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)
10.
On and on their path seemed to lead them. For hours after the sun had set they rode on in silence, Isabella allowing the prince to hold her against himself as she gathered her thoughts and willed her spirits to rise. Legolas' serene strength seemed to surround her, and as they traveled through the whirling snow, she fell into the first deep sleep she had known in many weeks and dreamed of her mother.
***
It was pitch black and snowing furiously when Isabella came to herself again. She had no idea how she had come to be where she was: wrapped in many blankets and cloaks beneath an outcropping of rock. Sitting up slowly, she noticed that someone had unbound her hair and loosened her clothing. Nearby a small fire had been lit, and she could see Prince Legolas and Calen clearly in its light, talking in low whispers as they had at her father's cottage. They were beautiful, the two of them, and she loved them both: Legolas with his noble temperament and comforting words; and perfect, wonderful Calen who made her heart beat faster. Calen who loved her for who she was and who could calm her fears with a single glance. She longed for his warm embrace now as the cold seeped through the blankets to her.
"Calen," she whispered before she could stop herself.
He heard her and rose at once, pausing uncertainly to glance at the prince.
"Go to her," he said quietly, also standing. "I will leave you for a time. Bring her what comfort you can, my friend."
She shifted slightly as the blankets slipped, allowing the cold air access to her skin. A small shiver ran through her as Calen neared and sat beside her.
"How do you feel, Lady?" he asked, gently brushing a few strands of hair from her face. She was so beautiful like this, her hair hanging about her face and her eyes full of undisguised love. He could tell that she was not yet on her guard. Such deep sleep was not common among Elves, and those who experienced it often found it difficult to recover.
"Oh, Calen," she whispered, "I know not how I feel… except that I still love you."
"Isabella…" His gaze traveled over her as she freed herself from the blankets. Her gown hung loosely about her and she reminded him of a frightened child. "Please, let me hold you, My Love."
She nodded and fell into his outstretched arms, burying her face in his golden hair, inhaling his scent and whispering words of love in his ear. "Just once more… once more and I shall remember it always…"
He did not speak, but pulled her near, gazing deep into her eyes as his hands caressed her. His fingertips grazed her cheeks and explored the curve of her neck, and his lips followed suit, finally capturing her mouth as she lost control of the tears she had been suppressing all day. They streamed down her face and she gasped for air when he ended the kiss, her quiet sobs and whimpers breaking his heart.
She fell asleep again as she wept, though not so deeply this time. She stirred as he wrapped her in the blankets, for an icy chill had descended upon her once again. He kicked himself for doing this to her. He should have stayed away, yet he could not. Even now, he could not bear to leave her side, and he kissed her gently again and again until his friend returned.
"How is she?" asked Legolas, startled to see tear tracks down Calen's face.
He shook his head. "I have only made it worse, I am afraid. She is so cold… I should have stayed away, but I am just an impatient fool. My friend… we must tell her the truth. I fear that she will not make it to the palace if we do not."
"We cannot," replied the prince, "Though I do agree with you. I have awakened one of our guards and sent him with great haste to the palace. If he rides hard, we should be met tomorrow evening by a larger contingent from Thranduil's Royal Guard. At that time, we can tell her." He smiled.
***
Isabella woke again at dawn's first light to the sound of pouring rain. What was left of the snow was a slushy mess now, and though the air had warmed considerably, a definite chill was present. The Elves' breath still sent puffs of steam into the air, and Isabella began to shiver almost at once. Soon, though, she was numb again and, after allowing Hwestawen to help with her laces and her hair, she climbed onto her horse in a daze and followed behind the others.
It was midday when the prince suddenly halted in front of them, looking around the forest as if there was something wrong. Herudir stopped as well, his brow furrowing as he tilted his head to one side. Then Isabella heard it too.
Hoof beats. Isabella heard the unmistakable sound of hoof beats pursuing them once again.
"We must fly," said Legolas calmly, spurring his horse into a gallop. All followed, racing through the Wood with great speed. Yet the hoof beets gained and grew louder.
Perhaps this is where I will meet my end, thought Isabella as she hurtled through the Wood, blinded by her tears. I suppose it is for the best…
The Elves were able to catch fleeting glances of their pursuers now when they looked back. They were Men. Ragged men with tattered clothing and shaggy hair, and they leered at Isabella as if she were a piece of meat to be devoured.
Nearer and nearer they drew toward Mirkwood's future princess, and faster and faster she fled into the Wood behind her friends. Yet she did not really care but for the sake of Hwestawen if she lived or died.
"The bridge has flooded!" came Calen's cry from the front of the pack. "We must turn and fight!"
All pulled their horses up short and lined up along the swollen banks of the river, weapons drawn. Hwestawen was visibly shaking, but her sword was drawn and Isabella nodded to her. "Fight bravely, Cousin. You will do just fine."
The battle was joined so quickly that Isabella's fighting instincts took over. She fought with all of the skill that her father had trained her to use, positioning herself in front of the prince despite his protests. Listening to the Men, she found out they believed Mirkwood belonged to them, and wanted to kill the prince to make their point to King Thranduil. It was the craziest thing that Isabella had ever heard and all were felled by Elven swords or arrows within a quarter of an hour. All except for one who charged at Hwestawen with his sword drawn.
The Lady panicked as her horse reared up in fear. And, although the Man fell with six arrows through his chest, Hwestawen shrieked and splashed into the swollen river, the current grabbing her in its icy clutches and pulling her away rapidly until she was completely out of reach of the shore.
At the moment her cousin hit the water, something snapped in Isabella's heart. With a fierce yell, she dove into the raging flood as well, not willing to let Hwestawen get away. "You took my mother!" she screamed at the river. "You took my mother, but you will not have my cousin!"
