Chapter Seven --- THE ELF
*** I'm sorry this took so long...I'll follow this one up with a new chappie soon. I promise!***
Tall and noble he was, and as handsome as the sons of kings. His gaze was keen as he looked down upon her with worry and concern, and Mikhaella felt as if she was punched in the gut as he gazed down at her with the power of his brilliant blue eyes, which reminded her of the color of the wild, open sky, upon her. The sun shined down upon him, giving him a halo-like effect with his golden hair. He looked like a young god. Never had she beheld so fair and noble a countenance, even among the royalty of Imladriel and Rivendell.
For the first time in her life, Mikhaella, daughter of the Elf-king Tal- Amroth and princess of the elven realm of Imladriel, was speechless.
"Are you alright?" he demanded, one hand reaching out to touch her shoulder in concern while the other led Telumendil to higher---and safer---ground.
She nodded, recovering her wits. "I am fine." Thanks to you. She steadied Telumendil as they turned to watch the dark horsemen struggling in the grip of the icy Bruinen, whose waters had suddenly become even more turbulent than before. Odd...the water was not nearly as unmerciful a few moments ago...
The Elf raised his bow, looking sideways at her until she met his gaze. "Do you want me to finish them off, my lady?"
Confused that her heart seemed to beat faster whenever those blue orbs were directed at her, Mikhaella fervently wished that she was in better shape, and that her emotions weren't as high-strung. The fear, anxiety and strain of the past few days had robbed her of her usual calm and aloof demeanor --- the demeanor that had been drilled into her through centuries of being the daughter of the elf-king of Imladriel. She returned his gaze with a calm look that did not mirror her inner turmoil. He was just an elf, she told herself, why did she react so?
"Sir, your arrows may wound them, but they cannot kill them. These...creatures...are not of our world." She repressed a shudder as she thought of how nearly she'd gotten into their clutches. "I thank you for coming when you did."
He lowered his bow, his brow furrowed. "Those creatures are as foul as the darkness of Mordor," he said angrily, "How came you by them?"
"That, my lord, is a long and tiring story," Mikhaella shifted on top of Telumendil to wrap her cloak around herself so that she would not be so cold. She was safe now, she reminded herself. It was clear that the Nazgul were never going to make it to their side of the river. The waters wre growing deeper and frothier as each second passed. The Riders, hissing wrathfully, began to turn around and make for the side they had just left. Mikhaella could only watch, numb. She couldn't even summon the feeling of relief.
A strange wind blew around them, stopping the Riders and making them pause. The same strange wind made the fine hairs on Mikhaella's skin stand. She shivered, sensing the subtle change in the air around them. Some Power was at work; she recognized the signs immediately. But whose?
"Arwen." She whispered, and shut her eyes. Her friend had made it, after all.
"There is something coming, my lady." The voice of the Elf beside her was low, "I can feel it."
The next moment the wind howled, bringing the sound of the whispered words of a spell floating to their ears; speaking in the Elf-tongue:
Nin o Hitaeglir lasto beth daer....rimmo nin Bruinen dan in Ulaer...
The echo of the voice faded away as quickly as it had come, but the sound was replaced by a low, dull roar that seemed to come from a distance....beyond the riverbend. The earth trembled at their feet, and the horses neighed in fear. The Black Riders saw that the water level was rising rapidly, and tried to make it back to the safety of the shore; but then all hell broke loose.
From around the riverbend came a great roaring and rushing --- and the waters of the Bruinen, invoked by the Elvish spell, flowed and overwhelmed the Black Riders in a great rush of wrathful water. It was so quick, they didn't have time to flee before it --- they were borne away as the wave broke on them in a terrible rush. Their cries were lost as they disappeared beneath the roaring water.
Mikhaella and her rescuer recoiled in shock as they watched the great wave finally break and roar away. The waters of the Bruinen settled back into that imperturbable state, as it was before the spell had taken effect. It flowed on as if nothing had happened. The wind blew gently once again, and in the distance, the birds began to sing.
Mikhaella realized that it was over---the exhausting ride, the desperate gamble for time, the pursuit....
An overwhelming sense of relief engulfed her, leaving her feeling weak and spent. She laid her head against Telumendil's warmth, letting out a soft sigh that barely stirred the gentle horse's mane.
The Elf who had rescued her watched her with hooded eyes. They took in her dusty, travel-stained robes that, for all their wear, still spoke of noble blood because of the finery of their making; and her weary face. Yet for all the dust and grime, he saw that she was beautiful, with eyes that reminded him of his beloved forest home's fresh leaves.
"It is over," he spoke, reaching out hesitantly to touch her shoulder, "You have nothing more to fear."
