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 Kinsman (emi_kins@yahoo.com)
17.
"You want to see me wed to your cousin?" Legolas asked Merethiel. He was puzzled. "Why?"
"Because you are the only Elf she has ever shown any true romantic interest in."
"That cannot be true! What about Dimnarion?"
"Dimnarion?" The Lady shook her head, "He is fair to look upon. That is a fact that even she would not argue. However, her heart feels nothing for him aside from friendship."
Legolas could not stop a small grin from spreading across his features. "Does her heart… perhaps… feel something more than friendship for me?"
"That is for her to tell; not I." Merethiel giggled and began to walk down a path into the dusky wood.
The Prince followed. "My only wish is that I could see her now."
Merethiel halted in her tracks and turned to face him. "You can." She grinned. "Or rather we can. You and I together. Come. Follow me."
***
"This should warm you nicely," said Dimnarion softly as he handed Elenath the goblet of hot tea, allowing his fingers to linger against hers for a moment longer than necessary.
"Thank you, my lord." She delighted in the rich flavor of the tea once again, absorbing its warmth in the evening chill. More than anything, she wanted to relax; to believe that the Prince's bodyguard was an honorable Elf. Yet, she could not help but notice the fact that Calmakil was pulsing angrily from its place on her wall. She closed her eyes for a moment, and to her surprise, felt the warmth of her guest's gentle hand against her cheek.
"How do you feel?" he asked, his eyes full of concern.
"Fine," she answered, her own hand covering his calmly and pulling it away from her face. She smiled at him reassuringly. "I do not understand why Grandfather sent me to bed." Sitting up, she began to work at the clasp that held her hair captive with both hands.
Dimnarion watched her, adoration bright in his eyes. "Lord Elrond is wise to protect his granddaughter so. Grimleaf is a strange poison. For hours it may lay dormant. Then, suddenly, it rears its ugly head."
"Like this afternoon." She sighed.
"Yes, Dear One. Like this afternoon."
She let her hands drop to her lap and shook her head. "Dimnarion, forgive me for my harsh words this afternoon. I –"
"Think nothing of it," he said. "Please, Princess."
"But you were only trying to help and-"
"Shhh." He gently placed a finger over her lips and smiled. "The Sword is new to you. It will take time to become used to its… moods, if you will."
"Thank you for understanding," she said, reaching up again to the clasp and sighing in frustration when it would not budge. "Drat that silly handmaiden. What did she do, tie my hair in a knot?"
Dimnarion's deep, rumbling laugh echoed through her chambers. "Here, Love. Let me help you." He sat next to her on the bed and deftly reached around her neck with both arms.
He leaned so near that she could feel the warmth of his skin and could hear his breath in her ear as he fumbled with the clasp. The clean scent of the earth after a rainstorm surrounded her and she sighed, relaxing forward, resting her head momentarily on his shoulder. It was only when her hair fell free, down about her shoulders and to her waist that she came back to herself and realized he was speaking strange words to her – words of some language she had never heard.
"Ixanliz chagla se metzlach me zet. Ghlovleta xiantikle me lach…"
His words seemed to wrap around her, paralyzing her from the inside out and she was relieved when he stopped and gazed deeply into her eyes. "Like black silk," he whispered, running his fingers through her long tresses. "So beautiful… and your eyes like fathomless pools… Nay… I cannot help myself, fool that I am." With that, his mouth closed upon hers with unbridled passion, his hands caressing her face, her neck, her arms so gently…
Elenath's body responded with pliable warmth, but inside she was terrified. She wanted to push him away and to call for help, but she could not. It was as if she was trapped within herself.
After a long moment, he stopped and pulled away with great reluctance, whispering as he went, "Se metzlach; me lach, Elenath… Forgive me. I could not help myself."
She still could not speak as he helped her to lay back against her pillows, kissed her forehead on the very spot that Gandalf had, and turned to leave. He got as far as the doorway before she found her voice at last.
"Dimnarion."
"Yes, my lady?"
She sat up unsteadily. "Never – never – kiss me without my permission. Is that clear?" The last three words were spoken with quite a bit of force.
He grinned darkly in the doorway. "Spoken like a true princess," he laughed. "But soon you will crave my kisses, mark my words. Good night, Elenath. Xanchaldi kantilach se zar!" He waved a hand and was gone.
A wave of nausea hit her and she fell back again, curling into a ball and clutching her stomach. Tears welled in her eyes and fell down her face as she cried out in agony. "Help! Guards!"
It was not the palace guards but Merethiel and Legolas that rushed to her side, eyes wide with worry. "What? What is it?"
Elenath blanched. Why was she calling for help? Suddenly she could not remember. Only vague shadows of a figure bending over her haunted her mind. It must have been a horrible dream, but it had seemed so real but a moment ago. Yes. Dimnarion had brought her tea and then she had fallen asleep and had a terrible nightmare. And now she was ill; so very ill. "I don't know," she sobbed, still holding her stomach. "I… I think that I'm dying."
"Stay with her, Legolas. I'm going to get Grandfather!" Merethiel dashed from the room, screaming for Elrond as she went, leaving the prince alone with one very ill princess.
"What can I do?" he asked, kneeling by her side. "Tell me. I cannot bear to see you suffer so."
She shook her head, "I don't know. Just stay here with me. Please." Suddenly a pain so fierce took her that she screamed and writhed in anguish.
Legolas could not just sit there, helpless. He knew a little of the healing arts. All Elves did. Closing his eyes he laid hands on her and began to sing a healing song while praying that Elrond was not far away.
