Chapter 9 - Winter of Discontent
"....and then the princess turned to the King and demanded that all the peoples of Middle earth should be released and freed. And because the King was so mesmerized by her courage and her valour..." Vella paused, and then added as an afterthought. "..and her beauty, that he said she could have whatever she wanted and so the people were free once more. To laugh and to live as they pleased, but they all wanted to be under the rule of so just a Princess, so they placed the Princess upon the throne and the King married her, so she became Queen. And then the Princess' evil sister had to come crawling back and beg her sister for forgiveness lest she cast out." Vella laughed softly. "But the Queen was just and kind and she allowed her evil sister to stay, though she was forced to dig a well every single day, in rain or cold, for the good of the kingdom as a punishment for all the evil she had done." At this point, Legolas was laughing so hard, he could hardly contain himself. Vella stopped, glaring archly at him. "Evil sister?" He asked, sitting up slowly. Vella lay back against the window, staring into the white bleakness outside. "Very evil indeed. The worst." "Vell..." "Excuse me, good Prince, but it is my story!" She exclaimed indignantly. "I know but-" "But what?" Her eyes flashed. Legolas met her gaze squarely. "That's not fair, Vell. She's not here to defend herself." "I don't know what you're talking about." She replied stiffly. She leaned back, lodged comfortably in the window seat. It was the sort of Firith day in which the snows pummelled the Palace and a heavy stillness blanketed the entire atmosphere, making it desperately hard to get up and move. Legolas had found his way into Vellesta's company, as he'd found himself in very often lately, and had been taken on a wild journey in which a Princess freed a kingdom and slew orcs by the dozen. Ever since his return, he'd been suffering between terrible guilt and terrible joy. Which he preferred, he did not know. To be in Vella's company was a terribly joy indeed, a joy he didn't deserve. To not be in her company forced him to reflect on those dark days in the Southern borders of Mirkwood where things had gone terribly wrong. And yet, day after day, he found himself searching for the one who would tell him fantastic stories to take him away from this world. "Maybe you should forgive her." He said softly, glancing meaningfully at her. "She's your little sister, Vella." "She's no one to me." Vella replied coldly, something in her eyes coming up dead and hard. "Anyways, what are you now, her advocate?" "No, I'm just saying..." "Well no one asked you to say anything!" She snapped, turning away. A frosty cool settled between the two, making the Prince realize once more how much he depended on her these days. Legolas sighed, turning inward to his thoughts. Since their return, he'd been doing that a lot, thinking reflectively that is. Aragorn, the Ranger of Gondor, had long departed back towards Rivendell and his own lands. The elf didn't blame him for not wanting to stay in the mopey, droopy Palace during these long months of Firith. A part of him itched for adventure once more; another part dreaded leaving this very room. He turned to Vella, who was staring out the window with a listless bored expression. "What did she do, Vella?" He asked softly. She shot him a nasty glance, a culmination of her boredom and her annoyance that the Prince still hadn't told her anything of his Journeys. She would've thought he'd broken down by now but still, he made no mention of speaking of those days spent in Southern Mirkwood. It was as if he'd forgotten them altogether but for those moments when she glanced at him and saw the wild, brilliant darkness in his eyes. "Humph." "C'mon Vell, don't be like this!" The Prince knew that Vella waited for him to speak of his Journeys, to tell her all as he always had. And a part of him wanted to tell her everything; a part of him longed to pour out his tears into her open arms. But how could he tell her of his guilt and then face her each day? To tell her would be to lose her and he could not bear that, not right now, not during these darks months, not ever. His secrecy had caused a small rift to grow between them, a rift he usually ignored. A rift that was growing bigger each day and becoming more and more of an annoyance. "Well then," She turned away, that bland expression that she wore whenever she was hurt across her fair brow. "We all have secrets then, don't we?" For a moment, the valiant Prince felt like wringing her neck in frustration. Why didn't she understand? She'd always understood, why not now?! "Perhaps we do." He replied, his own anger too hot to cool in her presence. He stiffly got up and left the room with a slam of the door. Vella dared not turn for fear she would run after him like some silly ol' lady begging her lover to return. Who cares, she thought, he's just a silly boy. Her heart hurt, hurt from the lashed dealt by Legolas and the even crueller lashes dealt by herself. Is it me? She wondered, over and over. Outside, not two paces away from the door, Legolas took deep breathes. He gripped his fists tightly and resisted the urge to fling the door open and make her laugh out loud, deep and clear. With a final glance, he turned and disappeared.
Avaranthe skulked around the Palace, a furtive glance down each hallway, then the rushing of skirts towards another dark passageway. Who was she hiding from? Ava stopped for a moment, seeing a reflection of herself in one of the fountains that adorned the center of a courtyard. With a splash of water, she turned away and made her way quickly towards her own chambers. The times she had to venture out form her own rooms were torture. Not only did she risk running into Lady Amethys or one of her crowd, but she also risked seeing Prince Legolas. Both, she avoided like a disease. Keeping her head low, she briskly made her way across the Great Hall towards the staircase onto the other side. Please don't notice me, please don't notice me, she whispered over and over. It seemed to be working because none of the ladies gathered around in groups even glanced up at the passage of the shy little elf maid with the glistening pale hair. She let out a sigh of relief as she approached the alcove that led to the staircase, knowing that for another day, she was free. Since their nasty little parting in the midst of Festival, Amethys hadn't forgotten the embarrassment she had suffered at the hands of Vellesta Rivermoon. She couldn't do anything to the older sister however, she didn't dare for fear that what Vella would do in return, would be nastier than anything she could think up. So, Amethys sunk