RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: The characters from Lord of the Rings and their wonderful world are borrowed from J.R.R. Tolkien. The plotline and all other characters are copyright 2002 Emily (emi_kins@yahoo.com)
3.
For three days, the rain continued to pour forth from the sky, and for three days, the cottage of Narulas and Isabella was filled with jolly laughter and conversation. The small house seemed to put the royal delegation at ease. The company had plans to continue to the home of the governor once the river was safe to ford. There they would be required to behave like royals, but for the time being their surroundings made them forget about the rigid structure of Thranduil's Court. Because of this, Isabella and her father were able to witness the deep friendship between Prince Legolas and Calen as they told jokes and tales late into each evening.
Isabella hung on every word of those tales, watching with wide eyes as the guards retold and reenacted many of them.
"Do you enjoy our talk of adventure, Isabella?" asked Calen late on the first evening, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Yes, My Lord," she replied softly as she refilled his goblet with wine.
"Calen," he corrected her gently, his eyes locking with hers for a long moment. "Just Calen."
She smiled at him and shook her head, unable to think of addressing him in such an informal way in the presence of so many others. Finally turning away, she moved about the room making sure that everyone was comfortable before settling onto the bearskin rug by the fire with a basket of wool which she began to card as the stories continued.
Her father enjoyed telling tales of his days with the king, but most of all, he enjoyed telling tales of his daughter. He spoke of the time she had fashioned a bow and arrows out of twigs and string when her mother had refused her a real one, and of the thrashing she had given to the village bully when he had made her cousin and dear friend Hwestawen cry. He also told of the way she cared for him after Liriliel's death, and the way that the other young Ladies of Forest River had shunned her after she went with the warriors to fight a pack of Wargs that had wondered too close to their homes.
Working with wool became Isabella's main occupation throughout the next fortnight while they waited for the river to quiet, for carding and spinning kept her hands busy while she listened to the tales. She especially enjoyed listening to Calen. He sang songs and told tales along with the prince and the other guards as she produced spool after spool of yarn.
Narulas smiled knowingly when he noticed his daughter's sudden obsession with the wool, and the fact that she had traded her leggings and tunics for the simple dresses her aunt had brought on her last visit. He noticed also that Calen sought his daughter out at every opportunity, and this pleased him greatly.
Her father's obvious approval of the captain of Legolas' guard took Isabella by surprise, but she did not question it for she was too busy enjoying his attention. She looked forward to his friendly whispered comments by the fire while the others laughed and joked, and to the brief moments they were able to spend alone while they tended the horses.
The prince also sought her attention, it seemed, though she hoped that would change when the river became peaceful again and he met the other Ladies of Forest River. Sometimes the prince would interrupt her time with Calen in the stables, and at such times the captain would grow suddenly quiet and withdraw to the far corner of the room to pat one of the horses gently or whisper into its ear.
Calen could not blame his friend. He knew Isabella was perfect for the throne of Mirkwood, but that did not stop his heart from growing to love her. And his heart rejoiced that she did not warm to the prince as she did to him. Legolas never failed to call her "Lady Isabella," and she addressed him always as "Your Highness." Absent was the warmth of her conversations with Calen when she spoke with the prince. Even when Legolas complimented her, she responded as one would at Court and not as one who was in love.
"You are too kind, Your Highness," she would reply softly, quickly changing the subject.
The evenings had grown ever chillier since their arrival, for winter was fast approaching. On one such frosty night, she had crept away from the cottage to visit the place where a memorial had been made to her mother and sat there for a long while, pondering the tales that her father had told that evening. He had told of her mother's arrival in Mirkwood, how the king had taken her in and given her a home. Isabella had heard the tale many times and could still almost hear her mother's voice saying, "If ever there is a favor that you can pay King Thranduil or his family, then do. For he was kind to me when I had nowhere else to go. If not for him, Isabella, you would not be here." And that is why Isabella was so willing to shelter Thranduil's son; why she would be willing to die for the king if need be; and why she wanted more than anything to join the Royal Guard.
Sighing, she stood up. She missed her mother to the point that it chilled her to the bones, so she walked slowly toward the stables where a dim light glowed from beneath the door. The hint of a smile played upon her lips, knowing that Calen must be waiting for her within.
