranduil said eventually. The pregnant pause between the two had gone on for quite a while to be honest, and it took Thranduil a while to digest his son's latest discovery. "It is not always the same one."
"This is targeted directly to me and Shyloh," Legolas sighed. "Your messages and others are still getting through because you receive responses for each one."
Thranduil nodded very slowly, his eyes narrowing at the desk he still stared at. "You are certain she is simply not responding?"
Legolas shook his head. "She gave no indication that she was upset about anything, simply stating she was missing home. Whether that meant Rivendell or her other world I do not know. Perhaps both. But I have had an ill feeling about this for many months. Has Lord Iamben attempted to discuss marriage to Lady Lastril with you anymore?"
"No," Thranduil said, his frown deepening. "He has been unusually quiet these last few months. I assumed he finally gave up the idea."
Legolas pressed his lips together. The next obvious step would be questioning the messengers but before he did that, he needed answers from Shyloh.
"You are certain she is still in Lothlorien?"
Legolas shook his head. "She wrote in one of her previous letters that she joined marchwarden Haldir's border patrol. I am assuming since I have not heard otherwise, that she is still there serving and learning."
"It would not be wise to go until the thaw," Thranduil advised, which only dampened Legolas' spirits.
"The fords will be impassible then," Legolas said thoughtfully.
"I cannot spare you earlier than Spring. I will write a letter to Lord Celeborn. Write to the Princess, and I will include it with my own message. Lord Celeborn will make sure she receives it. Perhaps he can shed some light on his end while we look into it here."
"Who will you send? I feel as if there are few I can trust with my letters now if they are indeed being intercepted."
"I will send Feren."
Legolas raised his eyebrows. Feren was Thranduil's personal aid. Wherever the King went, Feren was not far behind. The two were practically inseparable, but the fact that the King was sending his own aid was almost alarming, and only added to the fear growing in Legolas' mind about the entire affair. It meant the King couldn't trust any of their messengers either.
Early spring...
Drawing the bowstring back, Shyloh took aim. Despite the tightness across her chest, Shyloh decided to give archery a try. Haldir raised his eyebrows when she visibly winced.
"I do not think you are healed enough," he mumbled with a shake of his head.
She gritted her teeth and released the string. The arrow sailed across the space and hit the edge of the target. Grimacing, she lowered the bow unhappily.
"What did you expect? It has only been a few weeks since those muscles were damaged. It will take time to finish heeling," he told her.
She mumbled something inaudible under her breath before turning away from the target, and Haldir only grinned.
"Do not be so upset, Princess," he said, following her off the training field. "Patience is a virtue."
She shook her head. "Weeks? Its been well over two months!"
A deep laugh rumbled in his chest. "One day at a time. Work on stretching the muscles more. Sognirion can give you a salve to help relieve the ache. It was not a simple wound you suffered."
"I'm sorry my time on the border patrol has been cut short," she said, ignoring his comment.
"I do not believe we ever set a time frame for your duration," he replied. "But do not think it was your fault. The orcs are starting to anticipate our retaliation at the edges of the Wood."
"One of the guards said that orc movements have increased over the years. Was there ever a time there was no need for border patrol?"
Haldir grimaced. "If there was, it was not during my time. Perhaps in the early days when elves first awoke on these shores. There has always been a darkness plaguing these lands, whether it was Sauron or other evil creatures."
"Do you think the darkness will ever go away?" she wondered.
He was quiet for a length before he let go a soft sigh. "There is always hope. Whispers have reached our ears of the enemies movements for a long time now. The one Ring is rumored to have been found, and our spies bring word of activity in Mordor."
She'd heard stories about the one Ring but had a hard time imagining just what Mordor looked like exactly. In all honesty, she didn't want to find out but there was a nagging feeling in the back of her mind and in the pits of her stomach that told her she would find out one day. Maybe this was why she was brought back to Middle-earth, or maybe her imagination was running wild with her. Maybe she had nothing to do with it in general.
Their conversation was cut short upon the approach of footsteps and they both paused when Lord Celeborn met them at the head of the trail. During her time in Lothlorien, she rarely saw the Lord outside of council meetings or feasts, so it was surprising that he was here now. They both bowed their heads as he approached, his hands clasped behind his back. The frown he wore told her he did not have great news but what surprised her even more was the ellon that followed him.
