Follow The Dogwood
Daren paced back and forth along the granite rocks. The cave was dark, and sparse silver beams of moonlight made it's way through to light his enraged face. The damp ground crawled with creatures, and if one sat still long enough they would slowly protrude up ones body. With a growl of anger, Daren slammed his fist against the sharp rocks, receiving nothing more than a loud echo resonating through out the small cavern. Turning to the woman beside him, he grimaced with pain, pulling his throbbing hand close to his chest.
"I will kill them all!" His voice was barley audible, yet it had a finality to it, and his harsh words sliced through the stale air.
"Of course you will, Master." Another voice sounded though no more than a whisper, void of any emotion.
"I suppose you will be of no help, you mindless arc. You paid no head to me last night! Legolas was obviously the better fighter, yet you sat there like the pig you are! Why do I put up with you?" Daren growled, clenching and unclenching his fists.
"I did not mean to upset you, Master. I swear it…" The small person shook with fear, wishing for forgiveness. Moving his hand to the speaker's cheek, Daren sighed.
"Perhaps not, Chariste." His hands roamed her face, caressing her cheeks. "Although the raid at Archwood was unsuccessful, we will not be. Come." His voice was drowned out as he pressed his lips on to hers, driving her deeper into the lightness cave.
* * * *
Alakdaliel rubbed a weary hand across her eyes. Her restless night had brought her no sleep, and the moon still shown bright, nigh above. Taking a deep breath, she rose out of her bed, stretching her arms above her head. Placing a dark blue cloak around her shoulders, and pulling the hood over her face as to not attract any unwanted attention, she made her way out of the window, and towards the forest greenery below.
It was not a usual routine for Alakdaliel. Normally, she was met with a deep slumber as soon as her head hit the pillow, but tonight she found herself climbing down palace walls and wandering forest grounds. The night air was stiff, and a slight breeze combed through her hair. Although it was refreshing, a sense of eireness had comfortably settled on her shoulders, and so heavy was the wait, that Alakdaliel could not cease the shivers of her spine. Pulling her hood further down, she shrank into her cloak.
The trees shifted silently, moaning in the night air, their leaves shading any and all light that might have had the opportunity to find her. The evening was seemed unnatural; as if it had planned on depriving her of her much needed sleep, obscuring the peaceful image she had displayed in her mind of Mirkwood. The night was one of the darkest she had every met, yet she felt her eyes glaze, and her mind relax, the tenseness of her muscles slowly easing away. Her motions seemed not to be her own, controlled by some unknown source. The wind grew stronger, and for a moment, Alakdaliel felt as if she was going to be blow over, carried away by the strong gusts. Even the rhythmic beats of her very heart felt as if they were being forced and composed by another, squeezed and pumped with the force of a stampede. Her blood pounded in her ears, and the cool night air blazed against her hidden face. Gasping for breath that was not hers, Alakdaliel stopped her staggered steps, clasping her chest. Even to draw oxygen was difficult, and every movement was more and more painful. Whisperings gathered in her ears, quickly increasing in volume till they were heard over the thumping of her blood.
"Follow the Dogwood…" It seemed to be coming from right next to her, yet she could feel it echoing in the deep corridors of her mind. Denying the command, she attempted to step backward, tried to turn back towards the safety of her room, but a searing pain commenced through out Alakdaliel's body, her foot still unmoving. Before she could stop herself, the agony still burning dully on her uncontrolled limbs, her right leg moved, and than the left, continuing on the destined path.
The forest grew darker, and the palace increasingly small. She could feel the danger protruding towards her, so close she was to its grasp. Her body still denying her the right to turn around, Alakdaliel shut her eyes, blackening the vision of danger that surely lurked ahead of her. Even as her eyelids closed, she felt a heavy hand grasp her shoulder, and a sharp object at her back. The arm detained her, holding her back, and the withering pain was back again. Even aware of the weapon at her back, she remained trying to push forward, toward the path of which her motions suggested, attempting to rid herself of the torment that stung her. Realizing her struggle was futile, she gave up her vain skirmish, giving in to the pain, and pushing it to the back of her mind.
"Remain where you are." The voice was rigid and deep, though oddly, more comforting than the one that had been echoing in her head. She laughed mutely to herself at the irony of the situation. 'How could she do anything else but remain where she was, with a spear digging into her back, and a quite steady hand grasping her arm?'