The old barn door creaked as she entered and Calen turned abruptly toward her, his eyes filling with relief. "I was worried, Isabella. You did not tell us where you were going."
"Forgive me," she said as she closed the door behind herself.
He approached her quietly and captured her icy hands in his, rubbing warmth into them as he gazed into her eyes. "It is too cold to be out for so long."
"It is not that cold, Calen, save for the wind."
He lifted her hands to kiss them, still rubbing softly with his thumbs. "How do you keep them so soft?"
She blushed and looked away. "The wool, Calen. Have you never noticed that when a young Lady's heart has been stolen, she takes to spinning wool into yarn? It softens the hands, you see."
He caught her gaze once again and smiled. "You have been spinning almost constantly since our arrival. Tell me, has the Prince of Mirkwood caught your fancy?"
She returned his smile. "The prince is handsome and kind, but it is not for him that I soften my hands."
"Then who is it that occupies your thoughts as you spin, Lady Isabella?"
For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, gazing at the floor, she murmured, "If I told you, I fear that you would only laugh, My Lord."
"I very much doubt that," he replied, "but whoever he is, he's a very lucky Elf."
"Do you really believe that?" she asked shyly.
"Yes, I believe it. Even Prince Legolas has grown quite fond of you, you know. What would you do if he asked for your hand?"
She laughed. "He would never!"
"Do not be so sure," said Calen, "He courts you like he has courted no other since we began our journey."
"You're serious."
"Yes I am," he replied. "What would you do?"
She sighed. "Oh, Calen, my heart does not lie with the prince, but if he asked for my hand…. Well…. I supposed that I would do my duty and marry him."
"That is as it should be. But, with whom does your heart lie?" asked the warrior as he leaned near, his lips almost brushing her ear. He felt her hands tremble slightly as he held them firmly.
"You, Calen," she whispered. "My heart lies with you."
Their gazes met once again before he tipped her chin up and gently kissed her lips. "And mine with you," he replied, his heart growing light as he realized that the crown had no affect on her. "And mine with you."
DISCLAIMER: The characters from Lord of the Rings and their wonderful world are borrowed from J.R.R. Tolkien. The plotline and all other characters are copyright 2002 Emily (emi_kins@yahoo.com)
3.
For three days, the rain continued to pour forth from the sky, and for three days, the cottage of Narulas and Isabella was filled with jolly laughter and conversation. The small house seemed to put the royal delegation at ease. The company had plans to continue to the home of the governor once the river was safe to ford. There they would be required to behave like royals, but for the time being their surroundings made them forget about the rigid structure of Thranduil's Court. Because of this, Isabella and her father were able to witness the deep friendship between Prince Legolas and Calen as they told jokes and tales late into each evening.
Isabella hung on every word of those tales, watching with wide eyes as the guards retold and reenacted many of them.
"Do you enjoy our talk of adventure, Isabella?" asked Calen late on the first evening, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Yes, My Lord," she replied softly as she refilled his goblet with wine.
"Calen," he corrected her gently, his eyes locking with hers for a long moment. "Just Calen."
She smiled at him and shook her head, unable to think of addressing him in such an informal way in the presence of so many others. Finally turning away, she moved about the room making sure that everyone was comfortable before settling onto the bearskin rug by the fire with a basket of wool which she began to card as the stories continued.
Her father enjoyed telling tales of his days with the king, but most of all, he enjoyed telling tales of his daughter. He spoke of the time she had fashioned a bow and arrows out of twigs and string when her mother had refused her a real one, and of the thrashing she had given to the village bully when he had made her cousin and dear friend Hwestawen cry. He also told of the way she cared for him after Liriliel's death, and the way that the other young Ladies of Forest River had shunned her after she went with the warriors to fight a pack of Wargs that had wondered too close to their homes.
Working with wool became Isabella's main occupation throughout the next fortnight while they waited for the river to quiet, for carding and spinning kept her hands busy while she listened to the tales. She especially enjoyed listening to Calen. He sang songs and told tales along with the prince and the other guards as she produced spool after spool of yarn.
