Idylls of the King: The Queen
Thanks and love to all those who reviewed!-morrigan
Jasmine…green, and…sandalwood? Since when did his chambers smell like perfume? Aragorn groaned, shifting as he came awake, but was still too tired to open his eyes. His head throbbed oddly, as if he had been drinking all night…did he? As the King struggled to remember, he suddenly felt a hand on his forehead. He realized that he wasn't even in his own room, and could very well be still lying on the forest floor, with some robbing cur bent over him. Aragorn lay very still, his eyes shut, and bided his time.
He didn't have to wait very long. The instant the hand lifted from his brow, Aragorn shot up, grabbing the offending wrist with one hand and recovering the dagger from his boot with the other. But when he attempted to open his eyes to see just whom he had captured, he found that couldn't, for they were held shut with some sort of blindfold.
Now enraged, Aragorn gave a hard yank on the wrist he held, and was rewarded with a startled cry and a clatter as something crashed to the floor. His keen senses anticipated the movement of the person's other hand, and he quickly caught the other wrist as well, imprisoning it with its mate in his strong grasp. Breathing harshly, the King brought his blade to press against the unfamiliar neck, and heard the stranger catch a fearful breath.
"Who are you, to dare and attack the King? Tell me, and I may spare your life."
His question was greeted with silence, than he heard a string of something he supposed to be words, light and trilling and flowing into one another as if they were carried on water, not air. It was at the same time the most strange and most beautiful thing Aragorn had ever heard, and his knife wavered as he tried to comprehend what he had just heard.
"What…what are you saying? I do not understand." More melodious sounds followed, and the King felt lost and utterly confused. "Who are you…what are you?"
Before he could be answered, he heard a door open, and quicker than he could react, both his prisoner and his dagger were whisked away from him. Aragorn made as if to leap up and fight, but two hands firmly pushed him back down, before mercifully removing his blindfold.
His gaze fuzzed and flickered, before clearing to take in his strange…exotic, even, surroundings. He found himself in some sort of stone- walled room, almost like a cave. In niches and upon table surfaces candles blazed cheerily, and the whole space was perfumed by the flowers and fauna that hung from the walls. He was resting upon a low bed, and upon a chair at his head, sat the most lovely and frightening thing he had ever seen, a woman who seemed to cast a glow not unlike that of the moon. She was tall, even while sitting, and Aragorn didn't doubt that she would tower over his own frame. Her dark golden hair hung in ringlets over her shoulders to meet her waist, pulled back from her brow with metal ornaments studded with pearls and chiming discs. Her glistening white gown pooled around her feet, voluminous skirts spilling from a tight bodice that was sewn with gold thread. Upon her forehead she bore a metal circlet, woven of gold and silver, and centering upon the moon-shaped mark in the center of her brow.
Aragorn held his breath, not trusting himself to move without somehow upsetting or angering the young woman…at least, her face was young, but her silver-blue eyes held a darkness and wisdom that only came with an age of many, many hard years. She calmly retuned his gaze, before speaking. Much to the King's amazement and relief, she spoke the tongue of his homeland.
"I am pleased to see that are awake and able after such a fall, and such a deep wound to the head. You have been asleep for two days, in your time reckoning, at least. How are you feeling now?"
Aragorn cleared his throat, trying to find his voice. "I-I am well, my lady. The sleep did me much good, although my head hurts anew."
The woman smiled thinly, amused as she slowly reached towards his brow with a cloth. When she pulled away to show it to him, he found it stained with his blood. "You have opened the cut again when you accosted your healer".
"Oh…" Aragorn suddenly felt embarrassed. "Was that you? I am awfully sorry, fair lady, but I was unsure of where I was".
"I know; your actions were understandable. But nay, it was not me you startled, but my grandson, who was tending to your wound".
"I wish to see him, to apologize".
The woman held up her hand, dismissing his request with such ease and coolness Aragorn knew he was in the presence of no mere woman, but an experienced queen. "Later, hasty child. Let us first discuss who you are, and just how one of your kind came to be here".
"Yes, my La-wait…what, pray tell, do you mean by 'your kind'? I am no commoner, if that is what you think. I am Aragorn Elessar, High King of Gondor, and no one, especially no woman, not even a queen, shall address me with such disrespect".
As soon as he had said it, Aragorn knew it had been a mistake. The woman's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, before she stood to be suddenly engulfed in a blinding white blaze. She become no longer flesh, but terrible silver fire in female shape, and her eyes where empty black slits that fixed upon the trembling King.
He somehow heard her voice, echoing in his mind. "And how dare you address me with such disrespect, mere mortal! For my lineage and royalty surpasses all the kings and lords of Middle-Earth, and if you were to know what I truly am, the knowledge of it would leave you forever awed, King of Gondor!"
He blinked, certain that this creature would kill him in its fury, but suddenly the presence flew from his mind, and the blaze disappeared to become the woman sitting upon her chair, studying him with a gaze that was once again calm.
"I-I apologize…" Slowly, what she had said began to take hold. "You called me a mortal? Where am I? Some place of the gods? Am I dead?"
