1 A/N: Second chapter! Yay! Please continue to review. I would greatly
appreciate it if you would. Expect chapter three in maybe a week. I can be
quite slow some times! :D
2
3 Chapter Two
"Legolas."
"What?!" the elf man turned on his heel, matching the stare of the other before him. He looked frightened, but Legolas was annoyed.
"Is she dead? You are the greatest of all bowmen, and no one lives once you have marked them. I fear this certain life has been quenched without need."
He was right, but Legolas still was not sure about the woman at his feet. Even if the arrow had not killed her, the poison on the tip would. He knelt down beside her, his boots treading in her life-blood that pooled on the forest floor. She was definitely alive, though barely. He could've heard her labored breathing a mile off.
"Nimalo." The man behind him stiffened at his name. "Take her and place her on my horse. We will return to Lothlorien now. Perhaps Lady Galadriel will save her, if she believes it is worth it."
Nimalo obeyed quickly, bending down to retrieve the woman's body, then straightening and disappearing into the foliage. Legolas motioned the others to follow. The horses were tethered a far ways off, but they would get there quickly enough. Nimalo's boots crunched ahead of them as they walked steadily on through the dense forest, stopping every now and then to adjust his load.
Soon the foliage thinned, and Mirkwood lay behind them. Nimalo was already strapping the woman to Legolas' horse, taking care where his hands went. He noticed her dress was ripped down the front, exposing the milk white flesh beneath. There were bruises on her arms, and her lip was bleeding. Whatever had happened to her before she came upon them must have been terrible indeed. He felt distressed that they had caused her more pain, perhaps even ending her short-lived life.
Legolas mounted his horse Kfei and took off south, down towards the place where if you crossed the Great River Anduin, you would be standing on the threshold of Lothlorien. It was the most direct, and fastest way to travel, and they would need to be quick. Already, the woman's breathing was dimming, and would not last much longer in the condition she was in.
"Hurry now!" he called over his shoulder, the wind whipping his long blonde hair in a flurry around him. The sky was darkening even more than before, and the rain fell relentlessly upon them. But still they went on, Lothlorien looming closer with every stride.
Finally, the troupe was galloping in splashing leaps across the river, slowing to step safely from the water, then returning to the brisk pace, crashing rudely through the peaceful forest. Even with all the noise they were making, Legolas could hear the whispers of elves around them, watching as they drew nearer to where he knew Galadriel would be.
"A human.how dare Legolas Greenleaf disrespect his authority by bringing one here."
"-look at how she bleeds. There is no chance for her now. I wonder what Legolas hopes to achieve by this.."
Legolas pushed their voices out of his mind, concentrating on the task at hand. He wasn't sure what he would do if she died. Living with the shame of killing an innocent woman was something he couldn't quite get a grasp on.
Soon, he knew they would have to stop. He'd crossed many lines already, and didn't want to cross anymore.
"Stop the horses." He ordered, slowing his own and dismounting. The others behind him stopped too, waiting for further instruction. Legolas unstrapped the woman, lifting her thin, limp form into his arms.
"Stay here. I will come back for you later. Nimalo, go tell my father of my whereabouts. I am certain he will want an explanation for my absence."
Without hesitation, he continued on at a brisk run, snapping twigs and disturbing the small creeping things in his wake. He was almost there. Almost there. Suddenly, Galadriel's sweet voice interrupted his thoughts like a clear bell.
"Welcome, Prince of Mirkwood. Bring your woman to me. She is dying, but will be saved. Do not worry, all will be taken care of."
Legolas sighed in relief, then crashed into the small glade ahead of him.
There, standing erect and tall like an angel was Galadriel, in her flowing white gown and long golden hair. Celeborn stood beside her, watching Legolas with a calculated stare.
"Welcome Prince of Mirkwood." Galadriel said again, voice ringing elegantly. "Give her to me."
Legolas bowed low, then placed the woman at her feet.
"All will be taken care of." Celeborn added, "You may go now."
Legolas bowed again, stepping lightly across the mossy floor with a maid at his heels.
