Double the love today. You're welcome :)
Question: is it wrong if I secretly love writing Lastril's character? Muwahahaha
- S
- Chapter 63 -
Swords clashed and echoed off the stone walls of the training halls of King Thorin. He let his frustrations rise to the surface a little too much, and Sidhel gave him a glowering look. The two of them always spared together, but as of late, the Prince's mood had turned downright sour.
"Perhaps a break is what you need, mellon," Sidhel suggested, as he swapped the sword from his left hand to his right, and shook out his now free hand as if it was sore from the latest impact.
Legolas frowned and the sword he held in his hand spun around in the air as if it were a simple extension of his arm and not a deadly weapon. The training swords the dwarves used were not up to the satisfaction of the elves, therefore, they used their own weapons for practicing, simply keeping to simpler maneuvers that would not injure their sparring partner.
"We have only just begun," Legolas grumbled, but Sidhel laughed.
"We have sparred for well over an hour. Is it not time to make ready for our last meeting?" Sidhel placed the tip of his sword on the stone ground carefully, then leaned his elbow on the hilt as if it were the corner of a table he was leaning on.
The last meeting.
The day finally came where they would officially tie up any loose ends and begone from the mountain and its damp interior. He could not wait.
"What frustrates you this morning?" Sidhel asked, straightening up and sheathing his sword. "You are frowning like someone spit in your wine."
Legolas shot him a halfhearted scowl. "What makes you think I am upset by something?"
Sidhel's eyes literally rolled, but Nodron snickered from the sidelines where he was watching. Their last week in the mountain proved to be exceptionally boring, and the three of them escaped the confines of their rooms and the stuffy halls of Erebor for the training hall as often as possible. Since King Thorin granted his permission of its use, the three of them had made good use of their extra time.
Also, it served as a way to lose Lady Lastril. Well...at first.
When the Ladies discovered where the ellyn were disappearing to, they themselves would meander down the long corridors to catch a glimpse of the warriors in action. It was distracting and unnecessary for them to linger like they did, but there was nothing they could do about it. Even Legolas, who held rank over his own kin could not order the ladies from other lands to disburse without appearing out of line. It was not his realm to give orders in, unless they were under his own command.
Lastril's constant presence over the last three days set Legolas' teeth on edge, and he'd been overly curt and authoritative with her, which, if he had to admit, was not very Prince-like of him. But, Lastril being who she was, was not easily swayed, and simply smiled sweetly and made him feel completely guilty for his temper.
Sidhel called him a softy.
Nodron told him he was losing his touch.
The both of them were quickly put back in their rightful place when Legolas disarmed the both of them in a heated round of training, then made them go through their usual exercises alone. Some of the other members in his troop teased the two other guards by snickering as they walked off the training field after completing their own easy rounds of exercises, while Sidhel and Nodron stayed behind to nurse their egos.
Now, the three of them woke before anyone else and made their way to the training hall in peace and quiet, without any whispering women or watchful dwarves. He couldn't deny he enjoyed the quietness of an early training session, but for an entire week he'd felt like something was off in the back of his mind, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.
When he tapped into the bond, a strange sensation flowed through him. The link was so well coated he wanted to kick himself for ever mentioning that ability to the Princess. He wished he could take it back and not have her know that coating it was a possibility, even if it would have been wrong of him. Maybe, just maybe, then he would be able to tell if something was wrong.
Of course something is wrong, he told himself.
He knew it deep down in his core. Almost a week ago an unexplained heavy dose of panic and fear filled his chest and he'd found it hard to breath. He'd been forced to excuse himself from the training session with Nodron and Tinnion earlier than expected in order to catch his breath and try to assess what was wrong. Unfortunately, Lastril had forced him to set aside his troubled thoughts until later on when she sent for him for an urgent matter. He told no one of what happened, and feigned a minor hand injury that obviously amounted to nothing when the others asked what was wrong.
