Apologies for the long delays between posting. There have been a lot of family emergencies and whatnot going on lately, but I am still writing this story even if I'm not posting promptly. (I wanted to get ahead in the story line a little more.) Thank you for your patience.
Thank you for the reviews and messages and welcome new followers. More one-shots are posted as well.
- S
- Chapter 59 -
The bowstring stretched back as he took his aim and upon its release, the arrow shot into the air above his head, sinking into the belly of the eight legged beast with a sickening sound. A hiss and the sound of cracking branches came before the thud of the spider's dead body on the ground only feet away. Turning on his heel, he didn't bother nocking another arrow.
The spiders were dead. Part of him wondered if spiders were reincarnated over, and over, and over again; creatures that would never truly die no matter how many times they killed them. He glanced around the forest floor, scanning over the bodies of his troop members; counting, checking, and double checking to make sure all were well and accounted for.
Sidhel sidled up to him and the tip of his long bow rested on his leather shoe. He spoke no words because none were needed. Again they cleared the forest of the spiders filth, again they fought the enemy with the same determination and strength as the countless times before that. The corpses would rot down eventually, or be consumed by other creatures of the forest, but Legolas shuddered at the thought of the filth lingering under the trees of his homeland.
Sidhel's eyes lingered momentarily on the scratch on the Prince's arm and the small trickle of blood that escaped the cut and raised his eyebrows. Legolas shrugged it off. The scratch came from a branch earlier and it was not deep. The bleeding had already stopped so he was not worried about it. It did not come from a spider and Sidhel knew that, but it had been caused by the fall of one.
He looked to the southwest, though the only sight he could see for a long way were the thick trees that obscured his vision. Always when he was troubled he would look to the southwest, and always he failed to see the one thing that would bring him hope for a better future. He turned away, feeling his frustrations renewed and gathered his troops up.
The wind shifted, a storm was brewing in the north and that was exactly where they were heading. Pulling the arrow he killed his last spider with out of its flesh, he added it to his collection and marched to the stream only a short distance away. Rinsing the blood off, he tucked them back inside his quiver and the others did the same.
It was time to move out.
Laimen, the southern marchwarden met him an hour later in a clearing. He was leaning against the trunk of a tree with a half eaten apple in hand. His eyes scanned over the forest floor beneath the branch he stood upon as if he were part of the tree itself. When the Prince joined him, he bowed his head respectively, and let the apple core drop to the forest floor and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve.
"How many?" asked Legolas casually, as if discussing the fallen bodies of their enemy were a common occurrence for them.
"Seven," replied Laimen, and then he sighed. "It never seems to end, does it?"
Legolas shook his head so briefly one might have missed it if they weren't looking close enough. "No, it doesn't."
"How many for you?"
"Nine spiders this time, but most of them were little."
Laimen frowned. "Spawns of darkness," he muttered. "Do you think we will see days of peace, my Lord?"
Legolas' lips formed a thin line. Of course he dreamed of the days when his people could freely walk beneath the trees of their homeland, when the forest was cleared of all evil things, when a darkness no longer plagued their shadows and dreams, but he did not know if he could ever imagine such a time in his life.
"One day," he said eventually, attempting to bring hope to his marchwarden, even if he himself felt none. "One day these trees will shine again. Have faith my friend."
Perhaps it was wrong of him to dish out such false hope, but perhaps it was just what others needed to hear. Unless they sailed into the west like so many before them, and like so many were doing already, hope was the only thing they could hold onto.
A raindrop found its way to the Prince's cheek, but he didn't bother brush it away. It would be the first of many to come, and as the second one fell upon his face, he closed his eyes.
Water dripped off of his cloak as he stepped through the front gates of the Woodland Realm, leaving a steady trail behind him as he followed his troops across the threshold and down the corridors. He was looking forward to dry clothes, hot food, and rest that he hasn't had for almost a week. Upon hearing the call for help along the southern borders, he and his troop departed promptly, despite just returning from a four day venture in the north. The lack of rest prior to his departure only added to the exhaustion that was quickly creeping up on him.
He held his head high though, especially in front of his troops. They were equally just as tired as he, if not more so. The she-elves under his command quietly trailed off in a small cluster to their own room, with the knowledge they would reunite altogether in the dinning hall shortly for a hot meal.
His arm didn't hurt, but the heavy rainfall outside only made it look like he'd endured a major battle wound. After easing the tension of his troops, they knew it wasn't poisoned, it only looked bad. Still, the water diluted the blood and it seeped down his entire arm and dripped onto the stone floor as he walked. It must have reopened at some point during their travels.
Sidhel walked before him, but slowed his pace to even out with the Prince. He eyed his friend's arm but after a tight look from Legolas, said nothing about it.