"Will you be staying Prince Legolas?" she asked sweetly, eyes downcast in respect.
"Yes." He answered, motioning her to raise her head. "I will. I wish to see the woman in question when she is healed, to apologize for my actions. I put her life on the line, and want to make up for it."
"That is very kind of you. I am certain she will be appreciative." The maid murmured, then led Legolas to a little room close by, with a lovely goosedown bed and silk sheets. There was a small desk, where a water basin and towel waited, along with a long oval mirror made of gold.
"Lady Galadriel will call for you when your woman is healed. Please feel free to move about as you wish. Your dinner will be sent up shortly."
Legolas nodded, and the maid disappeared, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Sighing, he undid the clasp that held his cloak, taking it lightly from his shoulders and placing it on the small bed. It was still a bit damp from the rain, and the hem was caked with mud, where it had trailed along the forest floor. The rest of his mossy green clothes were basically immaculate, so he did not remove them.
Legolas felt incredibly tired, but was not ready for sleep. The picture of the woman lying on the ground, blood pooling around her, still was stark in his memory, haunting his every thought. He still couldn't believe he'd so easily mistaken her for an Orc. Inwardly, he cursed himself for being so stupid. She looked nothing like the horrible creatures, smelt nothing like them, did not move like them, and yet he'd jumped to conclusions all the same. Legolas knew that this incident would forever be a blemish on his elfish nature.
Retrieving his bow and quiver of arrows, he exited the small room, wandering around aimlessly, looking for something, or someone to take his mind off the woman. But instead, he found the exact opposite.
His pointed ears pricked, listening for the sound again. It was like the whizzing of arrows through the air. No one he knew in Lothlorien used arrows, which piqued his curiosity to search for whoever was letting them fly.
Breaking into a run, he dashed from the small courtyard he'd been standing in, delving deeper and deeper into the forest in his search. It was close now, and Legolas could hear a voice along with the strange sound. It sounded distressed, but not frightened. He slowed to a walk, moving from behind trees in an attempt not to be noticed.
Looking up into the canopy, he decided it would be a better vantage point in a tree. Springing like a cat, he scrambled gracefully, higher into the branches, until he settled on a thick and steady one, startling blue eyes scanning the forest below.
The first thing he saw was quite a surprise, but Legolas caught himself before he could cry out. There, like a maiden of fire, was the woman he'd shot. It was quite a shock to see her up and about so soon, but the greater shock was what she was doing. On her back was a quiver of arrows not unlike his own, and she stood so still, a single arrow notched in her bow, that she could've been cast in stone. Then, quicker than lightening, she let it fly, striking the very center of a small knot in the tree's bark. Before Legolas could blink, another was released, cracking the first in half. One after the other, she shot at least five more, each one splitting the last, until a pile of splintered wood lay on the forest floor.
She wore a strange outfit, which was surprisingly man's garb. A raven black shirt, made of tight fitting cloth, with a high neck and long sleeves; a over laying light green tunic, embroidered with leaves of gold thread, stark white tights, green, bootlike shoes and a long, flowing hooded cape.
She paused, lowering the bow, then dropping to the ground. Letting out a strangled sob, she sank to the mossy floor, head between raised knees, a tornado of coppery hair falling like a canopy around her. She began to cry, trying to muffle her broken sobs, but failing utterly. After a while, she stopped, then rose, wiping her tears away. She stood immobile for a time, then like an unpredictable wildfire, her grief-laden demeanor faded, quickly replaced by flaming rage. She cried out in fury, retrieving her bow and notching three arrows at once, letting them fly the minute they touched string.
Legolas watched in amazement. He'd never seen such skill in a woman before. Leaning closer, trying to get a better view of her technique, his foot slipped. Amidst much rustling and snapping of branches, he regained control, but barely had enough time to move out of the way as another arrow came sailing through the foliage meant for him. It grazed his arm and he lost his balance once more, falling from the tree, though landing crouched like a cat on his feet.