Narulas smiled knowingly when he noticed his daughter's sudden obsession with the wool, and the fact that she had traded her leggings and tunics for the simple dresses her aunt had brought on her last visit. He noticed also that Calen sought his daughter out at every opportunity, and this pleased him greatly.
Her father's obvious approval of the captain of Legolas' guard took Isabella by surprise, but she did not question it for she was too busy enjoying his attention. She looked forward to his friendly whispered comments by the fire while the others laughed and joked, and to the brief moments they were able to spend alone while they tended the horses.
The prince also sought her attention, it seemed, though she hoped that would change when the river became peaceful again and he met the other Ladies of Forest River. Sometimes the prince would interrupt her time with Calen in the stables, and at such times the captain would grow suddenly quiet and withdraw to the far corner of the room to pat one of the horses gently or whisper into its ear.
Calen could not blame his friend. He knew Isabella was perfect for the throne of Mirkwood, but that did not stop his heart from growing to love her. And his heart rejoiced that she did not warm to the prince as she did to him. Legolas never failed to call her "Lady Isabella," and she addressed him always as "Your Highness." Absent was the warmth of her conversations with Calen when she spoke with the prince. Even when Legolas complimented her, she responded as one would at Court and not as one who was in love.
"You are too kind, Your Highness," she would reply softly, quickly changing the subject.
The evenings had grown ever chillier since their arrival, for winter was fast approaching. On one such frosty night, she had crept away from the cottage to visit the place where a memorial had been made to her mother and sat there for a long while, pondering the tales that her father had told that evening. He had told of her mother's arrival in Mirkwood, how the king had taken her in and given her a home. Isabella had heard the tale many times and could still almost hear her mother's voice saying, "If ever there is a favor that you can pay King Thranduil or his family, then do. For he was kind to me when I had nowhere else to go. If not for him, Isabella, you would not be here." And that is why Isabella was so willing to shelter Thranduil's son; why she would be willing to die for the king if need be; and why she wanted more than anything to join the Royal Guard.
Sighing, she stood up. She missed her mother to the point that it chilled her to the bones, so she walked slowly toward the stables where a dim light glowed from beneath the door. The hint of a smile played upon her lips, knowing that Calen must be waiting for her within.
The old barn door creaked as she entered and Calen turned abruptly toward her, his eyes filling with relief. "I was worried, Isabella. You did not tell us where you were going."
"Forgive me," she said as she closed the door behind herself.
He approached her quietly and captured her icy hands in his, rubbing warmth into them as he gazed into her eyes. "It is too cold to be out for so long."
"It is not that cold, Calen, save for the wind."
He lifted her hands to kiss them, still rubbing softly with his thumbs. "How do you keep them so soft?"
She blushed and looked away. "The wool, Calen. Have you never noticed that when a young Lady's heart has been stolen, she takes to spinning wool into yarn? It softens the hands, you see."
He caught her gaze once again and smiled. "You have been spinning almost constantly since our arrival. Tell me, has the Prince of Mirkwood caught your fancy?"
She returned his smile. "The prince is handsome and kind, but it is not for him that I soften my hands."
"Then who is it that occupies your thoughts as you spin, Lady Isabella?"
For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, gazing at the floor, she murmured, "If I told you, I fear that you would only laugh, My Lord."
"I very much doubt that," he replied, "but whoever he is, he's a very lucky Elf."
"Do you really believe that?" she asked shyly.
"Yes, I believe it. Even Prince Legolas has grown quite fond of you, you know. What would you do if he asked for your hand?"
She laughed. "He would never!"
"Do not be so sure," said Calen, "He courts you like he has courted no other since we began our journey."
"You're serious."
"Yes I am," he replied. "What would you do?"
She sighed. "Oh, Calen, my heart does not lie with the prince, but if he asked for my hand…. Well…. I supposed that I would do my duty and marry him."
"That is as it should be. But, with whom does your heart lie?" asked the warrior as he leaned near, his lips almost brushing her ear. He felt her hands tremble slightly as he held them firmly.
"You, Calen," she whispered. "My heart lies with you."
Their gazes met once again before he tipped her chin up and gently kissed her lips. "And mine with you," he replied, his heart growing light as he realized that the crown had no affect on her. "And mine with you."