"Hot food never sounded so good before," his friend murmured with amusement.
A smile threatened to break through Legolas' tense expression, but he only nodded.
"Are you not happy to be back?"
Legolas' frown deepened. "I am always glad to be back."
Sidhel raised an eyebrow but didn't look convinced. "You are thinking about her again."
The Prince grimaced. "I am doing no such thing."
Sidhel actually snorted, and others around them turned to look at the two of them. "Whatever you say."
Legolas turned away and tucked his bow into the nook before unstrapping the weapons he carried upon his back. Normally he would confide in Sidhel about anything that was bothering him, and his friend would do the same, but this time Legolas chose to keep it quiet. The bond connecting him to the Princess was silent and empty as of the last few months. Clearly she learned how to close him off from her emotions. It was maddening.
He barely managed to unbuckle the first snap when a messenger arrived, telling him he'd been summoned by the King.
Legolas sighed quietly. There would be no rest tonight.
He followed the messenger from the room promptly, leaving his weapons leaning against the wall behind him. Sidhel's eyes followed him from the room. If the summons came so quickly from the King, it meant something was wrong, otherwise he would have at least been allowed to change out of his wet clothes.
The King's study was a grand room but his father was not sitting behind the elegant desk when he arrived. Instead, he stood before the roaring fireplace with Lord Erist and Lord Iamben, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning.
The three of them took in his disheveled appearance as he bowed his head to his father, whose cool eyes swept over the frame of his son with a calculating look.
"You are injured, my Lord?" Lord Erist asked promptly, all proper greetings aside, his eyes narrowing in on the slightly torn fabric on Legolas' right upper arm.
Legolas clasped his hands behind his back, as if he could shield the small injury from their gazes.
"It is only a minor scratch, I assure you," he said with forced patience.
"Even small scratches can be dangerous," Iamben said with raised eyebrows, as if Legolas didn't know this. "You did not go to the infirmary first?"
Legolas drew in a breath. "It needs no stitches and I have already cleaned it once. I was summoned here promptly after our arrival, there has not been time."
"You were delayed in your arrival then?" Erist asked, and Legolas nodded curtly.
"Aye, we were," said Legolas vaguely, and the King's eyebrows rose.
"Pray tell, what has happened?" Iamben asked, sounding genuinely curious.
Legolas attempted to check his patience. He was cold, tired, hungry, and standing here answering Lord Iamben's harboring questions was surly testing his mental sanity.
"Spiders encroached upon our southern borders once more and we left promptly after our arrival back in the Woodland Realm from our patrol in the north. Two nests were destroyed. The cut is merely from a broken branch, it was not caused directly from a spider," he explained quickly.
"Good," the King said sternly before Iamben, whose mouth opened to respond, could say anything. "The matter is settled. I will read your report once you've completed it. In the meantime, word has reached us from Erebor. We have been asked to attend a council meeting regarding past and future trade agreements with Erebor and now Dale. King Bard and King Thorin have extended the invitation to the Woodland Realm. I would like you to attend in my stead."
Legolas' chin rose slightly, his eyes fixed upon his father.
As if reading his own son's thoughts, the King continued. "I have no desire to return to the mountain anytime soon. I trust you will be able to establish proper trade agreements."
Legolas nodded. Yes, he was proud his father was giving him such a task, but at the same time it meant more travel and time away from home.
"When am I to leave?" he asked.
"You have the remainder of the month before you are to depart. That should give you enough time to rest. Feren is handling the preparations as we speak," the King said, and then he did something the Prince had barely ever seen before: he hesitated. "However, you will not be going alone."
Legolas raised his eyebrows, and his gaze drifted to the two Lords that stood next to his father. Erist was suddenly frowning and glaring at the wall behind the Prince with such intensity it was almost concerning. Lord Iamben, however, looked smug.
"Lady Lastril will be joining you," the King said finally, and Legolas' stomach dropped.
"With all due respect," Legolas said. "I thought I would be traveling to discuss trade agreements? Does this trip also include a protection detail?"
The King drew in a small breath. "Lady Lastril will be attending for the sole purpose of negotiating trade goods with King Thorin's sister, Princess Dis, who arrived at the mountain a year after it was won. She wishes to discuss goods and services for the Ladies of both Erebor and Dale. You will be taking a protection detail for the both of you."
Legolas' eyes hardened. A trip to Erebor he could handle despite his reluctance to associate with the dwarves, but one where Lady Lastril was involved?
"I trust you will keep my daughter safe?" Lord Iamben said, breaking through the uncomfortable silence of the room that had fallen after the King finished speaking. "Orcs have been spotted between the edges of the woods and Dale."