"What do you want?" came her voice, wavering slightly on the edge of fear.
Legolas looked up, the hairs on his neck raised as he watched her every moment. Another arrow was strung, and he could hear the resistance of the reed string as she pulled it slowly backwards.
"I am not going to hurt you." He replied calmly, slipping his own quiver of arrows to the ground. "I was just watching. You're technique is the best I've..."
"Still your tongue!"
Legolas stopped immediately.
"Enough words. I think I'll kill you for spying on me."
The arrow was released, a second too late. Legolas darted out of the way, running towards her. She froze, eyes wide with fear, her trembling hand dropping the new arrow to the ground. In one swift motion, Legolas disarmed her, taking the bow in hand and notching his own arrow.
"Ah, how the tides have turned my Lady."
She raised her arms in defeat, fixing him with a stare of mixed emotions. Fear, rage, anxiety, sorrow, there were so many he couldn't see them all.
"Please grace me with your name, o lady with hair like fire, and eyes like the forest."
Mouth set firmly, she frowned.
"My name is nothing of importance." She spat. "You have no business in asking me Elf."
Legolas cocked his head, drawing the bow back a little more.
"So quick to judge. You stand in the presence of the Prince of Mirkwood, the man who could've ended your life, but saved it instead."
A flicker of confusion flashed across her eyes, and she frowned deeper. Taking a few steps closer, she bent over, eyes never leaving Legolas', grasping a single arrow from her quiver. There was a pause, then: "Catch!" She threw it in his direction, aiming for his heart. With a brief cry of surprise, Legolas let the arrow in his bow free. In a crash of wood on wood, the two met, each splintering the other.
"Die Elf!" the woman screamed, striking Legolas across the cheek with her foot, then her fist streaking under to uppercut his stomach.
Legolas gasped as the wind was knocked out of him. Straggling backwards, his back met a tree and he slumped to the ground, clutching his stomach in pain.
"I do not wish to hurt you." He said fiercely, pulling himself to his feet.
The woman ignored him, striking over and over again. Legolas did not strike back, taking each blow in silence. She stared at him, confusion marring her exhausted features.
"Why do you not fight?" she asked, pausing for a moment.
"I do not wish to hurt you. Did you not hear me before?" there was no sarcasm in his melodical voice.
She moved closer, and Legolas saw tears beginning to grace her clear, striking green eyes.
"Do not cry, fair maiden of fire." He said. "For tears from your eyes is a pain for me to see."
The blow came hard and unexpected, arousing a red sore on his fine cheek.
"Fair words will get you nowhere Elf." The woman hissed, stepping hard on his booted foot.
Legolas could take no more of this. With lightning accuracy, he grabbed her arm, holding it fast in his own. He glared at her, blue eyes flaming.
"I have tried words, I have tried force." He growled, trying to keep his voice steady. "Neither seemed to have settled your flaming tongue, or your unnecessary violence. Cannot you see I do not wish to harm you? Or perhaps you are too dull in the wits to understand my simple words of peace. Now tell me your name, so I may curse your stupidity."
She looked ready to retort, but the rage died from her face the moment she met his gaze.
"I am sorry." She whispered, eyes downcast. "What you say is true. I am but a stupid girl, with too much of a fiery tongue for her own good. You may call be Bren, though that is not my name."
Legolas was momentarily shocked, his grip loosening, though he did not let go. One minute she is burning with rage and spite, the next, she curses her own stupidity. He had never met such a complex woman before.
"My name, if you wish to know, is Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood. I was the one who shot you in the forest of my name, and it was I who brought you here to Lady Galadriel. I mistook you for an Orc, for they are surprisingly abundant in my home. I was merely out hunting with my men, when I saw you below the branches. I assure you, it was a mistake I shall carry for the rest of my life, and I am deeply sorry for my wrongdoing. If you will find it somewhere within you to forgive me, I shall forever be in my Lady's debt."
Bren looked up at him, green eyes shining.
"Perhaps I shall forgive you." She said coyly, smiling a little. "But only if you let go."