He realized he'd been quiet for too long, and Sidhel must have misinterpreted his silence.
"Is it the Princess?" Sidhel asked.
Maybe he didn't misinterpret it after all...
Silence was Legolas' answer once more, and Sidhel did exactly what Legolas didn't want him to do: he gave the Prince a sympathetic look.
"You do not really believe what you told King Thorin, do you? About how she has been sidetracked with border patrol duties and such?" asked Sidhel.
Nodron folded his arms over his broad chest and pressed his lips together in a thin line. "We run border patrol on a regular basis. I have no doubt Lothlorien allows their patrol troops time for rest within the city like we do our own guards."
"Of course I do not believe it," Legolas snapped, sheathing his own sword. "Do you think I am a fool? She has had time to respond back, so why hasn't she? I have been thinking something is wrong for sometime now. We left on good terms. What could have happened."
"Perhaps she is simply not receiving your letters," Sidhel suggested quietly, as if he were trying to keep his voice down. He was looking down at the hilt of his sword nonchalantly. His fingers picked at the hilt simply for something to do, not because it was dirty. Sidhel kept his weapons in top notch shape. Dirt on his sword? No, only blood of the enemy would find its way onto the soldiers most prized possession. His behavior told Legolas that his friend had been considering this possibility for a while.
"You think they are being kept from her," Legolas stated. Sidhel peered up at him from under his bushy eyebrows.
"It would be the only thing that makes sense, unless..."
"Unless what?"
Sidhel visibly hesitated. "Unless she has chosen someone else."
The words were like a dagger in his chest, but if he were being honest with himself, it was a thought that had crossed Legolas' mind as well. What if she didn't believe in the bonding? She did come from a different world, literally, so maybe it was a possibility? He shook his head mentally. No, he didn't believe that for a moment. Apparently, neither did Nodron.
"If she is being kept from your letters, perhaps then you are being kept from hers in return," Nodron chimed in as he stepped closer to the two of them, putting aside all thoughts of Shyloh simply 'finding someone else.'
"It is possible," Legolas muttered. "But then we have to wonder: why?"
Drawing in a breath, Sidhel raised an eyebrow. "I have some theories."
"Unfortunately we do not have time to mull over these new thoughts," Nodron said, straightening once more. "You have a final meeting to attend too so we can be on our way back home in the morning. We will have to wait until our return to the Woodland Realm before looking into this more. We have no messenger here to question, unless you wish to send one of our party home sooner than expected."
"No," Legolas said quickly. "We cannot send someone back just yet. I must think on this a bit more. Come, we need breakfast first and Sidhel needs to change."
His second in command looked down at himself curiously.
"You fell on your back when Legolas knocked you down," Nodron reminded him with a smirk. "It is rather dusty in these halls."
Sidhel frowned and shot Legolas a hard stare but the Prince only shrugged a lazy shoulder.
"What? You should have seen it coming."
She was excited about returning home, but sad that the Prince had called the negotiations to a close so quickly. She didn't think he'd been serious when he told her they would be leaving at the end of the week. Obviously, he had been.
Princess Dis sat at the head of the elegant table, her thin lips pulled into an even thinner line while she considered the pages before her. She only had today to wrap up the final agreements, much to her dismay, so Lastril decided to make the best of what she could with the time she was given.
In all honesty, Lastril disliked the dwarf Princess. For one, she was a dwarf. She was much too picky and opinionated in Lastril's opinion, and she had no problem dismissing Lastril's ideas and thoughts. The other women seemed torn on who they admired the most: the hearty Princess who had a no nonsense attitude, or the she-elf whose poise, grace, and sweet talking had them all bending at the knee like she was some long lost Queen.
Princess Dis was a strong negotiator, but that almost worked in Lastril's favor, because what the Princess was requesting were things she would need Prince Legolas to approve, which meant she would get to speak with him. She wondered if his own meetings were as frustrating and mentally draining as hers, and if that was the reasoning behind his disappointing mood this last week.