Tall with dark hair and a chiseled, he wore the garbs of Mirkwood. She recognized him though she hadn't seen him since her time in Dale. What was a Mirkwood elf doing in Lothlórien?
"Marchwarden," Celeborn said, addressing Haldir with a nod. "I hate to interrupt, but I am afraid I must speak with the Princess for a moment."
Haldir nodded his head then bid her farewell. Butterflies filled her stomach as she watched her friend take his leave, and her grip on the bow tightened nervously. Something told her she wasn't going to like what she was about to hear. Lord Celeborn never sought her out before, so why now?
"Walk with us for a moment my dear," Celeborn said, gesturing with his arm for her to follow. She looked between the two elves briefly before falling into step next to Celebord. He towered over her, but that wasn't anything new for elves in this world. His long grey and white robes swished around his legs and the Mirkwood elf trailed behind quietly until they came to a secluded clearing.
"There is something I must discuss with you that has been brought to my attention. I believe you know Feren," Celeborn gestured to the ellon that stood to the side quietly with his hands clasped behind him. He stood tall and straight with a stern look on his face. His eyes watched her curiously but he remained quiet. "King Thranduil's personal aid."
Her eyes widened slightly and she bowed her head to him in recognition. "Mae g'ovannen."
He repeated the greeting and bowed back, dipping his head low. His dark hair fell forward but then he straightened.
"I am afraid we have a bit of an issue that needs to be resolved, and it is a rather sensitive topic, hence the need for privacy," Celeborn explained.
"I don't understand," she said, drawing her bow to her chest and gripping the top with both hands.
Celeborn frowned. "I shall explain but first I must ask you something. When was the last time you received word from the Woodland Realm?"
She grimaced and looked away. So this was why Feren was here? The Prince's rejection was bad enough, did the King need to confirm it with her now?
Celeborn's gaze bore into her when she didn't reply. "Well?"
She licked her lips nervously. "The night of the New Years Feast."
"And before that?" asked the Lord, and she shamefully looked down at the toes of her boots.
"Before that just over nine months."
Feren's chin rose and his eyes narrowed slightly.
"Why is this important?" she asked uncomfortably.
"Ernin nin Legolas bid me an audience with you upon my arrival," Feren said. "He wonders about your reasoning behind a lack of response to his letters."
Her eyes widened and her head snapped up. "A lack of response?" she snapped. "He would have had to send a letter in order to receive a response unless he was expecting a one sided conversation. I'm sorry my Lord, but do we really need to talk about this?" She turned back to Lord Celeborn.
Celeborn frowned and drew in a breath. "I am afraid we must, for this is one of the main reasons Feren has traveled so far."
She snorted. "I'm not exactly sure what you're looking for," she admitted, giving Feren a small scowl. "Prince Legolas already made things very clear in his last letter."
"What things?" Feren tilted his head curiously.
She looked away into the woods. "In the letter he explained that he no longer wished to explore any kind of relationship with me." Her cheeks turned red from embarrassment and she could hardly look at the two of them.
There was a pause that filled the air but then Feren took a step forward. "I am afraid I am the one who does not understand," the tall elf said. "The Prince and his Majesty explained there was a lack of response from you for well over a year now. They simply bid me to discover if you were unable to reply in anyway. I admit, I am confused."
"I wrote him each time a messenger departed from Lothlorien but he stopped replying, so I stopped writing him in the fall. I assumed he was busy with his tasks and that maybe I wrote too much."
"When exactly did the letters stop from him?" asked Celeborn. "For we have received communication from the Woodland Realm without complications."
"Sometime early last spring," she said with a shrug.
"It is my understanding he has sent you letters with each departure of a messenger to Lothlorien." said Feren.
She shook her head. "If he did I never got any. But it doesn't really matter anyway, does it?"
Feren cocked his head again and frowned heavily. "Why would it not matter?"
She shrugged a shoulder. "Because, he said he doesn't want to be with me. Why would he care if I wrote back or not?"
Celeborn and Feren exchanged confused looks.
Feren drew in a breath. "Princess, is there a chance you still have that letter?"
