Chapter Five
Legolas opened his eyes slowly, the blackness drawing away as he found himself still laying on the floor of the healer's house in the dead of night. His first thought was of Ëmara as he struggled to his feet and noticed that she was nowhere to be found. With a determined stumble he made his way outside and tried to pierce the blackness of the night with his eyes.
'She must already be a fair distance away.' He could hear nothing, nor could his ears detect the sounds of footsteps in haste. The moon unveiled herself from behind a drape of cloud and spilled light onto the open courtyard. Legolas suddenly caught a glimpse of a huddled form not a hundred yards in front of where he now stood. With hurried steps he made his way towards it and recognized Ëmara, passed out from pain and exhaustion.
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"Where were you this morning? I came to your room to tell you of your father's summons and you were not there." Yavanna could see slight tiredness holding onto Legolas' feet as they wound their way through the palace gardens. He sighed and relayed to her that he had been visiting a friend last night. As soon as the words left his mouth Yavanna could see that they were lies; it was like a slap across the face that she bore without changing the emotions crossing her face.
"Who?" Thought her will was strong, her voice betrayed a slight anger and fear in her voice that Legolas, too lost in his thoughts to pick up on, absentmindedly replied:
"Feânin." 'Perhaps he is not lying; his answer was so casual. I am perhaps developing a jealousy but what have I to fear? I hold his heart.' Yavanna thought, as she repainted a smile across her face and let the subject matter drop, pressing the conversation into the forgotten memories of her mind.
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The expected day of arrival for Leomë came and passed without trace or word of his whereabouts. When Thranduil had feared the worst, a hastily written letter arrived by courier stating that circumstances beyond his control had called Leomë back to Lorien. The post script of the letter recapitulated the warning given by word of mouth to Legolas stating that none should force anything on Ëmara, requesting as well that she was to be kept in Mirkwood at all costs until Leomë's return at the end of the year.
For her part, Ëmara had healed considerably faster than any elf Manle had ever seen before. The bulk of her injuries were gone in a matter of days and she was walking free of assistance within a week of her coming to Mirkwood very nearly dead. She remained silent however, conversing with none, save herself as she passed each day wandering near the river where she had been found.
Legolas watched all of this, more curious than ever to know of Ëmara's past. Something had troubled him about the letter received from Leomë; something in the writing denoted a forced hurriedness, an urgency pressed by threats. Legolas could not help but feel that Leomë's decision to return to Lorien had been forced up him by a power he could not control. Although his suspicions did at first lie with Ëmara, he struggled day by day to strengthen them as a quietness descended upon her and pulled a clever façade of femininity over her rough exterior.
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The Feast of Midsummer's Day came about with much ado and bustle about the castle in preparation for the night's activities. The whole realm was in an uproar, everyone running about in last minute adjustments to dresses and costumes. Everyone seemed to be in wonderful spirits, Legolas however, was the only elf not caught up in the festivities. His thoughts seemed to stay with Ëmara for reasons he could not explain nor understand. It had been nearly a month since their episode in the healing house and since then they had not spoken.
'That elf has enchanted my thoughts, but with what magic I can say not. Something alive crawls beneath her skin, bursting to escape the bondage of restraint and reason, something I fear to be wonderful and yet terrible in one stroke.' He turned to Feânin, who had just entered with the message that Yavanna would meet him at the top of the main stairwell. Without a further thought on the matter, Legolas walked to his friends' side and they left his chambers, talking of the festivities to come.
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At the feast, all thoughts of Ëmara were pushed to the back of Legolas' mind as he showered affection and attention on Yavanna, who appeared particularly radiant in a light lavender dress sewn to perfection to fit her slender frame. She had pinned her golden hair in tiny curls atop her head, creating a magnificent cascade down the nape of her neck that caught everyone's eye. No one could deny, that in her maiden beauty and happiness of her engagement, she was the fairest of all in attendance.
Legolas was particularly proud that all gazed upon his future wife with envy, proud that he was privileged to love the most beautiful jewel of the whole kingdom. They danced together through the night, the most marvelous couple on the floor.
It was during a slow waltz that Legolas saw her. Entering unnoticed she had caused more commotion in his mind than if she had come with flourish of trumpets.
There stood Ëmara, clad in a simple burgundy dress that tapered and tucked in every fitting way about her body. The stunning beauty of the dress complemented her sharp exterior, making the rougher places smooth and adding a mysterious luster to her creamy olive skin. Atop her head perched neither curls nor ribbons, but a plain twist of her raven hair bedecked with a tiny blood-red rosebud.
All of this Legolas took in at a breath, briefly recalling his father's mentioning that he had requested Ëmara's presence at the feast. She looked quite comely in the evening gown, but all illusions were lost as her cool stare turned towards him and seemed to chill his blood from across the room. He returned his gaze to Yavanna, who in turn was studying him very closely, a look of concern crossing her face.
"What is it My Lord? Does something trouble you…your hands seem terribly cold." Legolas, trying to quickly smooth over his uncouth lapse, picked her hand up and pressed it against his cheek, commenting that it was merely a draft as they continued to sway across the floor.