Eithrian simply refused to answer Lastril when she was questioned about it, claiming she did not know what was ailing their Prince. Lastril didn't believe her, but chose not to press the guards for information. Instead, she'd made sure to meet with him as much as possible. Of course, it hadn't been easy since both of their meetings ended at various times, and he claimed to be in his own private meetings with Sidhel. Nodron was excluded from these 'meetings,' but Lastril assumed that was because Nodron was acting the part Sidhel normally would have, while Sidhel was attempting – and quite literally failing – to play the part of the Prince's adviser.
Lastril could have laughed out loud. Sidhel as an adviser? For the Prince? It certainly was a laughable thought, and when she found herself growing frustrated from Princess Dis' glowering looks, she used her cousin's uncomfortable situation as a means to lift her own spirits. Anytime Sidhel was caught in an uncomfortable situation was particularly enjoyable for Lastril. She couldn't help it. The two of them never got along, so it was kind of like payback.
Right now, Legolas sat on Lastril's left side. The final meeting combined both of their groups and Lastril held herself as proudly and as elegantly as possible. She no doubt caught the eye of King Bard and several other men in the hall. Even the dwarves spared her a glance when she entered the otherwise male dominated grand hall. King Thorin, however, was the only one who did not spare her a look, but she wasn't offended by that. One King looking at her was enough.
King Bard, though he was handsome, was mortal, but she couldn't deny it made her feel warm and fuzzy on the inside when his eyes looked her up and down. She wouldn't dream – or even think – of showing a mortal favor, but the compliment he silently sent her was still welcomed, and it made her smile on the inside. Surely he had never seen an elleth quite like her before. Surely the Prince would see her beauty if others openly noticed?
She bathed in the fact the Prince was sitting so close to her. He was leaned back in his seat, almost lazily, with one elbow leaning on the armrest, his fingers trailing over his jaw as if he were in thought. His other hand rested on the table closest to her, and the itch to reach out and take it was overwhelming. How his fingers would feel inside hers...
She'd been heavily annoyed when she was not invited to dine with King Thorin, Princess Dis, Prince Legolas, and Sidhel. It was offensive in a way, to be so disregarded. Did they not know who she was? Did they not realize she was basically a Princess of the Woodland Realm? She had royalty in her veins after all.
"-glad that the Woodland Realm agreed to attend. I do not feel these negotiations would have gone as smoothly as they did without your involvement, Prince Legolas." King Thorin leaned over the table, his hands folded before him, and Lastril had to snap out of her thoughts quickly or else run the risk of missing out on what was being said. "On behalf of Erebor," his eyes met Lastril's with a silent praise. "I would like to thank you both for bearing with us during these troubling times."
Troubling times? What exactly did that mean? Oh no, had she missed something?
"It was our pleasure to join you, my Lord and Lady, and we hope you are equally as satisfied with the final results as we are." Legolas didn't bother to look at Lastril as he spoke, but instead nodded his head to the King and Princess, who sat side by side at the head of the table. If Thorin ever took a wife, the Princess would give up her place by the King's side.
It was how it should be. Every King needed a Queen.
"We humbly thank you for your generous hospitality these last few weeks," Lastril added before Legolas could continue. "It has been a pleasure seeing the mountain from within. It is quite remarkable."
Legolas stiffened next to her, but King Thorin actually looked surprised by her words. Did he really believe she enjoyed her stay inside the dark, damp mountain? She hoped so, and by the light smile that graced the King's face she assumed he believed her.
"We look forward to furthering our relationship with the Woodland Realm," the King replied.
Well, maybe that was a bit of a stretch in Lastril's humble opinion, but she wasn't going to say otherwise. She knew her King wouldn't wish to further any sort of relationship with the dwarves if they could help it. She might have played the role of a Woodland Realm representative these last few weeks, and she more than tolerated the presence of the dwarves, but she despised them as much as she despised that white haired she-elf.