The Prince reluctantly turned his attention to the suddenly worried looking Lord. Iamben's concern for his daughter's safety seemed genuine, but it was also a challenge against the Prince's guards abilities.
"The Prince's troops are well trained, Iamben," Erist said suddenly, as if he was finally able to reign in his displeasure. "I have no doubt they will be well protected."
"I will be taking my patrol troop?" asked Legolas. He peeled his eyes away from the Lords and looked to his father, who nodded once. He honestly felt a little better, though he still wished he could avoid taking Lastril at all costs.
"Enough talk for now," the King said dismissively. "We will discuss more after you have rested."
Legolas bowed curtly and as he turned to leave, he met Iamben's eyes briefly. There was a flash of triumph in his gaze but it quickly dissipated and was replaced with what looked like gratitude. The Prince ignored it though, and marched from the study, his back ramrod straight and his clenching jaw causing his teeth to ache. Before he left the room, he could feel his father's eyes burning a hole into his back, and Legolas had no doubt his father was just as angry as he was at that very moment.
He marched into the guard room, yanking off his traveling cloak as he did so, and chucked it angrily into the locker that was his. The room fell silent upon his return and Sidhel's eyes watched his every move cautiously. Instead of changing from his clothes right there, Legolas snatched up his bow and quiver. Repairing the damaged fletchings and replacing the bowstring would help occupy his mind until he was able to calm down.
He turned to Sidhel suddenly. "Meet me in my office once you've eaten."
Sidhel jerked his head in a nod but the Prince didn't see it as he hurried from the room, the thought of a hot meal with his troops far from his mind.
He hated the idea of having Lastril come with, and couldn't help but feel there was an underlying reason for her participation in the journey to Erebor. She was the highest ranking she-elf in the Woodland Realm, so it made sense that she be part of the trade agreements with the Ladies of Erebor and Dale, but he was still fuming. Couldn't another she-elf handle this? If he'd been married, his wife would have been the one to officiate the discussions, but he was not, and Shyloh was far from his reach.
Unfortunately the task had fallen to himself and Lastril, but he had a firm idea Iamben was hoping more would come out of the negotiations than simple trade agreements. Being alone with Lastril would surely force them to spend time together, which was clearly what Iamben was hoping for.
He ran a hand over his face in frustration. When it came to negotiations, he knew they would stay in the realm hosting the discussions until agreements were made and there was nothing left to agree upon. It could take days, weeks, or even months. Spending so much time in such close proximity with her made him angry. The only she-elf he wanted to be close to was currently residing in Lothlorien, and that was hundreds of miles away and in the opposite direction.
He passed the guards that stood on either side of the entrance of the royal wing and slammed the door to his room shut behind him. He stripped out of his wet clothes after tossing his weapons on the bed and left the soaked garments to lay on the floor. The tub was already filled with hot water and without a second thought to his arm, he dunked his body under the surface and scrubbed away the misery of his day.
Shyloh tilted her face up to the sunlight that filtered through the canopy of trees. She closed her eyes and let her skin soak up the warmth of the rays. The cold, bitter air still lingered over the forest but at least the sun was shining.
Lady Galadriel smiled and looked skyward.
"I do not think I was summoned back here to drink tea and relax," Shyloh said as she sank back into the armchair. "But if that is all it is, then I will not complain." Her gaze drifted over Arwen and came to rest on Galadriel.
"I am the Lady of the wood," Galadriel said serenely. "If I wish to have tea with my granddaughters, then I shall."
"You were pulled away from us too quickly the last time, and since the orcs have been destroyed, you shall enjoy what remains of your resting time," Arwen said simply as she sipped her tea.
"We will not get much time with you once it comes time for you to depart, so you will have to forgive us if we claim you for ourselves until then," Galadriel said.
Shyloh smiled. "I am happy to be back home."
"We are happy to have you," Arwen said genuinely. "I have only just gotten you, I hate to think within the next few months I will lose you."
"I feel the same," Galadriel said. "Perhaps I should have you pulled from border patrol."
Shyloh laughed, but then she saw Galadriel was serious. "You would do that?"
Galadriel raised her eyebrows. "I do not think you feel the same joy for it that the others do. I believe your tasks lay elsewhere, though the experience has been good for you.."
Shyloh frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Something has changed," she replied simply. "Or someone..."
Shyloh grew quiet, and looked down at the tea she held in her lap. Was she referring to Haldir? Or perhaps herself? Did she suspect Haldir had feelings for her?
Galadriel laughed softly. "Relax child, and fear not. Though his feelings for you have changed, I sense it is you that is most troubled."
Shyloh drew in a breath and sighed before pinching her eyes closed. "It's nothing really," she said. "Maybe I'm just anxious to go back to Rivendell. For you its only been a few years," she said, looking at Arwen. "But for me it feels like ages."