Legolas smiled back, releasing his hold. "Now, I shall bring you to your home. There is no place in Lothlorien for you I fear. I am certain your father will be pleased to see you safe."
Suddenly, fear flashed in her eyes and she backed away from him, shaking her head frantically.
"No." she whispered. "Please don't. Please Legolas, don't take me back!"
Bren stumbled forward, collapsing in his embrace. "I don't ever want to see my father again. Please don't take me back!"
Legolas was surprised, but nodded all the same. "If you do not wish to return to your home, then I will not force you. Neither will I ask reason for your decision, though I fear that more than fatherly spite aroused your answer."
Bren stared at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. "How can you know?"
"I do not know. I only guess. Though it seems that my suspicions are correct. Perhaps you will tell me one day, but for now, let us not dwell on the past, but think of the future."
Legolas took her hand in his, attempting to lead her away from the small clearing. She however, flinched at his touch, moving away.
"Please do not touch me." She said firmly, retrieving her bow and quiver of arrows, along with Legolas'.
There was a slight pause.
"Than I will not." He replied, swinging the quiver on his back and adjusting his tunic.
They walked in silence for a time, Legolas always slightly ahead even after attempts to slow his pace. It seemed his Elfish ways could not be swayed.
Suddenly, a hailstorm of arrows rained down on them, followed closely by a small net, which landed expertly on Bren's shoulders, bringing her to the ground.
A flurry of shouts and commands echoed through the air.
"She has the Ring!"
"Do not let her escape!"
"Take the Prince!"
Another net dropped, landing on Legolas. He fought wildly in the confinement, desperately trying to free himself. Bren's shouts and screams shattered through the melee, making Legolas try harder. What were the Elves of Lothlorien getting at? What was their purpose?
"Still yourself Prince of Mirkwood. This is only for your safety. The girl is dangerous, you must co-operate. Please Prince."
His captor soon gave up in trying to still him, and with a finely calculated blow, sent Legolas sprawling to the ground.
"Bren.." He moaned weakly, but consciousness was leaving him, and soon darkness moved in, enveloping him like a shroud.
2
3 Chapter Two
"Legolas."
"What?!" the elf man turned on his heel, matching the stare of the other before him. He looked frightened, but Legolas was annoyed.
"Is she dead? You are the greatest of all bowmen, and no one lives once you have marked them. I fear this certain life has been quenched without need."
He was right, but Legolas still was not sure about the woman at his feet. Even if the arrow had not killed her, the poison on the tip would. He knelt down beside her, his boots treading in her life-blood that pooled on the forest floor. She was definitely alive, though barely. He could've heard her labored breathing a mile off.
"Nimalo." The man behind him stiffened at his name. "Take her and place her on my horse. We will return to Lothlorien now. Perhaps Lady Galadriel will save her, if she believes it is worth it."
Nimalo obeyed quickly, bending down to retrieve the woman's body, then straightening and disappearing into the foliage. Legolas motioned the others to follow. The horses were tethered a far ways off, but they would get there quickly enough. Nimalo's boots crunched ahead of them as they walked steadily on through the dense forest, stopping every now and then to adjust his load.
Soon the foliage thinned, and Mirkwood lay behind them. Nimalo was already strapping the woman to Legolas' horse, taking care where his hands went. He noticed her dress was ripped down the front, exposing the milk white flesh beneath. There were bruises on her arms, and her lip was bleeding. Whatever had happened to her before she came upon them must have been terrible indeed. He felt distressed that they had caused her more pain, perhaps even ending her short-lived life.
Legolas mounted his horse Kfei and took off south, down towards the place where if you crossed the Great River Anduin, you would be standing on the threshold of Lothlorien. It was the most direct, and fastest way to travel, and they would need to be quick. Already, the woman's breathing was dimming, and would not last much longer in the condition she was in.
"Hurry now!" he called over his shoulder, the wind whipping his long blonde hair in a flurry around him. The sky was darkening even more than before, and the rain fell relentlessly upon them. But still they went on, Lothlorien looming closer with every stride.