Despite those thoughts, she smiled and leaned closer to Legolas, giving him an affectionate smile as she did. Boldly she placed her hand over the Prince's on the table, her heart racing a mile a minute. The warmth of his hand sent a chill up her arm, and she heard him suck in a breath. Did her touch affect him like his did her?
"We look forward to it," she said sweetly. The dwarf King's eyes fell upon their combined hands, and she couldn't understand the confused look that passed over his face before it was quickly smoothed away. When King Bard started speaking on behalf of his own kin, the attention of everyone in the room shifted away from the elves.
Legolas' hand suddenly shifted on the table, and for a moment she thought he was simply twisting his hand around in order to hold hers better. Her heart fluttered in her chest at the thought. It would be a small gesture, but she would take it.
Confusion swept through her when he pulled his hand out from under hers, and interlaced his own fingers together in front of him on the table, a deep frown creasing his forehead. Was she the only one who noticed his knuckles just turned white?
Lastril stared up at the horse Tinnion was preparing for her with a frustrated frown. When they left the Woodland Realm to begin their trip to Erebor, Prince Legolas had been the one to adjust the saddle and leathers just so for her, but the Prince was nowhere in sight. Hands on her hips, Lastril shook her head slightly. She did not wish for Tinnion to tend to her, but the guard simply said the Prince had some last minute business to take care of.
Whatever that could be, she had no idea. Looking around at their small traveling group, she noticed Sidhel and Nodron's absence as well. Of course, the three of them were practically inseparable.
Like a faithful shadow, Farril stood behind her left shoulder, twisting her fingers nervously with her head bowed. Their stay in Erebor had proven to be fruitful on more than one level, particularly with the trade agreements she had been able to conduct while in her own lengthy meetings, and she would have smiled to herself if only the Prince would have been here.
"Quit fidgeting Farril," Lastril hissed, glancing over her shoulder at the maid. "It is not like you have never been atop a horse before."
Farril bit her bottom lip nervously as her eyes scanned the tall chestnut mare Ganir was now tending to. The guard looked over at the maid with a slight pinch to his mouth.
"They are rather intimidating creatures my Lady," Farril said quietly, her voice mimicking the squeakiness of a mouse.
Leave it to Farril to act the part of a worry wort. She was tempted to roll her eyes, but that would have been very unlady like of her, and with the way Eithrien was watching the two of them, she dared not allow herself to appear as anything less than perfectly collected and well mannered. It was annoying how the she-elf was constantly watching her with an emotionless mask, as if the guard was made of stone and not flesh and bone. It irritated Lastril. She preferred Padrien and Aphadriel's presence more than Eithrien's. The three she-elves selected by Prince Legolas to be her personal guards these last few weeks only annoyed her, but none more so than Eithrien.
It wasn't like they did anything directly, but the small glares they gave Lastril while she conversed with the Prince about important matters or the pressing of their lips as if they were annoyed were all things she caught on to. It made her wonder if the female guards had been so distant with the Princess of Rivendell or not.
Or maybe they were just jealous.
Yes, that must be it. The Prince was the most eligible ellon in the Woodland Realm, or perhaps, in any elven Kingdom. She didn't know a single eligible elleth that didn't dream about being selected to be by his side. Rumors spread after the war that Prince Legolas and Princess Shyloh were soulmates, and of course Farril herself had overheard the conversation between the two of them regarding it, but she held little stock to it.
Things could change. She knew that first hand. Her father and mother for instance, had an arranged marriage, and while neither of them approved of it at the beginning, they eventually grew to love one another. She was certain the same thing would happen between herself and the Prince. There was no way the King of the Woodland Realm would allow a marriage to happen between that white haired she-elf and his own son. She was far too friendly with dwarves for anyone's liking. There was noway a dwarf friend would be Queen.