"State your name and business. You are not under the authority of the King to be on Mirkwood grounds." Sighing with relief, Alakdaliel smiled, freely turning to face her captor. She was met with the distressed face of Legolas, though underneath his blue irises, she spotted a tinge of fear. His face too, relaxed when he realized who it was, but was soon followed by deep worry.
"Alakdaliel! What are you doing out here by yourself? And at this hour? What ails you?" His voice was concerned. At that moment, something triggered at the back of her mind, something that shouted at her with every bit of might it had, something that was not her own.
"I was simply exploring the grounds of Mirkwood." Why did she feel the need to lie? "I have never seen it at twilight." Though her voice was steady, her eyes betrayed herself. Alakdaliel's mind screamed at her, forcing her to smile.
"These are dark times, and a Lady should not be without an escort at night. Let me assist you back to your room." Legolas took her arm, and they began their way back toward the palace, though his mind seemed elsewhere.
"Alakdaliel…about the feast…." Legolas trailed. Suddenly, she realized.
"Rest at ease, Legolas. The crowd was entertained, was it not? That is all that matters. Think no more of it." She tried to reassure him. He nodded, though still seemed troubled.
"I would you know, Daren has been released from further duties. His actions were unacceptable, and his…display was unnecessary." Legolas squeezed her hand firmly. Alakdaliel felt her heart skip, though she knew it was her own bodies doing. Uncontrollable fear gripped her. The sound of Daren's name on anyone's tongue pulsed on her eardrums, sending anguished cries of help to her mind. Why did the mere thought of him frighten her so? Swallowing hard, she kept her emotions concealed, her face calm.
"Oh? Was he not angry?" She asked, waiting for the inevitable.
"Most angry indeed. I'd have to say, if I had not my bow and arrow there, I would have feared for my life."
Alright…weird chapter. I know, it will all come clear in the next few chapters. Thanks to all the reviewers! You guys are awesome! The next chapter or the one after it, will include parts from WOT by Robert Jordan. Hopefully it will provide some entertainment. Oh, and not to worry! That meanie Daren will have a LONG and agonizing death…if I get around to killing him! Next chapter soon to come!
Daren paced back and forth along the granite rocks. The cave was dark, and sparse silver beams of moonlight made it's way through to light his enraged face. The damp ground crawled with creatures, and if one sat still long enough they would slowly protrude up ones body. With a growl of anger, Daren slammed his fist against the sharp rocks, receiving nothing more than a loud echo resonating through out the small cavern. Turning to the woman beside him, he grimaced with pain, pulling his throbbing hand close to his chest.
"I will kill them all!" His voice was barley audible, yet it had a finality to it, and his harsh words sliced through the stale air.
"Of course you will, Master." Another voice sounded though no more than a whisper, void of any emotion.
"I suppose you will be of no help, you mindless arc. You paid no head to me last night! Legolas was obviously the better fighter, yet you sat there like the pig you are! Why do I put up with you?" Daren growled, clenching and unclenching his fists.
"I did not mean to upset you, Master. I swear it…" The small person shook with fear, wishing for forgiveness. Moving his hand to the speaker's cheek, Daren sighed.
"Perhaps not, Chariste." His hands roamed her face, caressing her cheeks. "Although the raid at Archwood was unsuccessful, we will not be. Come." His voice was drowned out as he pressed his lips on to hers, driving her deeper into the lightness cave.
* * * *
Alakdaliel rubbed a weary hand across her eyes. Her restless night had brought her no sleep, and the moon still shown bright, nigh above. Taking a deep breath, she rose out of her bed, stretching her arms above her head. Placing a dark blue cloak around her shoulders, and pulling the hood over her face as to not attract any unwanted attention, she made her way out of the window, and towards the forest greenery below.
It was not a usual routine for Alakdaliel. Normally, she was met with a deep slumber as soon as her head hit the pillow, but tonight she found herself climbing down palace walls and wandering forest grounds. The night air was stiff, and a slight breeze combed through her hair. Although it was refreshing, a sense of eireness had comfortably settled on her shoulders, and so heavy was the wait, that Alakdaliel could not cease the shivers of her spine. Pulling her hood further down, she shrank into her cloak.