Finally, the troupe was galloping in splashing leaps across the river, slowing to step safely from the water, then returning to the brisk pace, crashing rudely through the peaceful forest. Even with all the noise they were making, Legolas could hear the whispers of elves around them, watching as they drew nearer to where he knew Galadriel would be.
"A human.how dare Legolas Greenleaf disrespect his authority by bringing one here."
"-look at how she bleeds. There is no chance for her now. I wonder what Legolas hopes to achieve by this.."
Legolas pushed their voices out of his mind, concentrating on the task at hand. He wasn't sure what he would do if she died. Living with the shame of killing an innocent woman was something he couldn't quite get a grasp on.
Soon, he knew they would have to stop. He'd crossed many lines already, and didn't want to cross anymore.
"Stop the horses." He ordered, slowing his own and dismounting. The others behind him stopped too, waiting for further instruction. Legolas unstrapped the woman, lifting her thin, limp form into his arms.
"Stay here. I will come back for you later. Nimalo, go tell my father of my whereabouts. I am certain he will want an explanation for my absence."
Without hesitation, he continued on at a brisk run, snapping twigs and disturbing the small creeping things in his wake. He was almost there. Almost there. Suddenly, Galadriel's sweet voice interrupted his thoughts like a clear bell.
"Welcome, Prince of Mirkwood. Bring your woman to me. She is dying, but will be saved. Do not worry, all will be taken care of."
Legolas sighed in relief, then crashed into the small glade ahead of him.
There, standing erect and tall like an angel was Galadriel, in her flowing white gown and long golden hair. Celeborn stood beside her, watching Legolas with a calculated stare.
"Welcome Prince of Mirkwood." Galadriel said again, voice ringing elegantly. "Give her to me."
Legolas bowed low, then placed the woman at her feet.
"All will be taken care of." Celeborn added, "You may go now."
Legolas bowed again, stepping lightly across the mossy floor with a maid at his heels.
"Will you be staying Prince Legolas?" she asked sweetly, eyes downcast in respect.
"Yes." He answered, motioning her to raise her head. "I will. I wish to see the woman in question when she is healed, to apologize for my actions. I put her life on the line, and want to make up for it."
"That is very kind of you. I am certain she will be appreciative." The maid murmured, then led Legolas to a little room close by, with a lovely goosedown bed and silk sheets. There was a small desk, where a water basin and towel waited, along with a long oval mirror made of gold.
"Lady Galadriel will call for you when your woman is healed. Please feel free to move about as you wish. Your dinner will be sent up shortly."
Legolas nodded, and the maid disappeared, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Sighing, he undid the clasp that held his cloak, taking it lightly from his shoulders and placing it on the small bed. It was still a bit damp from the rain, and the hem was caked with mud, where it had trailed along the forest floor. The rest of his mossy green clothes were basically immaculate, so he did not remove them.
Legolas felt incredibly tired, but was not ready for sleep. The picture of the woman lying on the ground, blood pooling around her, still was stark in his memory, haunting his every thought. He still couldn't believe he'd so easily mistaken her for an Orc. Inwardly, he cursed himself for being so stupid. She looked nothing like the horrible creatures, smelt nothing like them, did not move like them, and yet he'd jumped to conclusions all the same. Legolas knew that this incident would forever be a blemish on his elfish nature.
Retrieving his bow and quiver of arrows, he exited the small room, wandering around aimlessly, looking for something, or someone to take his mind off the woman. But instead, he found the exact opposite.
His pointed ears pricked, listening for the sound again. It was like the whizzing of arrows through the air. No one he knew in Lothlorien used arrows, which piqued his curiosity to search for whoever was letting them fly.
Breaking into a run, he dashed from the small courtyard he'd been standing in, delving deeper and deeper into the forest in his search. It was close now, and Legolas could hear a voice along with the strange sound. It sounded distressed, but not frightened. He slowed to a walk, moving from behind trees in an attempt not to be noticed.