Just the thought of that elleth made Lastril's blood boil. She'd walked into the Woodland Realm and changed everything. Oh, how she wished she could make her pay. Never in her many years had she disliked someone so much. Vengeful wasn't a way Lastril would describe herself, but she had no problem dreaming up ways to ruin the beautiful smile on the Princess' face; to make her know what it was like to cry herself to sleep at night in the confines of her empty room. To know what the sting of rejection felt like. To know the harshness of being so close to something only to have it ripped from your grasp. To grow up and believe your future was set in stone, only to have it dissipate in front of her very eyes.
Yes, she wanted all of those things for the Princess.
Why could she not go back to wherever it was she hailed from in the first place?
There was only one thing to do: move ahead. That was exactly what she planned on doing. Other she-elves found themselves on the King's council. She'd already been entrusted to make decisions on behalf of the Woodland Realm here in Erebor. She was a high ranking elleth among her kin, surely that would mean if she worked harder she could be deemed as trustworthy to make it on the King's council as the others.
She would set aside the menial tasks of her old self. She would strive to focus on bettering the Kingdom. She would prove herself a worthy elf, and in stride perhaps she would one day surpass even her own father. She would literally lay herself in the Prince's constant line of vision.
After all, she was more deserving than a white haired Princess.
"Come, Farril, your mount is ready," Ganir's voice broke Lastril out of her happy thoughts, and she blinked over her shoulder. Farril gave Lastril a wavering look before stepping forward, clearly intimidated by the horse who was standing so quietly.
While Ganir might have given Farril a sympathetic look, Lastril wasn't so easily invested in the well being of her simple maid. However, since Lastril intended to prove herself as a better elf, she took Farril by the elbow gently.
"I am sure Ganir would not allow you on such a horse if he felt the mount was unfit for you. You rode this one on the way here, did you not?" asked Lastril softly.
Farril blinked, clearly startled by her Lady's sudden gentleness. Ganir's eyes even widened, but Lastril only shot him a pointed look, as if silently telling the guard the maid needed the added encouragement.
"Yes, my Lady, I did," Farril mumbled quietly.
Ganir's lips formed a thin line, as if he weren't sure how to take Lastril's gentle approach, and ultimately he turned Farril away from her Lady and focused his attention on the worried maid as if Lastril simply did not exist.
"Worry not, Farril," Ganir said, taking the maid's hand gently and bringing her forward to the horse's side. It was very uncharacteristic of the ellon to be so forward when addressing an elleth, even a maid such as Farril, but the way he was suddenly looking at the tall brown haired she-elf had Lastril questioning his behavior. Did he favor the she-elf? "This mare remembers you and will take care of you."
When Farril offered a small, hesitant smile her cheeks were actually blushing. Perhaps Farril favored Ganir as well...
Lastril had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from rolling her eyes. Everyone else made love look so easy.
"Can we not mount up?" Lastril asked, looking over at the rest of their guards who were simply standing around holding the reins of their horses quietly, or checking a strap here or a stirrup there.
Tinnion looked up and shook his head with a slight frown. "We wait for the Prince."
Oh.
Well, surely it wasn't such a big deal they wait for him before mounting. After all, the Prince himself had been the one to help Lastril mount her own horse before even himself before departing the Woodland Realm. Looking around though, she decided not to argue or push the matter. If the guards were willing to wait for their Prince, then she must also.
It wasn't long before Legolas, Sidhel, and Nodron appeared. A rare smile was gracing the Prince's normally stoic face, and Lastril found him to be even more handsome. He really should smile more often. Perhaps she could help with that with her new found determination.
Whatever had him smiling, had the other two in his company also grinning and when the King himself bid their group farewell at last, Lastril was once again struck down. Prince Legolas mounted his own steed before all others.
She did her best to hide her surprise when she was ignored so blatantly. Her father would hear about this. When Tinnion helped her into the saddle, a flame of resolution was lit inside her soul.