lower, to the one she'd once accepted into her own group. Now, whenever Avaranthe walked by, Amethys was sure to glare wickedly at the young elf, promising dark deeds to come. Ava shuddered, trying to forget the hidden promises in Amethys' deep violet eyes. She didn't even want to dwell on what they meant. As she made her way up the stairs, slightly more relaxed, a sudden hand on her elbow made her freeze. "Avaranthe Rivermoon, I think you owe me a dance." It was a voice that chilled her to the bone. Turning slowly, she gazed into the sparkling grey eyes of Lord Breton. "Br-Breton!" She exclaimed, wearing a false spirited smile. "I'm sure I do except I'm on my way-" "Now." He interrupted good-naturedly. Then, with a firm hand on her arm, half dragged half-walked her back into a side room where Amethys awaited the baleful elf with a shimmering smile of pure contempt. "Well well well..little Avaranthe Rivermoon." Amethys smiled, too kindly and nodded at Breton who released the young elf with only a slight push. "What, no greetings in return?" Ava stared at the floor, doing what she did best: pretending she was a million miles away in a world of her own making. She was snapped back to reality when a cold hand gripped her chin and forced her head up. "You will look at me when I speak to you!" She spat, her eyes glittering daggers and heat. "Now, I think you owe me a little something, hmm?" "I don't-" Ava started, then stopped, her own voice dying in the heat of her protest. She owed nothing! How was this fair, to be blamed for her wretched sister's actions? Ava bit her lip and stared at the far window, willing herself to go deaf. "You, Avaranthe, are in for a little adventure!" Amethys laughed, releasing the younger one's face, and turning to her cohorts. "Don't you think, Lady Ilaya?" To Ava's horror, Ilaya Louvres, her own 'friend' now smiled maliciously back at her. Ava cast a pleading look towards her old friend, before being forced to return to Amethys' attention. "You're sister humiliated me, in front of-of everybody! That horrible elf did what a child would do! She was immature and crude, a horrible-" Amethys was a deep scarlet, her porcelain features contorted in rage. For a moment, she seemed ready to burst. Then, a cool placid calm smoothed her face and she became the cool collected beautiful lady Amethys once more. "Avaranthe, how do you like snow?" Ava gulped. Be brave, she admonished, Legolas is brave. He faces much more than Amethys and returns to speak of it. I shall be brave like my prince, she thought. But then, another look into Amethys' dark eyes made her spirit quake. Ava had never been the courageous one; she had always left the stunts and bravado up to Vella. But now, now, she had to be brave. She couldn't let this horrible lady win! Ava suddenly realized how stupid she'd been, to care so much about being accepted by the likes of Amethys and Breton, to care so much as to lose a sister for these phonies. A deep sense of regret washed over her, regret and sadness that she'd been so stupid, so shallow. "Do to me what you wish." She said, courage surging through her. Vella would be proud, she realized. Amethys laughed. "A sense of bravery in the shadow of the hell-bringer? I'm surprised." She turned to Breton and Ilaya. "Come on." They forced the elf maid outside, into the blistering winds and blowing snow, then threw her into a snowdrift, dressed in only Palace satin and silk. Floundering, a part of Ava retreated even deeper into herself; that part saved for occasions such as this, when the world seemed to spin around and around and fall before her. Glancing up, she saw only the glittering violet daggers that made for eyes, then was picked up roughly by Breton. On her feet once more, Ava shivered in the cold winter air. Snow covered her from head to toe, just starting to melt and wet her to the bone. The melted snow froze as soon as it melted and attached itself to her skin, making her turn an unearthly shade of pale blue. As she stood there shivering, Ava warily watched as Amethys circled around her; a hawk eyeing its prey before the final kill. "How does that feel, Avaranthe?" Her voice was soft. I used to adore this lady, Ava thought, I used to hate a sister for her. Inside, all she could feel was empty. Perhaps, she deserved this after all. After all she'd done and said, all the horrible things she'd done to Vella. Perhaps this was her punishment. "What do think, Avaranthe. Do you feel like crying? Or crying for your sister perhaps, do you think she can do something?" Amethys laughed, sharply, cruelly, then stopped. The silence killed. Ava's lips began to turn purple. It was the coldest Firith ever felt. "She can do nothing." The words echoed through the forest, to the Palace that stood snow-covered and unawares. Ava stared upwards into the grey sky. It had begun snowing again, the soft flakes landing on her pale brow and alighting her with fire. She was the ice maiden, bringer of sorrow and pain, frozen to the core. She was so cold, the shivers had stopped. Her body no longer attempted at warmth. The spectators shivered in their thick cloaks, pity marring their porcelain, elven features, yet each was unwilling to face the wrath of Amethys and stood back, cheering on the little elf on in their hearts, in their souls. Ilaya stared at the snow, willing herself not to look up lest she run to the side of her friend. The spite she'd felt so strongly in the Palace had diminished to be a cold, hard flame that burned too low. Amethys regarded the elf maid, a small smile of pleasure marring her features. From the looks of it, Ava seemed ready to collapse at any moments, to cave in for any sort of warmth, any sort of hope. Hope, Amethys had learned many centuries ago, was a powerful weapon. "Let's say I gave you my cloak, Avaranthe, would you be warm then?" Ava stared at the pale falling snow, deep inside of herself, reciting elven poetry over and over until she could hear nothing of the real world. Amethys grabbed her chin and the contact between hot and cold sent the elf maid reeling back into reality. "What if I arranged your marriage to Lord Breton here? What if you were to be on of my ladies, one of the elite." Amethys laughed. "You cannot fool me, child. I could see the pleasure you took of dancing all night, laughing with the best of society, partaking in the moonlit cruises. To live, Avaranthe, I give you that chance." Ava refused to meet the violet gaze. Amethys released her hold on Ava's head with a quick push, then paced back and forth in the deep, cool snow. "You have, after all, near nothing in terms of status. Your father is Lord Delanthor, sure, but that," Amethys turned to Ava and met her wide- eyed gaze, "can only help you so