Mikhaella met his gaze. "Yes, it is over." She smiled wearily, "I owe you a debt, my lord. You do not know how timely your arrival was."
"I was passing by when I heard the splashes in the water. I could not just leave and ignore a damsel in distress." He smiled back. He was totally without arrogance and hauteur; she was drawn to him at once.
She extended a dusty hand, slightly reddened from holding strained reins for a long time, "Mikhaella of Imladriel, in your debt, my lord."
He took her hand and kissed it, dust and all, his eyes never leaving hers. When his lips touched her skin it tingled, and Mikhaella felt a jolt of awareness through her body. She bit her lip, unsettled. He made her feel strange.
"Legolas of Mirkwood, at your service, my lady." He said. He still did not let go of her hand.
Legolas. "Laeg" for green and "Las" for leaf. A very fitting name for a Wood-Elf, and for such a noble specimen, at that, Mikhaella thought. It registered on her that he was still holding her hand...
It wasn't proper, and it was not ladylike of her at all to allow him such liberties but as Mikhaella looked down at her hand in his, all of these thoughts just slipped from her mind like melting snow upon spring's arrival. It felt good to have him hold her hand; he was warm and firm---
Mikhaella flushed and looked away from their joined hands. Desperate to look anywhere else but at their hands, she raised her gaze to his.
A mistake.
His eyes---as blue and clear as the skies---showed the promise of wit, intelligence, and strength of character. And as she looked into them, she felt that she could fall into those deep blue depths and never ever want to get out.
And right now he was looking at her intently in a way that made her feel terribly self-conscious. She was painfully aware of how dishevelled and dirty she must look to him. She looked away, not trusting herself to speak.
Oh, this will please Arwen mightily, knowing that for once in my life I had nothing witty or clever to say...
But then he lifted her chin with his free hand, and gazed at her face, checking for injuries. Mikhaella felt her heart beat faster, and a warm glow began to spread through her. He was concerned, and he cared...
"I...I am fine," she managed to say in a voice that sounded strange and breathless to her own ears. "Thanks to you." There. She'd put her original thoughts into words.
He looked down at her intensely, not saying a word. Almost unknowingly, his thumb moved to gently caress her cheek. Mikhaella's eyes drifted close. What was he doing to her? Whatever it was, it felt...right. She did not feel that he was taking advantage of her or anything like that...his actions were gentle and non-threatening; and she wanted him to never stop gazing at her in that way.
At last he spoke: "You're beautiful."
And to him she was. She was drawn and weary, yes, but her face was like nothing he'd ever seen before. Fair as all their people were, but not in that way that most elfmaids were fair---her skin was flushed with health and touched by the sun. Her features were not lovely in the sense that they were perfectly proportioned, but were bold and strong. Her gaze was uncertain because he was a stranger to her, but when she looked at him she did so with a certain straight-forwardness that he rarely encountered in a female. And her eyes---they amazed him; held him enthralled. Green they were, and as clear and vibrant as the lush forests that he loved to call home. What luck, what hand of Fate had brought him to one such as her?
He moved closer, ignoring the whinney of his horse and the snort of Mikhaella's. Something was at work here, he could feel it as surely as if it had been a spell. But it wasn't. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before. "My lady, may I ask a boon of you, for rescuing you?"
Mikhaella simply nodded. It was so with all Elvish debts. She owed him her life, and could not refuse him. What would he ask for? Gold, perhaps, to compensate for his time? Somehow she didn't think so. "Ask for it, my lord, and if it is within my power to grant it I shall. But if you need gold, then I would ask you to wait and claim it a later time---"
"There is no need to wait," he said, and look in his eyes gave her pause, "I claim it now." And with that he bent and kissed her.
Shock rendered Mikhaella immobile, but she had naught to fear. His kiss was light, and as gentle and as unthreatening as his caress. His lips on hers made her feel dazed, yet within she felt the ice in her melt away, banishing the cold and the fear. She closed her eyes and surrendered to him. Let him claim his boon, it was little enough to ask for.
He broke off the kiss as gently as he started it, and straightened. He looked into her eyes and was silent. He was aware of an intense jolt of desire...and joy. She was the elfmaid he'd rescued, and now---she stirred his feelings in a way no one ever did before. Certainly not just having met her...and certainly not after sharing just one kiss. What magic did she weave upon him, what Force had brought them together? Gazing at her now, he could not believe that a mere hour ago, he hadn't even known she'd existed. Now she was here, within his grasp, looking lovelier than ever, flushed from his kiss; and he could not envision life without one such as her to inspire him to be a better man.
"Mikhaella," he said her name like a prayer, "Mikhaella."
She smiled at him with no guile, no shyness. He was struck anew at how rare and beautiful she was. "Legolas."
