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)
18.
His musical voice wrapped around her like a warm blanket and she began to relax, focusing on his words and on his eyes. Elenath knew as well as Legolas that healing songs were much more effective when a physical touch was used and she cautiously slid her hand over his where it rested against her belly. He smiled when she did so, gracing her cheek with a light caress. They remained that way for a long moment after the song ended and Elenath's pain was mostly gone.
"The Sword," she whispered at last.
He nodded and reluctantly stepped away from her, walking around her bed. Awe-struck, he gently removed Calmakil from its mount on the wall and turned it over once in his hands. It was the most beautiful piece of craftsmanship he had ever seen in a weapon, and he could almost feel the power emanating from it. An audible gasp escaped him before he turned and offered the hilt of the weapon to her. "It is beautiful."
"Yes," she answered. "I shan't put it aside again." When she reached out to take it, it immediately surrounded her with a bright light. Warm fingers of power pressed into her, drawing out the poison she did not know was there, and she had to lunge for the waste container at her bedside. Again she retched, breaking out into a cold sweat as her body trembled violently.
The prince was behind her at once, sweeping her long black tresses away from her face and holding them back with one hand, offering support with his other. "My poor Willow," he whispered soothingly as she lay back upon her pillows, her hand still clutching Calmakil. "Let me help you with the Sword," he said. "It will be right here. Within easy reach, my lady."
She tried to thank him, but the moment he touched Calmakil, the entire room lit up with brilliant light. Light that surrounded them both and seemed to draw them into each other. Hands clasped, their foreheads touched and their minds were transported to the past – Dimnarion leaning over her bed, taking what was not rightfully his, grinning arrogantly as he left the room. Legolas drew Elenath near in a comforting embrace as she shuddered, and the scene shifted to the future. The prince and princess of Mirkwood there in that room, a tiny dark-headed child in the princess' arms. And the sword spoke. "I have plans to prosper you; not to harm you…. You must trust me, Child."
It was in this way that Elrond, Merethiel, and Gandalf found Elenath and Legolas. Still engulfed by the light, forehead to forehead, the princess' dark locks mingling with the prince's fair ones, fingers entwined, they sat motionless upon the bed.
"What-" began Elrond, but Gandalf stopped him.
"Silence," he hissed, "there is deep magic here."
The prince whispered softly into Elenath's ear, but only the trees could be heard by the others, singing in their springtime voices along with the crickets and katydids.
"O lovers fair beneath our boughs
Think not of worldly sorrow
But feed your hearts with passion sweet
Fear not your hearts to follow
Away the sun and silver moon
May darkness hide you safely
As love's first kiss does grace your lips
And seal your fate completely…."
Elenath felt the warmth of tears upon her face as she listened to Legolas' softly spoken words. "Dimnarion had no right…. I would have protected you had I been here…"
"It was a dream, I think," she whispered. "Surely he would not have… and I would not have let him."
"I will kill him if he so much as touches you again."
"He frightens me," she admitted, "but I can take care of myself."
"Nay, Willow," he whispered. "Even the strongest warrior needs someone to watch their back in battle. Let me be that someone. Please."
For a long moment she could not speak, losing herself in the depths of his eyes. Finally four words came forth from her mouth. "When the laurel blooms."
"But you saw what the Sword showed us…"
They dared not talk about the future the Sword had showed them, for at that time, they glanced up to see the three who watched them wide-eyed.
"When the laurel blooms," she whispered again. "I cannot defy my Grandfather without at least giving his plans a chance."
Legolas reluctantly nodded, whispering, "Know that I will not leave Rivendell without you by my side." His lips lingered dangerously near to hers for a long moment, but he finally stood and turned to face Elrond as the light faded.
The Lord of Rivendell spoke in a carefully controlled voice. "Prince Legolas, your father did not tell me that you were gifted in the healing arts."
"I did naught but sing a simple song, my lord, Calmakil did the rest." Legolas paused uncertainly before adding, "You will want to post a guard at the Princess' door."
"A guard? Legolas, Rivendell is a protected realm unlike the relative wilds of Mirkwood. Such precautions are not needed-"
"Do as he says," interrupted Gandalf.
Elrond looked at him in surprise. "Mithrandir?"
"Dark magic has been done in this room, and not by the prince here," explained the Wizard. "Elenath, who visited you this night?"
"Only Dimnarion," she said, "He brought tea and then I fell asleep." She mentioned nothing about the nightmare.
Gandalf nodded. "I think I shall have a little talk with this Dimnarion. See to that guard, Elrond." With that, he left the room.
***
*Stupid!* Dimnarion again paced the floor of his chambers. *I let my desires get the best of me. And that memory block I cast will not last forever. I guess that means that my plans will need to be accelerated a bit.*
He hid the grimleaf well in his drawer and headed for the stables. Far into the night he rode until he found the camp of the Orcs and sat down to Council with them. "I will bring her to you within a fortnight," he told them. "You are not to harm her in any way. If I find that you have disobeyed, you will all die horrible deaths."
"It shall be as you wish, Master," they replied, knowing that they would be well paid.
Smirking with confidence, Dimnarion returned to the palace before daybreak.