far." She continued to pace, back and forth, back and forth. "That devil of a sister that you have more or less ruined all chanced of respectability for your family, what with her reputation and that horrible scene she made during Festival. Who would court you, Avaranthe? Who would dare enter the vicinity of a Rivermoon?" Ava was so cold she could not it any longer. She did not realize she'd been clenching her fists until she looked down and saw deep dark drops of blood marring the snow; gashes in her palms bespoke of her strength. "I could change that, child. I could make you the most sought after lady in all of Mirkwood, in all of Middle Earth." Amethys placed one arm gently around the elf maid's slender shoulders and pretended to be warming her. "I could take you far; I could make you beautiful. I could give you life, Avaranthe, give you your choice of suitors, your choice of friends." Her violet eyes glittered, starkly bright against the pallor of the pale pale snow. "I could do it all, Avaranthe, so easily. I could give you the world." Without feeling anything, Ava began to shake. When she tried to speak, nothing came out. Her mind was numb, frozen with cold. "Ahh, I know what you think." Amethys began to pace again, her warm down cloak trailing in the snow. Ava watched the patterns it made in the soft drifts and counted the number of snowflakes that fell between the trees. "You think I want much from you, too much perhaps. That is where you're wrong, Avaranthe." Amethys smiled. "I want only one thing." "Wh-wh-what-t..." She stuttered out, seeing only warmth as a destination. It was funny how, out here, things became separated into only the most important and the unimportant. Amethys smile, knowing she had the young girl. "Vellesta." Her voice rang loud over the forest, over the dead still air. Ava cringed. "Give me Vellesta, Avaranthe, and I shall give you the world. A small price to pay, don't you think? I am not one to be greedy, I want only what is due to me." "I-I d-do not u-understand." "No?" Amethys walked towards the frozen elf and drew close. "It is simply really. You help me and I shall help you. Not hard, quite efficient actually. I only want justice, Avaranthe." Ava closed her eyes. She understood. She'd understood before she'd bee dragged out here into the snow. "What do you say, Avaranthe?" Amethys' voice echoed right in her head and for a brief, panicked moment, Ava wondered if the lady had found a way of playing with her mind as well. She remained completely frozen. The onlookers were beginning to tire of the charade, tire of the senseless bantering between the elves and the blue pallor the frozen one that was beginning to be an eyesore. "Let's go in!" They began to murmur as one. Amethys shot them a nasty glance, silencing them if only for a few moments. She leaned closer to Ava, feeling the cold emanating from the elf maid in radiating waves. It was as if she was Lady Firith herself, so still and frozen was she. "Just remember, Avaranthe, that I have other means of breaking that accursed sister of yours. Do not think that she is free due to your stubbornness. If you speak a word of this to anyone, you only make it worse for yourself." Amethys straightened, directing her voice to her followers. "Consider it, child." Then, with a sweep, she made for the Palace where its inhabitants rested completely unawares to the plight of the frozen elf. One by one, each of the onlookers shuffled behind their master, casting baleful glances at the poor frozen elf maid, then looking away. Ilaya was the last to leave, trying not to cry tears of salty warmth. "Ilaya." Breton motioned, calling from between the trees where most of the others had already gone. "One moment..." Ilaya glanced at Ava, who stood so still she might've been death itself if not for the slow clenching and unclenching of her bloodied hands. Quickly, before she could change her mind, she slipped off her cloak and let it fall to the ground behind her. Then, with a skip and a quick shuffle of her skirts, she raced towards the Palace and Breton. "...I lost my cloak that is all." She admitted with a flirtatious smile before ducking into the warmth. After they were gone, Ava felt herself cracking, inside and out. With a sob, she collapsed into the snow bank, her frozen fingers barely able to pull Ilaya's warm cloak around her shoulders. The tears she tasted her were hot, burning a trail on her pale cheeks. She could not move, could not make her body respond to her cries. She lay in the snow, the soft flakes caressing her cheek, and prayed for death to be swift. ~ When they came and told her that her little sister could not be woken, Vellesta Rivermoon did something she had never done before: she begged. When she arrived in the dark little room that served for a hospital, Vella immediately fell to her knees next to the frozen form of her sister and begged the slight bespectacled elf that held her heart in thrall to return to her a life to live, to give her a second chance. When the physician could only shake his head and shrug his shoulders, Vella flew into a rage and threatened to do nasty unmentionable things that included his stethoscope and his glasses. It was finally Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood himself who'd been first on the scene, who had to step in and pull the enraged and panicked Vella off the poor Physician who could get no work done for fear of the hell-bringer. They sat in a corner, Legolas and Vella, while the physician busied himself with the small elf who slept a slumber of ice upon the cool bed. Every once in a while, Vella would stiffen up and begin afresh a new wave of fury and frustration only to be calmed by the cool Prince beside her, who was careful to keep a tight grip on the fiery elf maid. The day grew dark and still, Ava did not awake. Surrounded by warm plates and layers of blankets, the pallor never left her cheeks, the rosy flush did not return. Vella seethed and worried while Legolas thought of other things lest he too, lose his mind. "You found her?" Vella finally asked, her voice raw with worry. She turned to Legolas beside her and laid her head on his shoulder. She felt tired and limp, her energy spent. Legolas nodded, his eyes never leaving that all-too-still form of the sleeping Ava. "In the forest, not two paces from the palace. She was practically buried in the snow and she appeared to be sleeping." Legolas bit his lip to keep from saying what he thought, that it had looked like Ava had gone out there for a purpose, that she had intentionally fallen asleep in the snow to take her own life though to an elf, such a thought was ludicrous. "I tried to wake her but when she would not rise, I knew something was wrong