"You came here to learn and you have," Galadriel said as she leaned back against the pile of fluffy pillows. She looked like a goddess, dressed in fine layers of white lace that rippled down from her tall frame like a waterfall, her golden hair catching the sunlight as it came through the treetops.
"Something else is troubling you," Arwen said, giving Shyloh a knowing look.
Shyloh diverted her gaze and looked skyward again as the other two she-elves grew quiet. A maid came in just then, to replenish the tea and light snacks that layered the table between the three of them. Another maid stood quietly in the corner as if she weren't there. Shyloh didn't want to confess her troubles out loud, not with the maids here. She'd had enough experience in this world to know that maids did not always keep quiet, and that they didn't hold the same silent honor as guards did.
To Shyloh's surprise, both maids left promptly, and the three of them were left alone on the balcony. Shyloh watched them go with slight confusion, then looked to Galadriel, who was smiling softly.
"Now that we are alone," Galadriel said. "Tell us your troubles out loud."
Shyloh hesitated, but Arwen tilted her head curiously.
"You'll think I am some love crazed girl, but I have not heard from Legolas in over nine months," she admitted, and she felt her face flame. "Maybe it's silly, and maybe that's just how elves are, I don't know, but the letters just...stopped coming."
Arwen frowned. "I am sure if they stopped coming there would be a good reason for it."
"You have sent a letter with the messenger each time he comes, have you not?" asked Galadriel.
"I have, but maybe that's a bit excessive?"
Arwen shook her head. "He only comes every three months, I would hardly say that was excessive."
Shyloh shrugged. "I'm sure he's just been busy," she offered, but Arwen did not look convinced.
"He is not injured," Galadriel confirmed. "We would have received word from the Woodland Realm if something had happened."
Shyloh nodded.
"You are also concerned about Haldir's feelings towards you," said Galadriel, and Shyloh's face reddened.
Was it so obvious? She liked Haldir as a friend, and completely respected him as her captain, but could never think of him as anything other than that.
"He knows he could never hold your heart," said Galadriel softly. "For your heart is already taken, whether you know that or not."
Shyloh nodded slowly. "I think I already know that, even if it is confusing."
Arwen and Galadriel smiled sympathetically.
"One day you and Legolas will be reunited, and all will come to light," said Galadriel, and Shyloh wouldn't know what she meant by that for a very long time.
The feathers littered the table in front of him a short while later, but he wasn't alone long. Sidhel's knock came from outside his office door and without waiting for Legolas' invite, he opened the door and shut it behind him. Legolas didn't even look up to acknowledge his friend but that was alright by Sidhel.
"I've already heard the good news," Sidhel said dryly as he pulled up a chair to the table. He placed a tray of food down next to Legolas, whose fingers stopped what they were doing momentarily as he eyed the bowl of hot soup.
"Eat, or I'll tell on you," Sidhel commanded, and Legolas raised an eyebrow, silently challenging his friend.
"Are we a hundred years old again?"
Sidhel snorted. "Sometimes I wish it were that simple."
"You and me both," Legolas sighed. He finished his work with the arrow before setting it aside and drawing the tray towards him. "Thanks."
"You owe me an extra thanks for that," Sidhel said, tilting his head toward the tray. "Lastril overheard me telling the servant to prepare a tray for you, and insisted she be the one to bring it to your chambers, claiming she wished to discuss travel arrangements or something of the like."
Legolas shook his head after ripping the dinner roll in half. "A triple thanks, then, for having pity on me and saving me from that impending discussion."
Sidhel smiled. "You would do the same for me."
"I have," Legolas snorted.
"Do you think there is an ulterior motive to her coming?"
Legolas knew what Sidhel was suggesting and he shrugged a shoulder. "When isn't there?"
Sidhel nodded quietly. "I cannot say I am surprised though. Leave it to Lord Iamben to wiggle his way into something like this."
"I'd like to believe the Ladies of Erebor and Dale invited her but," Legolas said, his voice trailing off.
"Perhaps they did and the motive is genuine and honest, but I do not like the underlying opportunities this is presenting her. She wants to get close to you. That has not changed even though its been a few years."
Legolas dunked his roll into the broth of the hearty chicken soup. "This trip will be as professional as possible."
"Fear not mellon nin," Sidhel said with a small smile. "I will not let my cousin devour you."
Legolas almost choked on his bite and shot his friend a scowl.
Sidhel held up his hands in a peace offering. "I like Princess Shyloh far too much to let my cousin sink her claws into you. I'll keep you safe."
Had Sidhel been sitting within reach, Legolas would have hit him and wiped the grin clean off his face.