Looking up into the canopy, he decided it would be a better vantage point in a tree. Springing like a cat, he scrambled gracefully, higher into the branches, until he settled on a thick and steady one, startling blue eyes scanning the forest below.
The first thing he saw was quite a surprise, but Legolas caught himself before he could cry out. There, like a maiden of fire, was the woman he'd shot. It was quite a shock to see her up and about so soon, but the greater shock was what she was doing. On her back was a quiver of arrows not unlike his own, and she stood so still, a single arrow notched in her bow, that she could've been cast in stone. Then, quicker than lightening, she let it fly, striking the very center of a small knot in the tree's bark. Before Legolas could blink, another was released, cracking the first in half. One after the other, she shot at least five more, each one splitting the last, until a pile of splintered wood lay on the forest floor.
She wore a strange outfit, which was surprisingly man's garb. A raven black shirt, made of tight fitting cloth, with a high neck and long sleeves; a over laying light green tunic, embroidered with leaves of gold thread, stark white tights, green, bootlike shoes and a long, flowing hooded cape.
She paused, lowering the bow, then dropping to the ground. Letting out a strangled sob, she sank to the mossy floor, head between raised knees, a tornado of coppery hair falling like a canopy around her. She began to cry, trying to muffle her broken sobs, but failing utterly. After a while, she stopped, then rose, wiping her tears away. She stood immobile for a time, then like an unpredictable wildfire, her grief-laden demeanor faded, quickly replaced by flaming rage. She cried out in fury, retrieving her bow and notching three arrows at once, letting them fly the minute they touched string.
Legolas watched in amazement. He'd never seen such skill in a woman before. Leaning closer, trying to get a better view of her technique, his foot slipped. Amidst much rustling and snapping of branches, he regained control, but barely had enough time to move out of the way as another arrow came sailing through the foliage meant for him. It grazed his arm and he lost his balance once more, falling from the tree, though landing crouched like a cat on his feet.
"What do you want?" came her voice, wavering slightly on the edge of fear.
Legolas looked up, the hairs on his neck raised as he watched her every moment. Another arrow was strung, and he could hear the resistance of the reed string as she pulled it slowly backwards.
"I am not going to hurt you." He replied calmly, slipping his own quiver of arrows to the ground. "I was just watching. You're technique is the best I've..."
"Still your tongue!"
Legolas stopped immediately.
"Enough words. I think I'll kill you for spying on me."
The arrow was released, a second too late. Legolas darted out of the way, running towards her. She froze, eyes wide with fear, her trembling hand dropping the new arrow to the ground. In one swift motion, Legolas disarmed her, taking the bow in hand and notching his own arrow.
"Ah, how the tides have turned my Lady."
She raised her arms in defeat, fixing him with a stare of mixed emotions. Fear, rage, anxiety, sorrow, there were so many he couldn't see them all.
"Please grace me with your name, o lady with hair like fire, and eyes like the forest."
Mouth set firmly, she frowned.
"My name is nothing of importance." She spat. "You have no business in asking me Elf."
Legolas cocked his head, drawing the bow back a little more.
"So quick to judge. You stand in the presence of the Prince of Mirkwood, the man who could've ended your life, but saved it instead."
A flicker of confusion flashed across her eyes, and she frowned deeper. Taking a few steps closer, she bent over, eyes never leaving Legolas', grasping a single arrow from her quiver. There was a pause, then: "Catch!" She threw it in his direction, aiming for his heart. With a brief cry of surprise, Legolas let the arrow in his bow free. In a crash of wood on wood, the two met, each splintering the other.
"Die Elf!" the woman screamed, striking Legolas across the cheek with her foot, then her fist streaking under to uppercut his stomach.
Legolas gasped as the wind was knocked out of him. Straggling backwards, his back met a tree and he slumped to the ground, clutching his stomach in pain.
"I do not wish to hurt you." He said fiercely, pulling himself to his feet.
The woman ignored him, striking over and over again. Legolas did not strike back, taking each blow in silence. She stared at him, confusion marring her exhausted features.