indeed." Vella could feel his thoughts and where they went, for she too, feared the same thing. She looked at him, gazing into his tired blue yes and thought again about how he hid the darkness from her. "You fear she hopes to leave, to face death rather than live this life. TO get as far away from me as possible. TO go as far as death." There was no mistaking the bitter daggers that Vella drove into herself. Legolas squeezed the hand he held tighter and thought of all the times Vell had been there for him, there to hold him up when he fell. He would be here, here against the wind and cold, against the knives that she drove against herself. He would be her shield and her sword. The great doors to the room suddenly burst open and Lord Delanthor rushed in, his regal bearing weighed down with distress and worry. He had been interrupted from his meeting with the councils to the news that one of his daughters could not be woken. Expecting the worst, Delanthor barraged into the room demanding answers. "Father!" Vella jumped up and ran to him. She threw her arms around him as she once had, the young elf maid with her mother's shimmering eyes, and marvelled at the sobs that threatened to come out of her heart. She had not cried in front of other beings for centuries; her tears she kept private, as close as her soul as her pain. "Father!" And yet, the tears threatened so overwhelmingly that Vella could not hold back. A single tear fell onto her Father's awaiting hands, burning its course deep into Lord Delanthor's heart. "Oh Vella, what has happened? What is wrong!?" He spied the still form of Ava and his heart stopped. "Oh Vell, is she...is she.." His own pain threatened to consume. Vella backed off, her initial impulse for comfort abetted and replaced with cool, collected calm. "She's frozen, Father." Delanthor turned to Legolas who managed to fill in the gaps. After all had been explained, the great lord, advisor to the King of Mirkwood, took a seat next to his sleeping daughter and pictured over and over, the things he would do and say if she were ever returned to him. The little company was silent, watching and waiting and seething and dying. Every hourly rise of the broken moon, the physician would return, casting wary glances at Vella, to check on the state of the sleeping maiden only to shake his head and return to other duties. "You should sleep." Vella turned to Legolas, "You could get sick, you're already exhausted. I shall call you if she awakes." "I could say the same thing to you." The Prince stretched, feeling each of his limbs turning in their joints. "And yet, we shall both stay here until the dawn breaks, shall we not?" Vella pressed her lips together in a grimace of a smile. Delanthor gazed at the whisperings of the two elves in the corner but made no move to partake. The night wore on. Dawn rose finding the Prince and Vella asleep against each other, and Delanthor very nearly so himself. It was as the grey filtering of a Firith sun sprinkled the sky that Ava Rivermoon first opened her eyes after her ordeal. For a moment, she thought herself in the realm of the Dead, that forbidden place where few elves ever set foot. Am I dead? She wondered, gazing up at the dark grey ceiling and the pale waning light from the corner. Then, she glanced to the side and saw her father, his head bowed in exhaustion. "Daddy?" Her voice sounded odd to her own ears, distant and tired. She tried to lift her hand but could not seem to move. "Father!" Her cry woke Delanthor immediately. "Ava!" He woke from the drowse with a start. "Ava!" She blinked up at him, as if seeing him for the very first time. "Father.." "Oh Avie.." He grabbed her hands and felt tears rushing to his eyes, not realizing how much he'd been hoping for this exact moment. He held her hands close to his heart, to feel their warmth and life. "My daughter.." He whispered and pulled her close. Ava felt her body enveloped in warmth and for the first time since she'd given up on life out in the snowy drifts of Mirkwood Forest, she felt warm again. "Father...I missed you." Delanthor, a season warrior, struggled to hold back tears. He realized he'd never been so scared in his entire life than the night he'd just faced; orcs were nothing in the face of Death. Father and daughter embraced, each wrapped up in the mystery of love, when suddenly a gigantic sneeze shook both back to reality. Ava gasped, realizing her nose was entire made of plastic. She sneezed again. Delanthor smiled, one arm protectively around her. "Perhaps you caught a cold." Ava didn't miss the irony in the statement. Her sneezes, however, had awoken the two slumbering elves in the corner. With a cry, Vella tore herself from slumber with a wild axe. "What-what happened! What-what!?" She glanced around wildly, while Legolas struggled to figure out what had happened. Suddenly, both realized the elf maid that sat up from the long sleep and blinked at them with enormously blue eyes. Vella froze, her eyes on the younger elf. It took Legolas several pokes of the finger to get her attention. "Go to her, Vella." He whispered, prodding her forward gently. Ava did not miss their closeness and it wrung her heart; she turned away. Mistaking the flash of pain that had crossed her sister's face to be hate, Vella stopped herself. "She cannot bear to see me." "Don't be silly, Vell, of course she wants to see you." Ava stared at her pale hands, feeling the chill hand of guilt over her heart. In her mind, she was able to throw herself into her sister's arms and apologize over and over for her faults and her follies, for her mistakes and her cruelty. She'd never realized the depth of Amethys' evil until she'd been the brunt of them, she'd never realized how wrong she'd been. I'm sorry, she thought, over and over, but could not seem to make herself move. Vella studied Ava's expression and mistook it for irritation and anger. Ava felt Vella's hesitation and mistook it for contempt. Both sisters stood across a gulf too wide to be crossed in a single moment. And though each shed tears for the other, they could not make that step forward into the abyss. "She died to get away from me." She said dully, turning away and leaving the stifling room as quickly as she could. Legolas went after her, catching her hand before she could leave the Palace. "What are you doing, Vella!?" He demanded, angry. "Your sister is returned to you, alive and well, and you cannot even give her a decent welcome!" She tore herself away from the Prince, stung. "She does not want to see me." To her consternation, her words came out sounding altogether too close to tears. "I-I could not bear her hate." When she turned and ran, the Prince did not try to follow for he did not understand the ways of sisterhood.