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 Kinsman (emi_kins@yahoo.com)
17.
"You want to see me wed to your cousin?" Legolas asked Merethiel. He was puzzled. "Why?"
"Because you are the only Elf she has ever shown any true romantic interest in."
"That cannot be true! What about Dimnarion?"
"Dimnarion?" The Lady shook her head, "He is fair to look upon. That is a fact that even she would not argue. However, her heart feels nothing for him aside from friendship."
Legolas could not stop a small grin from spreading across his features. "Does her heart… perhaps… feel something more than friendship for me?"
"That is for her to tell; not I." Merethiel giggled and began to walk down a path into the dusky wood.
The Prince followed. "My only wish is that I could see her now."
Merethiel halted in her tracks and turned to face him. "You can." She grinned. "Or rather we can. You and I together. Come. Follow me."
***
"This should warm you nicely," said Dimnarion softly as he handed Elenath the goblet of hot tea, allowing his fingers to linger against hers for a moment longer than necessary.
"Thank you, my lord." She delighted in the rich flavor of the tea once again, absorbing its warmth in the evening chill. More than anything, she wanted to relax; to believe that the Prince's bodyguard was an honorable Elf. Yet, she could not help but notice the fact that Calmakil was pulsing angrily from its place on her wall. She closed her eyes for a moment, and to her surprise, felt the warmth of her guest's gentle hand against her cheek.
"How do you feel?" he asked, his eyes full of concern.
"Fine," she answered, her own hand covering his calmly and pulling it away from her face. She smiled at him reassuringly. "I do not understand why Grandfather sent me to bed." Sitting up, she began to work at the clasp that held her hair captive with both hands.
Dimnarion watched her, adoration bright in his eyes. "Lord Elrond is wise to protect his granddaughter so. Grimleaf is a strange poison. For hours it may lay dormant. Then, suddenly, it rears its ugly head."
"Like this afternoon." She sighed.
"Yes, Dear One. Like this afternoon."
She let her hands drop to her lap and shook her head. "Dimnarion, forgive me for my harsh words this afternoon. I –"
"Think nothing of it," he said. "Please, Princess."
"But you were only trying to help and-"
"Shhh." He gently placed a finger over her lips and smiled. "The Sword is new to you. It will take time to become used to its… moods, if you will."
"Thank you for understanding," she said, reaching up again to the clasp and sighing in frustration when it would not budge. "Drat that silly handmaiden. What did she do, tie my hair in a knot?"
Dimnarion's deep, rumbling laugh echoed through her chambers. "Here, Love. Let me help you." He sat next to her on the bed and deftly reached around her neck with both arms.
He leaned so near that she could feel the warmth of his skin and could hear his breath in her ear as he fumbled with the clasp. The clean scent of the earth after a rainstorm surrounded her and she sighed, relaxing forward, resting her head momentarily on his shoulder. It was only when her hair fell free, down about her shoulders and to her waist that she came back to herself and realized he was speaking strange words to her – words of some language she had never heard.
"Ixanliz chagla se metzlach me zet. Ghlovleta xiantikle me lach…"
His words seemed to wrap around her, paralyzing her from the inside out and she was relieved when he stopped and gazed deeply into her eyes. "Like black silk," he whispered, running his fingers through her long tresses. "So beautiful… and your eyes like fathomless pools… Nay… I cannot help myself, fool that I am." With that, his mouth closed upon hers with unbridled passion, his hands caressing her face, her neck, her arms so gently…
Elenath's body responded with pliable warmth, but inside she was terrified. She wanted to push him away and to call for help, but she could not. It was as if she was trapped within herself.
After a long moment, he stopped and pulled away with great reluctance, whispering as he went, "Se metzlach; me lach, Elenath… Forgive me. I could not help myself."
She still could not speak as he helped her to lay back against her pillows, kissed her forehead on the very spot that Gandalf had, and turned to leave. He got as far as the doorway before she found her voice at last.
"Dimnarion."
"Yes, my lady?"
She sat up unsteadily. "Never – never – kiss me without my permission. Is that clear?" The last three words were spoken with quite a bit of force.
He grinned darkly in the doorway. "Spoken like a true princess," he laughed. "But soon you will crave my kisses, mark my words. Good night, Elenath. Xanchaldi kantilach se zar!" He waved a hand and was gone.
A wave of nausea hit her and she fell back again, curling into a ball and clutching her stomach. Tears welled in her eyes and fell down her face as she cried out in agony. "Help! Guards!"
It was not the palace guards but Merethiel and Legolas that rushed to her side, eyes wide with worry. "What? What is it?"
Elenath blanched. Why was she calling for help? Suddenly she could not remember. Only vague shadows of a figure bending over her haunted her mind. It must have been a horrible dream, but it had seemed so real but a moment ago. Yes. Dimnarion had brought her tea and then she had fallen asleep and had a terrible nightmare. And now she was ill; so very ill. "I don't know," she sobbed, still holding her stomach. "I… I think that I'm dying."
"Stay with her, Legolas. I'm going to get Grandfather!" Merethiel dashed from the room, screaming for Elrond as she went, leaving the prince alone with one very ill princess.
"What can I do?" he asked, kneeling by her side. "Tell me. I cannot bear to see you suffer so."
She shook her head, "I don't know. Just stay here with me. Please." Suddenly a pain so fierce took her that she screamed and writhed in anguish.
Legolas could not just sit there, helpless. He knew a little of the healing arts. All Elves did. Closing his eyes he laid hands on her and began to sing a healing song while praying that Elrond was not far away.