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)
18.
His musical voice wrapped around her like a warm blanket and she began to relax, focusing on his words and on his eyes. Elenath knew as well as Legolas that healing songs were much more effective when a physical touch was used and she cautiously slid her hand over his where it rested against her belly. He smiled when she did so, gracing her cheek with a light caress. They remained that way for a long moment after the song ended and Elenath's pain was mostly gone.
"The Sword," she whispered at last.
He nodded and reluctantly stepped away from her, walking around her bed. Awe-struck, he gently removed Calmakil from its mount on the wall and turned it over once in his hands. It was the most beautiful piece of craftsmanship he had ever seen in a weapon, and he could almost feel the power emanating from it. An audible gasp escaped him before he turned and offered the hilt of the weapon to her. "It is beautiful."
"Yes," she answered. "I shan't put it aside again." When she reached out to take it, it immediately surrounded her with a bright light. Warm fingers of power pressed into her, drawing out the poison she did not know was there, and she had to lunge for the waste container at her bedside. Again she retched, breaking out into a cold sweat as her body trembled violently.
The prince was behind her at once, sweeping her long black tresses away from her face and holding them back with one hand, offering support with his other. "My poor Willow," he whispered soothingly as she lay back upon her pillows, her hand still clutching Calmakil. "Let me help you with the Sword," he said. "It will be right here. Within easy reach, my lady."
She tried to thank him, but the moment he touched Calmakil, the entire room lit up with brilliant light. Light that surrounded them both and seemed to draw them into each other. Hands clasped, their foreheads touched and their minds were transported to the past – Dimnarion leaning over her bed, taking what was not rightfully his, grinning arrogantly as he left the room. Legolas drew Elenath near in a comforting embrace as she shuddered, and the scene shifted to the future. The prince and princess of Mirkwood there in that room, a tiny dark-headed child in the princess' arms. And the sword spoke. "I have plans to prosper you; not to harm you…. You must trust me, Child."
It was in this way that Elrond, Merethiel, and Gandalf found Elenath and Legolas. Still engulfed by the light, forehead to forehead, the princess' dark locks mingling with the prince's fair ones, fingers entwined, they sat motionless upon the bed.
"What-" began Elrond, but Gandalf stopped him.
"Silence," he hissed, "there is deep magic here."
The prince whispered softly into Elenath's ear, but only the trees could be heard by the others, singing in their springtime voices along with the crickets and katydids.
"O lovers fair beneath our boughs
Think not of worldly sorrow
But feed your hearts with passion sweet
Fear not your hearts to follow
Away the sun and silver moon
May darkness hide you safely
As love's first kiss does grace your lips
And seal your fate completely…."
Elenath felt the warmth of tears upon her face as she listened to Legolas' softly spoken words. "Dimnarion had no right…. I would have protected you had I been here…"
"It was a dream, I think," she whispered. "Surely he would not have… and I would not have let him."
"I will kill him if he so much as touches you again."
"He frightens me," she admitted, "but I can take care of myself."
"Nay, Willow," he whispered. "Even the strongest warrior needs someone to watch their back in battle. Let me be that someone. Please."
For a long moment she could not speak, losing herself in the depths of his eyes. Finally four words came forth from her mouth. "When the laurel blooms."
"But you saw what the Sword showed us…"
They dared not talk about the future the Sword had showed them, for at that time, they glanced up to see the three who watched them wide-eyed.
"When the laurel blooms," she whispered again. "I cannot defy my Grandfather without at least giving his plans a chance."
Legolas reluctantly nodded, whispering, "Know that I will not leave Rivendell without you by my side." His lips lingered dangerously near to hers for a long moment, but he finally stood and turned to face Elrond as the light faded.
The Lord of Rivendell spoke in a carefully controlled voice. "Prince Legolas, your father did not tell me that you were gifted in the healing arts."
"I did naught but sing a simple song, my lord, Calmakil did the rest." Legolas paused uncertainly before adding, "You will want to post a guard at the Princess' door."
"A guard? Legolas, Rivendell is a protected realm unlike the relative wilds of Mirkwood. Such precautions are not needed-"
"Do as he says," interrupted Gandalf.
Elrond looked at him in surprise. "Mithrandir?"
"Dark magic has been done in this room, and not by the prince here," explained the Wizard. "Elenath, who visited you this night?"
"Only Dimnarion," she said, "He brought tea and then I fell asleep." She mentioned nothing about the nightmare.
Gandalf nodded. "I think I shall have a little talk with this Dimnarion. See to that guard, Elrond." With that, he left the room.
***
*Stupid!* Dimnarion again paced the floor of his chambers. *I let my desires get the best of me. And that memory block I cast will not last forever. I guess that means that my plans will need to be accelerated a bit.*
He hid the grimleaf well in his drawer and headed for the stables. Far into the night he rode until he found the camp of the Orcs and sat down to Council with them. "I will bring her to you within a fortnight," he told them. "You are not to harm her in any way. If I find that you have disobeyed, you will all die horrible deaths."
"It shall be as you wish, Master," they replied, knowing that they would be well paid.
Smirking with confidence, Dimnarion returned to the palace before daybreak.