"....and then the princess turned to the King and demanded that all the peoples of Middle earth should be released and freed. And because the King was so mesmerized by her courage and her valour..." Vella paused, and then added as an afterthought. "..and her beauty, that he said she could have whatever she wanted and so the people were free once more. To laugh and to live as they pleased, but they all wanted to be under the rule of so just a Princess, so they placed the Princess upon the throne and the King married her, so she became Queen. And then the Princess' evil sister had to come crawling back and beg her sister for forgiveness lest she cast out." Vella laughed softly. "But the Queen was just and kind and she allowed her evil sister to stay, though she was forced to dig a well every single day, in rain or cold, for the good of the kingdom as a punishment for all the evil she had done." At this point, Legolas was laughing so hard, he could hardly contain himself. Vella stopped, glaring archly at him. "Evil sister?" He asked, sitting up slowly. Vella lay back against the window, staring into the white bleakness outside. "Very evil indeed. The worst." "Vell..." "Excuse me, good Prince, but it is my story!" She exclaimed indignantly. "I know but-" "But what?" Her eyes flashed. Legolas met her gaze squarely. "That's not fair, Vell. She's not here to defend herself." "I don't know what you're talking about." She replied stiffly. She leaned back, lodged comfortably in the window seat. It was the sort of Firith day in which the snows pummelled the Palace and a heavy stillness blanketed the entire atmosphere, making it desperately hard to get up and move. Legolas had found his way into Vellesta's company, as he'd found himself in very often lately, and had been taken on a wild journey in which a Princess freed a kingdom and slew orcs by the dozen. Ever since his return, he'd been suffering between terrible guilt and terrible joy. Which he preferred, he did not know. To be in Vella's company was a terribly joy indeed, a joy he didn't deserve. To not be in her company forced him to reflect on those dark days in the Southern borders of Mirkwood where things had gone terribly wrong. And yet, day after day, he found himself searching for the one who would tell him fantastic stories to take him away from this world. "Maybe you should forgive her." He said softly, glancing meaningfully at her. "She's your little sister, Vella." "She's no one to me." Vella replied coldly, something in her eyes coming up dead and hard. "Anyways, what are you now, her advocate?" "No, I'm just saying..." "Well no one asked you to say anything!" She snapped, turning away. A frosty cool settled between the two, making the Prince realize once more how much he depended on her these days. Legolas sighed, turning inward to his thoughts. Since their return, he'd been doing that a lot, thinking reflectively that is. Aragorn, the Ranger of Gondor, had long departed back towards Rivendell and his own lands. The elf didn't blame him for not wanting to stay in the mopey, droopy Palace during these long months of Firith. A part of him itched for adventure once more; another part dreaded leaving this very room. He turned to Vella, who was staring out the window with a listless bored expression. "What did she do, Vella?" He asked softly. She shot him a nasty glance, a culmination of her boredom and her annoyance that the Prince still hadn't told her anything of his Journeys. She would've thought he'd broken down by now but still, he made no mention of speaking of those days spent in Southern Mirkwood. It was as if he'd forgotten them altogether but for those moments when she glanced at him and saw the wild, brilliant darkness in his eyes. "Humph." "C'mon Vell, don't be like this!" The Prince knew that Vella waited for him to speak of his Journeys, to tell her all as he always had. And a part of him wanted to tell her everything; a part of him longed to pour out his tears into her open arms. But how could he tell her of his guilt and then face her each day? To tell her would be to lose her and he could not bear that, not right now, not during these darks months, not ever. His secrecy had caused a small rift to grow between them, a rift he usually ignored. A rift that was growing bigger each day and becoming more and more of an annoyance. "Well then," She turned away, that bland expression that she wore whenever she was hurt across her fair brow. "We all have secrets then, don't we?" For a moment, the valiant Prince felt like wringing her neck in frustration. Why didn't she understand? She'd always understood, why not now?! "Perhaps we do." He replied, his own anger too hot to cool in her presence. He stiffly got up and left the room with a slam of the door. Vella dared not turn for fear she would run after him like some silly ol' lady begging her lover to return. Who cares, she thought, he's just a silly boy. Her heart hurt, hurt from the lashed dealt by Legolas and the even crueller lashes dealt by herself. Is it me? She wondered, over and over. Outside, not two paces away from the door, Legolas took deep breathes. He gripped his fists tightly and resisted the urge to fling the door open and make her laugh out loud, deep and clear. With a final glance, he turned and disappeared.
Avaranthe skulked around the Palace, a furtive glance down each hallway, then the rushing of skirts towards another dark passageway. Who was she hiding from? Ava stopped for a moment, seeing a reflection of herself in one of the fountains that adorned the center of a courtyard. With a splash of water, she turned away and made her way quickly towards her own chambers. The times she had to venture out form her own rooms were torture. Not only did she risk running into Lady Amethys or one of her crowd, but she also risked seeing Prince Legolas. Both, she avoided like a disease. Keeping her head low, she briskly made her way across the Great Hall towards the staircase onto the other side. Please don't notice me, please don't notice me, she whispered over and over. It seemed to be working because none of the ladies gathered around in groups even glanced up at the passage of the shy little elf maid with the glistening pale hair. She let out a sigh of relief as she approached the alcove that led to the staircase, knowing that for another day, she was free. Since their nasty little parting in the midst of Festival, Amethys hadn't forgotten the embarrassment she had suffered at the hands of Vellesta Rivermoon. She couldn't do anything to the older sister however, she didn't dare for fear that what Vella would do in return, would be nastier than anything she could think up. So, Amethys sunk lower, to the one