"Why do you not fight?" she asked, pausing for a moment.
"I do not wish to hurt you. Did you not hear me before?" there was no sarcasm in his melodical voice.
She moved closer, and Legolas saw tears beginning to grace her clear, striking green eyes.
"Do not cry, fair maiden of fire." He said. "For tears from your eyes is a pain for me to see."
The blow came hard and unexpected, arousing a red sore on his fine cheek.
"Fair words will get you nowhere Elf." The woman hissed, stepping hard on his booted foot.
Legolas could take no more of this. With lightning accuracy, he grabbed her arm, holding it fast in his own. He glared at her, blue eyes flaming.
"I have tried words, I have tried force." He growled, trying to keep his voice steady. "Neither seemed to have settled your flaming tongue, or your unnecessary violence. Cannot you see I do not wish to harm you? Or perhaps you are too dull in the wits to understand my simple words of peace. Now tell me your name, so I may curse your stupidity."
She looked ready to retort, but the rage died from her face the moment she met his gaze.
"I am sorry." She whispered, eyes downcast. "What you say is true. I am but a stupid girl, with too much of a fiery tongue for her own good. You may call be Bren, though that is not my name."
Legolas was momentarily shocked, his grip loosening, though he did not let go. One minute she is burning with rage and spite, the next, she curses her own stupidity. He had never met such a complex woman before.
"My name, if you wish to know, is Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood. I was the one who shot you in the forest of my name, and it was I who brought you here to Lady Galadriel. I mistook you for an Orc, for they are surprisingly abundant in my home. I was merely out hunting with my men, when I saw you below the branches. I assure you, it was a mistake I shall carry for the rest of my life, and I am deeply sorry for my wrongdoing. If you will find it somewhere within you to forgive me, I shall forever be in my Lady's debt."
Bren looked up at him, green eyes shining.
"Perhaps I shall forgive you." She said coyly, smiling a little. "But only if you let go."
Legolas smiled back, releasing his hold. "Now, I shall bring you to your home. There is no place in Lothlorien for you I fear. I am certain your father will be pleased to see you safe."
Suddenly, fear flashed in her eyes and she backed away from him, shaking her head frantically.
"No." she whispered. "Please don't. Please Legolas, don't take me back!"
Bren stumbled forward, collapsing in his embrace. "I don't ever want to see my father again. Please don't take me back!"
Legolas was surprised, but nodded all the same. "If you do not wish to return to your home, then I will not force you. Neither will I ask reason for your decision, though I fear that more than fatherly spite aroused your answer."
Bren stared at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. "How can you know?"
"I do not know. I only guess. Though it seems that my suspicions are correct. Perhaps you will tell me one day, but for now, let us not dwell on the past, but think of the future."
Legolas took her hand in his, attempting to lead her away from the small clearing. She however, flinched at his touch, moving away.
"Please do not touch me." She said firmly, retrieving her bow and quiver of arrows, along with Legolas'.
There was a slight pause.
"Than I will not." He replied, swinging the quiver on his back and adjusting his tunic.
They walked in silence for a time, Legolas always slightly ahead even after attempts to slow his pace. It seemed his Elfish ways could not be swayed.
Suddenly, a hailstorm of arrows rained down on them, followed closely by a small net, which landed expertly on Bren's shoulders, bringing her to the ground.
A flurry of shouts and commands echoed through the air.
"She has the Ring!"
"Do not let her escape!"
"Take the Prince!"
Another net dropped, landing on Legolas. He fought wildly in the confinement, desperately trying to free himself. Bren's shouts and screams shattered through the melee, making Legolas try harder. What were the Elves of Lothlorien getting at? What was their purpose?
"Still yourself Prince of Mirkwood. This is only for your safety. The girl is dangerous, you must co-operate. Please Prince."
His captor soon gave up in trying to still him, and with a finely calculated blow, sent Legolas sprawling to the ground.
"Bren.." He moaned weakly, but consciousness was leaving him, and soon darkness moved in, enveloping him like a shroud.