She laughed, but not unkindly. "Nay, Aragorn. I call you mortal because you are in the city of the elves, immortal folk indeed, but who live in Middle-Earth as surely as Men do. My grandson brought you here, after he found you not far from the entrance to our realm".
"Elves? I thought that they had all disappeared, to become the folk of myths, before the lives of even the earliest men". Aragorn was stunned to hear that that fair folk did indeed exist, and if it weren't for the woman's strange display, he would have denied what she was telling him. He could remember when his mother used to whisper stories of the elves, beings that she held to be just and kind. His father, on the other hand, told him to forget such things; the elves were all dead, and when they had lived, they were devious and evil creatures, enchanters that were to be avoided at all costs.
She raised an eyebrow. "No, mortal. Elves live and thrive, as they have always done, but not here. They are the folk of Valinor, a holy isle that lies far outside your westernmost sea, and the knowledge of men. Many elves of this city came from there, under my command many years ago. They and their descendants are the only elves to ever have seen Middle-Earth, and until this day none have seen a human".
"Are you their queen, then, my Lady?"
"Once I was, many years ago, before the towers of Gondor were ever built. Now my son, Thranduil, is King here. He is looking forward to meeting you, Aragorn, when are fully recovered".
"I am fine, now, your Majesty". Aragorn attempted to stand to prove his health, but his head buzzed, and his steps faltered.
"No, you are to rest in here until tomorrow. I will leave you now, son of Arathorn. No doubt you have many things to think of". She stood to leave, but first helped Aragorn lie back down.
"Lady?" He called, as she was about the leave the room. "Again, I wish to see your grandson, and apologize for my behavior".
"I expect you to meet the whole royal family tomorrow, as they are very curious. You may apologize then". Anticipating his next question, she continued, "I have many names, mortal, but you may call me Lady Galadriel, as the elves do". She opened the door to exit out into a corridor, then closed the door behind her, leaving the King alone.
As Aragorn felt his eyelids drift close once more, he realized he still had many questions for the queen. How, exactly, did she come to speak the language of Men? How did she know his father's name? And most puzzling was the magical form she had assumed in her anger…could all elves do such things?
He attempted to ponder the issues further, but found it impossible in his renewed exhaustion. With a sigh, he rolled onto his side, then fell fast asleep to dream of elves and mystery until the morn.
A/N: well, how am I doing? Like it? Hate it? Want me to get on with the slash already? Let me know, PLEASE!
Next Chapter: Aragorn learns more about the elves, and meets the royal family…including Legolas! ^_^
Thanks and love to all those who reviewed!-morrigan
Jasmine…green, and…sandalwood? Since when did his chambers smell like perfume? Aragorn groaned, shifting as he came awake, but was still too tired to open his eyes. His head throbbed oddly, as if he had been drinking all night…did he? As the King struggled to remember, he suddenly felt a hand on his forehead. He realized that he wasn't even in his own room, and could very well be still lying on the forest floor, with some robbing cur bent over him. Aragorn lay very still, his eyes shut, and bided his time.
He didn't have to wait very long. The instant the hand lifted from his brow, Aragorn shot up, grabbing the offending wrist with one hand and recovering the dagger from his boot with the other. But when he attempted to open his eyes to see just whom he had captured, he found that couldn't, for they were held shut with some sort of blindfold.
Now enraged, Aragorn gave a hard yank on the wrist he held, and was rewarded with a startled cry and a clatter as something crashed to the floor. His keen senses anticipated the movement of the person's other hand, and he quickly caught the other wrist as well, imprisoning it with its mate in his strong grasp. Breathing harshly, the King brought his blade to press against the unfamiliar neck, and heard the stranger catch a fearful breath.
"Who are you, to dare and attack the King? Tell me, and I may spare your life."
His question was greeted with silence, than he heard a string of something he supposed to be words, light and trilling and flowing into one another as if they were carried on water, not air. It was at the same time the most strange and most beautiful thing Aragorn had ever heard, and his knife wavered as he tried to comprehend what he had just heard.
"What…what are you saying? I do not understand." More melodious sounds followed, and the King felt lost and utterly confused. "Who are you…what are you?"
Before he could be answered, he heard a door open, and quicker than he could react, both his prisoner and his dagger were whisked away from him. Aragorn made as if to leap up and fight, but two hands firmly pushed him back down, before mercifully removing his blindfold.
His gaze fuzzed and flickered, before clearing to take in his strange…exotic, even, surroundings. He found himself in some sort of stone- walled room, almost like a cave. In niches and upon table surfaces candles blazed cheerily, and the whole space was perfumed by the flowers and fauna that hung from the walls. He was resting upon a low bed, and upon a chair at his head, sat the most lovely and frightening thing he had ever seen, a woman who seemed to cast a glow not unlike that of the moon. She was tall, even while sitting, and Aragorn didn't doubt that she would tower over his own frame. Her dark golden hair hung in ringlets over her shoulders to meet her waist, pulled back from her brow with metal ornaments studded with pearls and chiming discs. Her glistening white gown pooled around her feet, voluminous skirts spilling from a tight bodice that was sewn with gold thread. Upon her forehead she bore a metal circlet, woven of gold and silver, and centering upon the moon-shaped mark in the center of her brow.