she'd once accepted into her own group. Now, whenever Avaranthe walked by, Amethys was sure to glare wickedly at the young elf, promising dark deeds to come. Ava shuddered, trying to forget the hidden promises in Amethys' deep violet eyes. She didn't even want to dwell on what they meant. As she made her way up the stairs, slightly more relaxed, a sudden hand on her elbow made her freeze. "Avaranthe Rivermoon, I think you owe me a dance." It was a voice that chilled her to the bone. Turning slowly, she gazed into the sparkling grey eyes of Lord Breton. "Br-Breton!" She exclaimed, wearing a false spirited smile. "I'm sure I do except I'm on my way-" "Now." He interrupted good-naturedly. Then, with a firm hand on her arm, half dragged half-walked her back into a side room where Amethys awaited the baleful elf with a shimmering smile of pure contempt. "Well well well..little Avaranthe Rivermoon." Amethys smiled, too kindly and nodded at Breton who released the young elf with only a slight push. "What, no greetings in return?" Ava stared at the floor, doing what she did best: pretending she was a million miles away in a world of her own making. She was snapped back to reality when a cold hand gripped her chin and forced her head up. "You will look at me when I speak to you!" She spat, her eyes glittering daggers and heat. "Now, I think you owe me a little something, hmm?" "I don't-" Ava started, then stopped, her own voice dying in the heat of her protest. She owed nothing! How was this fair, to be blamed for her wretched sister's actions? Ava bit her lip and stared at the far window, willing herself to go deaf. "You, Avaranthe, are in for a little adventure!" Amethys laughed, releasing the younger one's face, and turning to her cohorts. "Don't you think, Lady Ilaya?" To Ava's horror, Ilaya Louvres, her own 'friend' now smiled maliciously back at her. Ava cast a pleading look towards her old friend, before being forced to return to Amethys' attention. "You're sister humiliated me, in front of-of everybody! That horrible elf did what a child would do! She was immature and crude, a horrible-" Amethys was a deep scarlet, her porcelain features contorted in rage. For a moment, she seemed ready to burst. Then, a cool placid calm smoothed her face and she became the cool collected beautiful lady Amethys once more. "Avaranthe, how do you like snow?" Ava gulped. Be brave, she admonished, Legolas is brave. He faces much more than Amethys and returns to speak of it. I shall be brave like my prince, she thought. But then, another look into Amethys' dark eyes made her spirit quake. Ava had never been the courageous one; she had always left the stunts and bravado up to Vella. But now, now, she had to be brave. She couldn't let this horrible lady win! Ava suddenly realized how stupid she'd been, to care so much about being accepted by the likes of Amethys and Breton, to care so much as to lose a sister for these phonies. A deep sense of regret washed over her, regret and sadness that she'd been so stupid, so shallow. "Do to me what you wish." She said, courage surging through her. Vella would be proud, she realized. Amethys laughed. "A sense of bravery in the shadow of the hell-bringer? I'm surprised." She turned to Breton and Ilaya. "Come on." They forced the elf maid outside, into the blistering winds and blowing snow, then threw her into a snowdrift, dressed in only Palace satin and silk. Floundering, a part of Ava retreated even deeper into herself; that part saved for occasions such as this, when the world seemed to spin around and around and fall before her. Glancing up, she saw only the glittering violet daggers that made for eyes, then was picked up roughly by Breton. On her feet once more, Ava shivered in the cold winter air. Snow covered her from head to toe, just starting to melt and wet her to the bone. The melted snow froze as soon as it melted and attached itself to her skin, making her turn an unearthly shade of pale blue. As she stood there shivering, Ava warily watched as Amethys circled around her; a hawk eyeing its prey before the final kill. "How does that feel, Avaranthe?" Her voice was soft. I used to adore this lady, Ava thought, I used to hate a sister for her. Inside, all she could feel was empty. Perhaps, she deserved this after all. After all she'd done and said, all the horrible things she'd done to Vella. Perhaps this was her punishment. "What do think, Avaranthe. Do you feel like crying? Or crying for your sister perhaps, do you think she can do something?" Amethys laughed, sharply, cruelly, then stopped. The silence killed. Ava's lips began to turn purple. It was the coldest Firith ever felt. "She can do nothing." The words echoed through the forest, to the Palace that stood snow-covered and unawares. Ava stared upwards into the grey sky. It had begun snowing again, the soft flakes landing on her pale brow and alighting her with fire. She was the ice maiden, bringer of sorrow and pain, frozen to the core. She was so cold, the shivers had stopped. Her body no longer attempted at warmth. The spectators shivered in their thick cloaks, pity marring their porcelain, elven features, yet each was unwilling to face the wrath of Amethys and stood back, cheering on the little elf on in their hearts, in their souls. Ilaya stared at the snow, willing herself not to look up lest she run to the side of her friend. The spite she'd felt so strongly in the Palace had diminished to be a cold, hard flame that burned too low. Amethys regarded the elf maid, a small smile of pleasure marring her features. From the looks of it, Ava seemed ready to collapse at any moments, to cave in for any sort of warmth, any sort of hope. Hope, Amethys had learned many centuries ago, was a powerful weapon. "Let's say I gave you my cloak, Avaranthe, would you be warm then?" Ava stared at the pale falling snow, deep inside of herself, reciting elven poetry over and over until she could hear nothing of the real world. Amethys grabbed her chin and the contact between hot and cold sent the elf maid reeling back into reality. "What if I arranged your marriage to Lord Breton here? What if you were to be on of my ladies, one of the elite." Amethys laughed. "You cannot fool me, child. I could see the pleasure you took of dancing all night, laughing with the best of society, partaking in the moonlit cruises. To live, Avaranthe, I give you that chance." Ava refused to meet the violet gaze. Amethys released her hold on Ava's head with a quick push, then paced back and forth in the deep, cool snow. "You have, after all, near nothing in terms of status. Your father is Lord Delanthor, sure, but that," Amethys turned to Ava and met her wide- eyed gaze, "can only help you so far." She continued