*** I'm sorry this took so long...I'll follow this one up with a new chappie soon. I promise!***
Tall and noble he was, and as handsome as the sons of kings. His gaze was keen as he looked down upon her with worry and concern, and Mikhaella felt as if she was punched in the gut as he gazed down at her with the power of his brilliant blue eyes, which reminded her of the color of the wild, open sky, upon her. The sun shined down upon him, giving him a halo-like effect with his golden hair. He looked like a young god. Never had she beheld so fair and noble a countenance, even among the royalty of Imladriel and Rivendell.
For the first time in her life, Mikhaella, daughter of the Elf-king Tal- Amroth and princess of the elven realm of Imladriel, was speechless.
"Are you alright?" he demanded, one hand reaching out to touch her shoulder in concern while the other led Telumendil to higher---and safer---ground.
She nodded, recovering her wits. "I am fine." Thanks to you. She steadied Telumendil as they turned to watch the dark horsemen struggling in the grip of the icy Bruinen, whose waters had suddenly become even more turbulent than before. Odd...the water was not nearly as unmerciful a few moments ago...
The Elf raised his bow, looking sideways at her until she met his gaze. "Do you want me to finish them off, my lady?"
Confused that her heart seemed to beat faster whenever those blue orbs were directed at her, Mikhaella fervently wished that she was in better shape, and that her emotions weren't as high-strung. The fear, anxiety and strain of the past few days had robbed her of her usual calm and aloof demeanor --- the demeanor that had been drilled into her through centuries of being the daughter of the elf-king of Imladriel. She returned his gaze with a calm look that did not mirror her inner turmoil. He was just an elf, she told herself, why did she react so?
"Sir, your arrows may wound them, but they cannot kill them. These...creatures...are not of our world." She repressed a shudder as she thought of how nearly she'd gotten into their clutches. "I thank you for coming when you did."
He lowered his bow, his brow furrowed. "Those creatures are as foul as the darkness of Mordor," he said angrily, "How came you by them?"
"That, my lord, is a long and tiring story," Mikhaella shifted on top of Telumendil to wrap her cloak around herself so that she would not be so cold. She was safe now, she reminded herself. It was clear that the Nazgul were never going to make it to their side of the river. The waters wre growing deeper and frothier as each second passed. The Riders, hissing wrathfully, began to turn around and make for the side they had just left. Mikhaella could only watch, numb. She couldn't even summon the feeling of relief.
A strange wind blew around them, stopping the Riders and making them pause. The same strange wind made the fine hairs on Mikhaella's skin stand. She shivered, sensing the subtle change in the air around them. Some Power was at work; she recognized the signs immediately. But whose?
"Arwen." She whispered, and shut her eyes. Her friend had made it, after all.
"There is something coming, my lady." The voice of the Elf beside her was low, "I can feel it."
The next moment the wind howled, bringing the sound of the whispered words of a spell floating to their ears; speaking in the Elf-tongue:
Nin o Hitaeglir lasto beth daer....rimmo nin Bruinen dan in Ulaer...
The echo of the voice faded away as quickly as it had come, but the sound was replaced by a low, dull roar that seemed to come from a distance....beyond the riverbend. The earth trembled at their feet, and the horses neighed in fear. The Black Riders saw that the water level was rising rapidly, and tried to make it back to the safety of the shore; but then all hell broke loose.
From around the riverbend came a great roaring and rushing --- and the waters of the Bruinen, invoked by the Elvish spell, flowed and overwhelmed the Black Riders in a great rush of wrathful water. It was so quick, they didn't have time to flee before it --- they were borne away as the wave broke on them in a terrible rush. Their cries were lost as they disappeared beneath the roaring water.
Mikhaella and her rescuer recoiled in shock as they watched the great wave finally break and roar away. The waters of the Bruinen settled back into that imperturbable state, as it was before the spell had taken effect. It flowed on as if nothing had happened. The wind blew gently once again, and in the distance, the birds began to sing.
Mikhaella realized that it was over---the exhausting ride, the desperate gamble for time, the pursuit....
An overwhelming sense of relief engulfed her, leaving her feeling weak and spent. She laid her head against Telumendil's warmth, letting out a soft sigh that barely stirred the gentle horse's mane.
The Elf who had rescued her watched her with hooded eyes. They took in her dusty, travel-stained robes that, for all their wear, still spoke of noble blood because of the finery of their making; and her weary face. Yet for all the dust and grime, he saw that she was beautiful, with eyes that reminded him of his beloved forest home's fresh leaves.
"It is over," he spoke, reaching out hesitantly to touch her shoulder, "You have nothing more to fear."