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)
10.
On and on their path seemed to lead them. For hours after the sun had set they rode on in silence, Isabella allowing the prince to hold her against himself as she gathered her thoughts and willed her spirits to rise. Legolas' serene strength seemed to surround her, and as they traveled through the whirling snow, she fell into the first deep sleep she had known in many weeks and dreamed of her mother.
***
It was pitch black and snowing furiously when Isabella came to herself again. She had no idea how she had come to be where she was: wrapped in many blankets and cloaks beneath an outcropping of rock. Sitting up slowly, she noticed that someone had unbound her hair and loosened her clothing. Nearby a small fire had been lit, and she could see Prince Legolas and Calen clearly in its light, talking in low whispers as they had at her father's cottage. They were beautiful, the two of them, and she loved them both: Legolas with his noble temperament and comforting words; and perfect, wonderful Calen who made her heart beat faster. Calen who loved her for who she was and who could calm her fears with a single glance. She longed for his warm embrace now as the cold seeped through the blankets to her.
"Calen," she whispered before she could stop herself.
He heard her and rose at once, pausing uncertainly to glance at the prince.
"Go to her," he said quietly, also standing. "I will leave you for a time. Bring her what comfort you can, my friend."
She shifted slightly as the blankets slipped, allowing the cold air access to her skin. A small shiver ran through her as Calen neared and sat beside her.
"How do you feel, Lady?" he asked, gently brushing a few strands of hair from her face. She was so beautiful like this, her hair hanging about her face and her eyes full of undisguised love. He could tell that she was not yet on her guard. Such deep sleep was not common among Elves, and those who experienced it often found it difficult to recover.
"Oh, Calen," she whispered, "I know not how I feel… except that I still love you."
"Isabella…" His gaze traveled over her as she freed herself from the blankets. Her gown hung loosely about her and she reminded him of a frightened child. "Please, let me hold you, My Love."
She nodded and fell into his outstretched arms, burying her face in his golden hair, inhaling his scent and whispering words of love in his ear. "Just once more… once more and I shall remember it always…"
He did not speak, but pulled her near, gazing deep into her eyes as his hands caressed her. His fingertips grazed her cheeks and explored the curve of her neck, and his lips followed suit, finally capturing her mouth as she lost control of the tears she had been suppressing all day. They streamed down her face and she gasped for air when he ended the kiss, her quiet sobs and whimpers breaking his heart.
She fell asleep again as she wept, though not so deeply this time. She stirred as he wrapped her in the blankets, for an icy chill had descended upon her once again. He kicked himself for doing this to her. He should have stayed away, yet he could not. Even now, he could not bear to leave her side, and he kissed her gently again and again until his friend returned.
"How is she?" asked Legolas, startled to see tear tracks down Calen's face.
He shook his head. "I have only made it worse, I am afraid. She is so cold… I should have stayed away, but I am just an impatient fool. My friend… we must tell her the truth. I fear that she will not make it to the palace if we do not."
"We cannot," replied the prince, "Though I do agree with you. I have awakened one of our guards and sent him with great haste to the palace. If he rides hard, we should be met tomorrow evening by a larger contingent from Thranduil's Royal Guard. At that time, we can tell her." He smiled.
***
Isabella woke again at dawn's first light to the sound of pouring rain. What was left of the snow was a slushy mess now, and though the air had warmed considerably, a definite chill was present. The Elves' breath still sent puffs of steam into the air, and Isabella began to shiver almost at once. Soon, though, she was numb again and, after allowing Hwestawen to help with her laces and her hair, she climbed onto her horse in a daze and followed behind the others.
It was midday when the prince suddenly halted in front of them, looking around the forest as if there was something wrong. Herudir stopped as well, his brow furrowing as he tilted his head to one side. Then Isabella heard it too.
Hoof beats. Isabella heard the unmistakable sound of hoof beats pursuing them once again.
"We must fly," said Legolas calmly, spurring his horse into a gallop. All followed, racing through the Wood with great speed. Yet the hoof beets gained and grew louder.
Perhaps this is where I will meet my end, thought Isabella as she hurtled through the Wood, blinded by her tears. I suppose it is for the best…
The Elves were able to catch fleeting glances of their pursuers now when they looked back. They were Men. Ragged men with tattered clothing and shaggy hair, and they leered at Isabella as if she were a piece of meat to be devoured.
Nearer and nearer they drew toward Mirkwood's future princess, and faster and faster she fled into the Wood behind her friends. Yet she did not really care but for the sake of Hwestawen if she lived or died.
"The bridge has flooded!" came Calen's cry from the front of the pack. "We must turn and fight!"
All pulled their horses up short and lined up along the swollen banks of the river, weapons drawn. Hwestawen was visibly shaking, but her sword was drawn and Isabella nodded to her. "Fight bravely, Cousin. You will do just fine."
The battle was joined so quickly that Isabella's fighting instincts took over. She fought with all of the skill that her father had trained her to use, positioning herself in front of the prince despite his protests. Listening to the Men, she found out they believed Mirkwood belonged to them, and wanted to kill the prince to make their point to King Thranduil. It was the craziest thing that Isabella had ever heard and all were felled by Elven swords or arrows within a quarter of an hour. All except for one who charged at Hwestawen with his sword drawn.
The Lady panicked as her horse reared up in fear. And, although the Man fell with six arrows through his chest, Hwestawen shrieked and splashed into the swollen river, the current grabbing her in its icy clutches and pulling her away rapidly until she was completely out of reach of the shore.
At the moment her cousin hit the water, something snapped in Isabella's heart. With a fierce yell, she dove into the raging flood as well, not willing to let Hwestawen get away. "You took my mother!" she screamed at the river. "You took my mother, but you will not have my cousin!"