to pace, back and forth, back and forth. "That devil of a sister that you have more or less ruined all chanced of respectability for your family, what with her reputation and that horrible scene she made during Festival. Who would court you, Avaranthe? Who would dare enter the vicinity of a Rivermoon?" Ava was so cold she could not it any longer. She did not realize she'd been clenching her fists until she looked down and saw deep dark drops of blood marring the snow; gashes in her palms bespoke of her strength. "I could change that, child. I could make you the most sought after lady in all of Mirkwood, in all of Middle Earth." Amethys placed one arm gently around the elf maid's slender shoulders and pretended to be warming her. "I could take you far; I could make you beautiful. I could give you life, Avaranthe, give you your choice of suitors, your choice of friends." Her violet eyes glittered, starkly bright against the pallor of the pale pale snow. "I could do it all, Avaranthe, so easily. I could give you the world." Without feeling anything, Ava began to shake. When she tried to speak, nothing came out. Her mind was numb, frozen with cold. "Ahh, I know what you think." Amethys began to pace again, her warm down cloak trailing in the snow. Ava watched the patterns it made in the soft drifts and counted the number of snowflakes that fell between the trees. "You think I want much from you, too much perhaps. That is where you're wrong, Avaranthe." Amethys smiled. "I want only one thing." "Wh-wh-what-t..." She stuttered out, seeing only warmth as a destination. It was funny how, out here, things became separated into only the most important and the unimportant. Amethys smile, knowing she had the young girl. "Vellesta." Her voice rang loud over the forest, over the dead still air. Ava cringed. "Give me Vellesta, Avaranthe, and I shall give you the world. A small price to pay, don't you think? I am not one to be greedy, I want only what is due to me." "I-I d-do not u-understand." "No?" Amethys walked towards the frozen elf and drew close. "It is simply really. You help me and I shall help you. Not hard, quite efficient actually. I only want justice, Avaranthe." Ava closed her eyes. She understood. She'd understood before she'd bee dragged out here into the snow. "What do you say, Avaranthe?" Amethys' voice echoed right in her head and for a brief, panicked moment, Ava wondered if the lady had found a way of playing with her mind as well. She remained completely frozen. The onlookers were beginning to tire of the charade, tire of the senseless bantering between the elves and the blue pallor the frozen one that was beginning to be an eyesore. "Let's go in!" They began to murmur as one. Amethys shot them a nasty glance, silencing them if only for a few moments. She leaned closer to Ava, feeling the cold emanating from the elf maid in radiating waves. It was as if she was Lady Firith herself, so still and frozen was she. "Just remember, Avaranthe, that I have other means of breaking that accursed sister of yours. Do not think that she is free due to your stubbornness. If you speak a word of this to anyone, you only make it worse for yourself." Amethys straightened, directing her voice to her followers. "Consider it, child." Then, with a sweep, she made for the Palace where its inhabitants rested completely unawares to the plight of the frozen elf. One by one, each of the onlookers shuffled behind their master, casting baleful glances at the poor frozen elf maid, then looking away. Ilaya was the last to leave, trying not to cry tears of salty warmth. "Ilaya." Breton motioned, calling from between the trees where most of the others had already gone. "One moment..." Ilaya glanced at Ava, who stood so still she might've been death itself if not for the slow clenching and unclenching of her bloodied hands. Quickly, before she could change her mind, she slipped off her cloak and let it fall to the ground behind her. Then, with a skip and a quick shuffle of her skirts, she raced towards the Palace and Breton. "...I lost my cloak that is all." She admitted with a flirtatious smile before ducking into the warmth. After they were gone, Ava felt herself cracking, inside and out. With a sob, she collapsed into the snow bank, her frozen fingers barely able to pull Ilaya's warm cloak around her shoulders. The tears she tasted her were hot, burning a trail on her pale cheeks. She could not move, could not make her body respond to her cries. She lay in the snow, the soft flakes caressing her cheek, and prayed for death to be swift. ~ When they came and told her that her little sister could not be woken, Vellesta Rivermoon did something she had never done before: she begged. When she arrived in the dark little room that served for a hospital, Vella immediately fell to her knees next to the frozen form of her sister and begged the slight bespectacled elf that held her heart in thrall to return to her a life to live, to give her a second chance. When the physician could only shake his head and shrug his shoulders, Vella flew into a rage and threatened to do nasty unmentionable things that included his stethoscope and his glasses. It was finally Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood himself who'd been first on the scene, who had to step in and pull the enraged and panicked Vella off the poor Physician who could get no work done for fear of the hell-bringer. They sat in a corner, Legolas and Vella, while the physician busied himself with the small elf who slept a slumber of ice upon the cool bed. Every once in a while, Vella would stiffen up and begin afresh a new wave of fury and frustration only to be calmed by the cool Prince beside her, who was careful to keep a tight grip on the fiery elf maid. The day grew dark and still, Ava did not awake. Surrounded by warm plates and layers of blankets, the pallor never left her cheeks, the rosy flush did not return. Vella seethed and worried while Legolas thought of other things lest he too, lose his mind. "You found her?" Vella finally asked, her voice raw with worry. She turned to Legolas beside her and laid her head on his shoulder. She felt tired and limp, her energy spent. Legolas nodded, his eyes never leaving that all-too-still form of the sleeping Ava. "In the forest, not two paces from the palace. She was practically buried in the snow and she appeared to be sleeping." Legolas bit his lip to keep from saying what he thought, that it had looked like Ava had gone out there for a purpose, that she had intentionally fallen asleep in the snow to take her own life though to an elf, such a thought was ludicrous. "I tried to wake her but when she would not rise, I knew something was wrong indeed." Vella could