Aragorn held his breath, not trusting himself to move without somehow upsetting or angering the young woman…at least, her face was young, but her silver-blue eyes held a darkness and wisdom that only came with an age of many, many hard years. She calmly retuned his gaze, before speaking. Much to the King's amazement and relief, she spoke the tongue of his homeland.
"I am pleased to see that are awake and able after such a fall, and such a deep wound to the head. You have been asleep for two days, in your time reckoning, at least. How are you feeling now?"
Aragorn cleared his throat, trying to find his voice. "I-I am well, my lady. The sleep did me much good, although my head hurts anew."
The woman smiled thinly, amused as she slowly reached towards his brow with a cloth. When she pulled away to show it to him, he found it stained with his blood. "You have opened the cut again when you accosted your healer".
"Oh…" Aragorn suddenly felt embarrassed. "Was that you? I am awfully sorry, fair lady, but I was unsure of where I was".
"I know; your actions were understandable. But nay, it was not me you startled, but my grandson, who was tending to your wound".
"I wish to see him, to apologize".
The woman held up her hand, dismissing his request with such ease and coolness Aragorn knew he was in the presence of no mere woman, but an experienced queen. "Later, hasty child. Let us first discuss who you are, and just how one of your kind came to be here".
"Yes, my La-wait…what, pray tell, do you mean by 'your kind'? I am no commoner, if that is what you think. I am Aragorn Elessar, High King of Gondor, and no one, especially no woman, not even a queen, shall address me with such disrespect".
As soon as he had said it, Aragorn knew it had been a mistake. The woman's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, before she stood to be suddenly engulfed in a blinding white blaze. She become no longer flesh, but terrible silver fire in female shape, and her eyes where empty black slits that fixed upon the trembling King.
He somehow heard her voice, echoing in his mind. "And how dare you address me with such disrespect, mere mortal! For my lineage and royalty surpasses all the kings and lords of Middle-Earth, and if you were to know what I truly am, the knowledge of it would leave you forever awed, King of Gondor!"
He blinked, certain that this creature would kill him in its fury, but suddenly the presence flew from his mind, and the blaze disappeared to become the woman sitting upon her chair, studying him with a gaze that was once again calm.
"I-I apologize…" Slowly, what she had said began to take hold. "You called me a mortal? Where am I? Some place of the gods? Am I dead?"
She laughed, but not unkindly. "Nay, Aragorn. I call you mortal because you are in the city of the elves, immortal folk indeed, but who live in Middle-Earth as surely as Men do. My grandson brought you here, after he found you not far from the entrance to our realm".
"Elves? I thought that they had all disappeared, to become the folk of myths, before the lives of even the earliest men". Aragorn was stunned to hear that that fair folk did indeed exist, and if it weren't for the woman's strange display, he would have denied what she was telling him. He could remember when his mother used to whisper stories of the elves, beings that she held to be just and kind. His father, on the other hand, told him to forget such things; the elves were all dead, and when they had lived, they were devious and evil creatures, enchanters that were to be avoided at all costs.
She raised an eyebrow. "No, mortal. Elves live and thrive, as they have always done, but not here. They are the folk of Valinor, a holy isle that lies far outside your westernmost sea, and the knowledge of men. Many elves of this city came from there, under my command many years ago. They and their descendants are the only elves to ever have seen Middle-Earth, and until this day none have seen a human".
"Are you their queen, then, my Lady?"
"Once I was, many years ago, before the towers of Gondor were ever built. Now my son, Thranduil, is King here. He is looking forward to meeting you, Aragorn, when are fully recovered".
"I am fine, now, your Majesty". Aragorn attempted to stand to prove his health, but his head buzzed, and his steps faltered.
"No, you are to rest in here until tomorrow. I will leave you now, son of Arathorn. No doubt you have many things to think of". She stood to leave, but first helped Aragorn lie back down.
"Lady?" He called, as she was about the leave the room. "Again, I wish to see your grandson, and apologize for my behavior".
"I expect you to meet the whole royal family tomorrow, as they are very curious. You may apologize then". Anticipating his next question, she continued, "I have many names, mortal, but you may call me Lady Galadriel, as the elves do". She opened the door to exit out into a corridor, then closed the door behind her, leaving the King alone.
As Aragorn felt his eyelids drift close once more, he realized he still had many questions for the queen. How, exactly, did she come to speak the language of Men? How did she know his father's name? And most puzzling was the magical form she had assumed in her anger…could all elves do such things?
He attempted to ponder the issues further, but found it impossible in his renewed exhaustion. With a sigh, he rolled onto his side, then fell fast asleep to dream of elves and mystery until the morn.
A/N: well, how am I doing? Like it? Hate it? Want me to get on with the slash already? Let me know, PLEASE!
Next Chapter: Aragorn learns more about the elves, and meets the royal family…including Legolas! ^_^