Chapter Two
"Where did she come from?" Thranduil spoke in a whisper as he stared at what appeared to be an elf of ancient descent, yet not of a very old age. Her youth still held firm the lines of her cheeks and the curve of her lips. 'Unusual, for an elf to look so ancient and yet still so youthful.' Thranduil thought silently. His eyes regarded the sleeping woman as her chest rose and fell evenly and her eyelids fluttered slightly in nameless dreams. Yavanna, a faithful maiden in the apprenticeship of the healers, stood at her side, caring for the stranger as she slowly drew a damp cloth across her sweat-beaded brow.
"I know not My Lord from where she came. She was brought to us by an elder elf of the courts…he claimed to have found her near the banks of the river. I daresay it is only by chance she was not dead when he brought her to us, another hour might have finished the poor thing." Yavanna stared intently at her patient as she began to draw her breath in quick gasps while her darting eyelids revealed a terrifying dream that was haunting her.
'Poor thing?' Thranduil thought in his mind, wondering at how helpless she really was. Wincing under the strain of a horrifying dream, she seemed to be quite defenseless, but the hard lines of her eyes and the strength of her jaw led him to believe she was not as weak as all were led to believe.
"As soon as she is able to speak I wish to know whom she is and from whence she came." He ordered Yavanna before taking leave of the healers, she in return assenting with a slight nod of her head as she returned her attention to the woman, who by now had been lulled back into calm repose.
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"My Lady Yavanna, may I speak with you in private for a moment?" She smiled tentatively as she recognized Legolas' voice behind her. There was still something of an awkwardness in her heart with regard to her fiancée. Everything had been arranged so quickly; she had had hardly enough time to recover from his exclamations of love before a proposal had come. That is not to say she did not love him, quite the contrary, she had discovered a happiness she had not thought possible as she stood in the light of Legolas' love.
"I have told you My Lord that I cannot leave until the sun appears in the lowest window. See, it is still too high in the sky. You may speak to me here, if it pleases you." Her happiness was hard to contain as she quickly glanced at the other healers, all who were wearing smiles as well at the attention Yavanna was receiving from their prince.
"Very well," he spoke with a mock exasperation as he came from behind Yavanna and sought to sit at her side when he suddenly noticed the elf under her care.
"Who is that?" Yavanna returned her eyes to the woman who by now was again in the throes of another fitful dream.
"I do not know, your father has already been to see her and has sent messengers to all the elvish realms…perhaps they shall have known of her." She once again began to wipe the sweat from the sleeping woman's brow as her head began to toss from side to side and barely audible moans escaped her lips. Legolas watched her for a moment, pausing as his eyes met her shaking eyelids. 'There is something strange about this elf.'
"Something is different about this elf," he spoke to Yavanna, pointing at the dark lines of her cheek, "see how there is no luminescence about her…she does not shine. Her cheek lines here are so harsh." Yavanna could see what he was talking about; there was no aura about this elf as there was about all others. Elves, a higher and nobler race of beings always seemed to radiate light and serenity, only the fallen did not have this shine. Legolas noted this with care, wondering more and more at the origin of the stranger.
"Has she awoken at all? Said anything at all?" He asked, not removing his eyes from the sleeping stranger as she lapsed once again into dreamless sleep. Yavanna wrung the soft material rag into a small bowl and laid the swath across her patient's brow.
"She has not awoken under my watch…but she has been speaking. Sometimes it is in languages I cannot comprehend…sometimes I think it is…" her voice dropped so low that Legolas had to lean forward to catch her frightened gasp, "the dark language. When I can understand her she speaks of a single person…Dîniath. He seems to be her soul mindset."
"Dîniath? Are you sure?" Yavanna nodded her head vigorously, absolutely certain after listening to the delirium of her patient for nearly two days. She studied Legolas carefully, noticing that he seemed to recognize the name.
"Do you know him?" Legolas stared ahead as if lost in a slew of thoughts and furrowed his brow as he searched through the din for the answer to her question. Suddenly, he remembered, though the answer brought more confusion than the quest for the solution.
"Yes…I remember a general during the War held that name. I believe he was from Lorien…but…this elf could not have come from that fair realm, she is far too dark complexioned." Legolas again stared intently at the woman when suddenly his eye fell upon a long midnight-blue cloak that lay folded at the foot of her bed. His mind quickly recalled the stranger in the wood and felt his heart quicken as he noticed that the woman had a bulge under the sheets on her right leg that could only be a bandage.
"Where did you say she was found?" The sudden intensity of his voice almost frightened Yavanna as she quickly stuttered trying to remember the words of the man who had brought the stranger.
"Near…near the river, right next to the edge of the forest. Why? What is it Legolas?" For his part, Legolas had lapsed into one of his silences that had become a trademark of the often pensive prince. He picked up the blue cloak and felt the lightweight material flow through his fingers, marveling at the finery of the cloak and wondering that she could have come from the Lorien forest with such a piece of fine woven cloth.
"May I borrow this?" He held the cloak up to Yavanna, who, seeing no reason to refuse, acquiesced and watched as Legolas took his leave, a look of confusion and wonder still painted across his face as he left the house of the healers. Yavanna returned her gaze to the stranger and gave a start as she found herself staring into a pair of unflinching gray eyes.