feel his thoughts and where they went, for she too, feared the same thing. She looked at him, gazing into his tired blue yes and thought again about how he hid the darkness from her. "You fear she hopes to leave, to face death rather than live this life. TO get as far away from me as possible. TO go as far as death." There was no mistaking the bitter daggers that Vella drove into herself. Legolas squeezed the hand he held tighter and thought of all the times Vell had been there for him, there to hold him up when he fell. He would be here, here against the wind and cold, against the knives that she drove against herself. He would be her shield and her sword. The great doors to the room suddenly burst open and Lord Delanthor rushed in, his regal bearing weighed down with distress and worry. He had been interrupted from his meeting with the councils to the news that one of his daughters could not be woken. Expecting the worst, Delanthor barraged into the room demanding answers. "Father!" Vella jumped up and ran to him. She threw her arms around him as she once had, the young elf maid with her mother's shimmering eyes, and marvelled at the sobs that threatened to come out of her heart. She had not cried in front of other beings for centuries; her tears she kept private, as close as her soul as her pain. "Father!" And yet, the tears threatened so overwhelmingly that Vella could not hold back. A single tear fell onto her Father's awaiting hands, burning its course deep into Lord Delanthor's heart. "Oh Vella, what has happened? What is wrong!?" He spied the still form of Ava and his heart stopped. "Oh Vell, is she...is she.." His own pain threatened to consume. Vella backed off, her initial impulse for comfort abetted and replaced with cool, collected calm. "She's frozen, Father." Delanthor turned to Legolas who managed to fill in the gaps. After all had been explained, the great lord, advisor to the King of Mirkwood, took a seat next to his sleeping daughter and pictured over and over, the things he would do and say if she were ever returned to him. The little company was silent, watching and waiting and seething and dying. Every hourly rise of the broken moon, the physician would return, casting wary glances at Vella, to check on the state of the sleeping maiden only to shake his head and return to other duties. "You should sleep." Vella turned to Legolas, "You could get sick, you're already exhausted. I shall call you if she awakes." "I could say the same thing to you." The Prince stretched, feeling each of his limbs turning in their joints. "And yet, we shall both stay here until the dawn breaks, shall we not?" Vella pressed her lips together in a grimace of a smile. Delanthor gazed at the whisperings of the two elves in the corner but made no move to partake. The night wore on. Dawn rose finding the Prince and Vella asleep against each other, and Delanthor very nearly so himself. It was as the grey filtering of a Firith sun sprinkled the sky that Ava Rivermoon first opened her eyes after her ordeal. For a moment, she thought herself in the realm of the Dead, that forbidden place where few elves ever set foot. Am I dead? She wondered, gazing up at the dark grey ceiling and the pale waning light from the corner. Then, she glanced to the side and saw her father, his head bowed in exhaustion. "Daddy?" Her voice sounded odd to her own ears, distant and tired. She tried to lift her hand but could not seem to move. "Father!" Her cry woke Delanthor immediately. "Ava!" He woke from the drowse with a start. "Ava!" She blinked up at him, as if seeing him for the very first time. "Father.." "Oh Avie.." He grabbed her hands and felt tears rushing to his eyes, not realizing how much he'd been hoping for this exact moment. He held her hands close to his heart, to feel their warmth and life. "My daughter.." He whispered and pulled her close. Ava felt her body enveloped in warmth and for the first time since she'd given up on life out in the snowy drifts of Mirkwood Forest, she felt warm again. "Father...I missed you." Delanthor, a season warrior, struggled to hold back tears. He realized he'd never been so scared in his entire life than the night he'd just faced; orcs were nothing in the face of Death. Father and daughter embraced, each wrapped up in the mystery of love, when suddenly a gigantic sneeze shook both back to reality. Ava gasped, realizing her nose was entire made of plastic. She sneezed again. Delanthor smiled, one arm protectively around her. "Perhaps you caught a cold." Ava didn't miss the irony in the statement. Her sneezes, however, had awoken the two slumbering elves in the corner. With a cry, Vella tore herself from slumber with a wild axe. "What-what happened! What-what!?" She glanced around wildly, while Legolas struggled to figure out what had happened. Suddenly, both realized the elf maid that sat up from the long sleep and blinked at them with enormously blue eyes. Vella froze, her eyes on the younger elf. It took Legolas several pokes of the finger to get her attention. "Go to her, Vella." He whispered, prodding her forward gently. Ava did not miss their closeness and it wrung her heart; she turned away. Mistaking the flash of pain that had crossed her sister's face to be hate, Vella stopped herself. "She cannot bear to see me." "Don't be silly, Vell, of course she wants to see you." Ava stared at her pale hands, feeling the chill hand of guilt over her heart. In her mind, she was able to throw herself into her sister's arms and apologize over and over for her faults and her follies, for her mistakes and her cruelty. She'd never realized the depth of Amethys' evil until she'd been the brunt of them, she'd never realized how wrong she'd been. I'm sorry, she thought, over and over, but could not seem to make herself move. Vella studied Ava's expression and mistook it for irritation and anger. Ava felt Vella's hesitation and mistook it for contempt. Both sisters stood across a gulf too wide to be crossed in a single moment. And though each shed tears for the other, they could not make that step forward into the abyss. "She died to get away from me." She said dully, turning away and leaving the stifling room as quickly as she could. Legolas went after her, catching her hand before she could leave the Palace. "What are you doing, Vella!?" He demanded, angry. "Your sister is returned to you, alive and well, and you cannot even give her a decent welcome!" She tore herself away from the Prince, stung. "She does not want to see me." To her consternation, her words came out sounding altogether too close to tears. "I-I could not bear her hate." When she turned and ran, the Prince did not try to follow for he did not understand the ways of sisterhood.