Mikhaella met his gaze. "Yes, it is over." She smiled wearily, "I owe you a debt, my lord. You do not know how timely your arrival was."
"I was passing by when I heard the splashes in the water. I could not just leave and ignore a damsel in distress." He smiled back. He was totally without arrogance and hauteur; she was drawn to him at once.
She extended a dusty hand, slightly reddened from holding strained reins for a long time, "Mikhaella of Imladriel, in your debt, my lord."
He took her hand and kissed it, dust and all, his eyes never leaving hers. When his lips touched her skin it tingled, and Mikhaella felt a jolt of awareness through her body. She bit her lip, unsettled. He made her feel strange.
"Legolas of Mirkwood, at your service, my lady." He said. He still did not let go of her hand.
Legolas. "Laeg" for green and "Las" for leaf. A very fitting name for a Wood-Elf, and for such a noble specimen, at that, Mikhaella thought. It registered on her that he was still holding her hand...
It wasn't proper, and it was not ladylike of her at all to allow him such liberties but as Mikhaella looked down at her hand in his, all of these thoughts just slipped from her mind like melting snow upon spring's arrival. It felt good to have him hold her hand; he was warm and firm---
Mikhaella flushed and looked away from their joined hands. Desperate to look anywhere else but at their hands, she raised her gaze to his.
A mistake.
His eyes---as blue and clear as the skies---showed the promise of wit, intelligence, and strength of character. And as she looked into them, she felt that she could fall into those deep blue depths and never ever want to get out.
And right now he was looking at her intently in a way that made her feel terribly self-conscious. She was painfully aware of how dishevelled and dirty she must look to him. She looked away, not trusting herself to speak.
Oh, this will please Arwen mightily, knowing that for once in my life I had nothing witty or clever to say...
But then he lifted her chin with his free hand, and gazed at her face, checking for injuries. Mikhaella felt her heart beat faster, and a warm glow began to spread through her. He was concerned, and he cared...
"I...I am fine," she managed to say in a voice that sounded strange and breathless to her own ears. "Thanks to you." There. She'd put her original thoughts into words.
He looked down at her intensely, not saying a word. Almost unknowingly, his thumb moved to gently caress her cheek. Mikhaella's eyes drifted close. What was he doing to her? Whatever it was, it felt...right. She did not feel that he was taking advantage of her or anything like that...his actions were gentle and non-threatening; and she wanted him to never stop gazing at her in that way.
At last he spoke: "You're beautiful."
And to him she was. She was drawn and weary, yes, but her face was like nothing he'd ever seen before. Fair as all their people were, but not in that way that most elfmaids were fair---her skin was flushed with health and touched by the sun. Her features were not lovely in the sense that they were perfectly proportioned, but were bold and strong. Her gaze was uncertain because he was a stranger to her, but when she looked at him she did so with a certain straight-forwardness that he rarely encountered in a female. And her eyes---they amazed him; held him enthralled. Green they were, and as clear and vibrant as the lush forests that he loved to call home. What luck, what hand of Fate had brought him to one such as her?
He moved closer, ignoring the whinney of his horse and the snort of Mikhaella's. Something was at work here, he could feel it as surely as if it had been a spell. But it wasn't. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before. "My lady, may I ask a boon of you, for rescuing you?"
Mikhaella simply nodded. It was so with all Elvish debts. She owed him her life, and could not refuse him. What would he ask for? Gold, perhaps, to compensate for his time? Somehow she didn't think so. "Ask for it, my lord, and if it is within my power to grant it I shall. But if you need gold, then I would ask you to wait and claim it a later time---"
"There is no need to wait," he said, and look in his eyes gave her pause, "I claim it now." And with that he bent and kissed her.
Shock rendered Mikhaella immobile, but she had naught to fear. His kiss was light, and as gentle and as unthreatening as his caress. His lips on hers made her feel dazed, yet within she felt the ice in her melt away, banishing the cold and the fear. She closed her eyes and surrendered to him. Let him claim his boon, it was little enough to ask for.
He broke off the kiss as gently as he started it, and straightened. He looked into her eyes and was silent. He was aware of an intense jolt of desire...and joy. She was the elfmaid he'd rescued, and now---she stirred his feelings in a way no one ever did before. Certainly not just having met her...and certainly not after sharing just one kiss. What magic did she weave upon him, what Force had brought them together? Gazing at her now, he could not believe that a mere hour ago, he hadn't even known she'd existed. Now she was here, within his grasp, looking lovelier than ever, flushed from his kiss; and he could not envision life without one such as her to inspire him to be a better man.
"Mikhaella," he said her name like a prayer, "Mikhaella."
She smiled at him with no guile, no shyness. He was struck anew at how rare and beautiful she was. "Legolas."