The trees shifted silently, moaning in the night air, their leaves shading any and all light that might have had the opportunity to find her. The evening was seemed unnatural; as if it had planned on depriving her of her much needed sleep, obscuring the peaceful image she had displayed in her mind of Mirkwood. The night was one of the darkest she had every met, yet she felt her eyes glaze, and her mind relax, the tenseness of her muscles slowly easing away. Her motions seemed not to be her own, controlled by some unknown source. The wind grew stronger, and for a moment, Alakdaliel felt as if she was going to be blow over, carried away by the strong gusts. Even the rhythmic beats of her very heart felt as if they were being forced and composed by another, squeezed and pumped with the force of a stampede. Her blood pounded in her ears, and the cool night air blazed against her hidden face. Gasping for breath that was not hers, Alakdaliel stopped her staggered steps, clasping her chest. Even to draw oxygen was difficult, and every movement was more and more painful. Whisperings gathered in her ears, quickly increasing in volume till they were heard over the thumping of her blood.
"Follow the Dogwood…" It seemed to be coming from right next to her, yet she could feel it echoing in the deep corridors of her mind. Denying the command, she attempted to step backward, tried to turn back towards the safety of her room, but a searing pain commenced through out Alakdaliel's body, her foot still unmoving. Before she could stop herself, the agony still burning dully on her uncontrolled limbs, her right leg moved, and than the left, continuing on the destined path.
The forest grew darker, and the palace increasingly small. She could feel the danger protruding towards her, so close she was to its grasp. Her body still denying her the right to turn around, Alakdaliel shut her eyes, blackening the vision of danger that surely lurked ahead of her. Even as her eyelids closed, she felt a heavy hand grasp her shoulder, and a sharp object at her back. The arm detained her, holding her back, and the withering pain was back again. Even aware of the weapon at her back, she remained trying to push forward, toward the path of which her motions suggested, attempting to rid herself of the torment that stung her. Realizing her struggle was futile, she gave up her vain skirmish, giving in to the pain, and pushing it to the back of her mind.
"Remain where you are." The voice was rigid and deep, though oddly, more comforting than the one that had been echoing in her head. She laughed mutely to herself at the irony of the situation. 'How could she do anything else but remain where she was, with a spear digging into her back, and a quite steady hand grasping her arm?'
"State your name and business. You are not under the authority of the King to be on Mirkwood grounds." Sighing with relief, Alakdaliel smiled, freely turning to face her captor. She was met with the distressed face of Legolas, though underneath his blue irises, she spotted a tinge of fear. His face too, relaxed when he realized who it was, but was soon followed by deep worry.
"Alakdaliel! What are you doing out here by yourself? And at this hour? What ails you?" His voice was concerned. At that moment, something triggered at the back of her mind, something that shouted at her with every bit of might it had, something that was not her own.
"I was simply exploring the grounds of Mirkwood." Why did she feel the need to lie? "I have never seen it at twilight." Though her voice was steady, her eyes betrayed herself. Alakdaliel's mind screamed at her, forcing her to smile.
"These are dark times, and a Lady should not be without an escort at night. Let me assist you back to your room." Legolas took her arm, and they began their way back toward the palace, though his mind seemed elsewhere.
"Alakdaliel…about the feast…." Legolas trailed. Suddenly, she realized.
"Rest at ease, Legolas. The crowd was entertained, was it not? That is all that matters. Think no more of it." She tried to reassure him. He nodded, though still seemed troubled.
"I would you know, Daren has been released from further duties. His actions were unacceptable, and his…display was unnecessary." Legolas squeezed her hand firmly. Alakdaliel felt her heart skip, though she knew it was her own bodies doing. Uncontrollable fear gripped her. The sound of Daren's name on anyone's tongue pulsed on her eardrums, sending anguished cries of help to her mind. Why did the mere thought of him frighten her so? Swallowing hard, she kept her emotions concealed, her face calm.
"Oh? Was he not angry?" She asked, waiting for the inevitable.
"Most angry indeed. I'd have to say, if I had not my bow and arrow there, I would have feared for my life."
Alright…weird chapter. I know, it will all come clear in the next few chapters. Thanks to all the reviewers! You guys are awesome! The next chapter or the one after it, will include parts from WOT by Robert Jordan. Hopefully it will provide some entertainment. Oh, and not to worry! That meanie Daren will have a LONG and agonizing death…if I get around to killing him! Next chapter soon to come!