Jenien watched her companion silently across the crackling flames. They had
hardly spoken a word to one another all day, breaking the silence only to
inquire as to each other's well-being. She sighed. She truly hadn't meant
for him to have been as gobsmacked as he was at her competency. If only
Arwen hadn't been involved . . . Much as Jenien loved her friend, she
couldn't help but feel her life would be simpler if she would keep her nose
out of things.
Licomias passed her a bowl.
'I hope it's to your liking, my lady.'
That was it. Jenien decided she had had enough. She put the bowl down gently, and locked eyes with the surprised elf.
'Licomias, you do know my name, don't you?'
He looked wary.
'Yes, my lady.'
'Then kindly use it. I won't break.'
Licomias hid a smile.
'Yes, Jenien.'
They sat in silence for another while, each immersed in their own thoughts. Then Licomias spoke.
'If you don't mind my asking, Jenien, how is it that you know so much about the ways of the road? I was under the impression you had no experience of life outside Rivendell.'
Jenien laughed.
'Whoever gave you that notion?'
He shrugged.
'I am not of Elrond's people, Licomias. I was born in Mirkwood. That's how I know the ways of our race.'
'Mirkwood? Whatever were you doing in Rivendell, then?'
Jenien snorted.
'Visiting Arwen, though I was beginning to wish I hadn't.'
Licomias frowned in confusion.
'Why?'
'She's been teasing me about Legolas.'
Seeing the confusion on his face deepen, Jenien hastened to explain.
'Legolas is Thranduil's son, the prince of Mirkwood. We've been friends since childhood, and somehow Arwen has got it into her head that we are destined for each other.'
'Are you?'
'Goodness, no! If we got married, we'd kill each other!'
Licomias joined her laughter, trying to shake the vague feeling of jealousy that had settled over him.
'What about you?' Jenien asked. 'Are you Rivendell, or otherwise?'
He smiled, shaking his head.
'No, I'm Rivendell.'
Jenien laughed suddenly.
'Is the old rhyme true? Rivendell born and Rivendell bred -'
'- strong in the arm, and thick in the head,' Licomias finished. 'I wouldn't know. Do I come across as all brawn, no brain?'
She pretended to think about it.
'No, not really,' she conceded. 'It's a shame though. It's a fantastic rhyme.'
The indignant look on Licomias' face dissipated under her peals of silvery laughter. He sat back with a sheepish grin.
'My mother was Lothlorien,' he told her, once she had calmed down.
Jenien sobered, seeing the sadness on his features.
'Was?'
'She was Celebrian's closest companion,' he explained. 'She followed her into the West after they was attacked. Elrond took me in after that. He's a true friend.'
Jenien nodded. It had been terrible when Celebrian had been attacked on the road to Rivendell. She'd been hit with a poisoned arrow, and somehow never quite recovered from its after-effects. After years of trying to live with the pain, she left Elrond, and Rivendell, to journey to the West. No one had heard anything of her since.
'I never knew my mother,' she said quietly. 'She and my father died in an attack on our village a few hours after I was born.'
Licomias gazed compassionately on her.
'In many ways, it is better that you never knew her, Jenien. I know that my heart will grieve for my mother until the day I die.'
They stared into the flames, united in sorrow. Then Jenien roused herself.
'Well, on that high note -' Licomias laughed - 'I think I'll turn in. Good night, Licomias.'
Hazel eyes flickered over her as she rolled into her blankets.
'Good night, Jenien.'
*~*~*
'I understand that,' Licomias was saying. 'All I want to know is if you will buy these horses!'
Jenien sighed. Looking up, she caught the innkeeper's wife's eye and went over to the woman. Having already spent the night there, the little elf would have thought her companion would have known not to go to the man of the house. Still, he was male himself.
She grimaced. He'd spent the last four days trying to keep the pace at one he thought a lady could take. It was only when she had overtaken him the previous morning that they had reached anything resembling a good speed.
While the men argued, the women settled the bill, including the sale of the horses. Jenien embraced the plump woman, sharing a warm smile with the children of the house. She went over to where Licomias was gesticulating wildly.
'Licomias, we really must be going,' she said.
He paused for a moment to look at her.
'I haven't arranged the sale, my lady.'
She smiled at the innkeeper, who was receiving the same treatment from his wife.
'That doesn't matter,' she told him, placing a small hand on his arm. 'It's all settled.'
He stared at the hand on his arm, raising his gaze to her eyes. Licomias took the hint, placing his own hand over hers.
'Right. Well, it's been a pleasure doing business with you. Good day.'
He grabbed his pack and followed Jenien from the inn.
Settling into a steady pace beside her, he asked,
'How did you manage that?'
She smiled mischievously.
'Just use your eyes, Licomias. That innkeeper doesn't blow his own nose without his wife's permission. It stood to reason that she would be the one to make the deal with.'
'Oh.'
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his face fall as he realised what a fool he must have looked. If only he knew; he could never look a fool to her. He was her soulmate, of that she was certain. Why else would she feel so moved every time his eyes rested on her?
Licomias berated himself inwardly for his lack of sense. It was only the latest in a long line of misguided attempts to impress her on this journey. He had tried to keep the speed down to spare her feet; she'd overtaken him. He'd attempted to show some skill at hunting; she'd almost made him swallow his tongue by sneaking up on him. And now this. Perfect.
Jenien turned slightly and smiled at him as they wandered off the road and into the trees. The tall elf tried to still his hammering heart. He couldn't believe what was happening to him. Only days ago, he had been known as one who didn't believe in love, and now he was falling, hard, for a young woman he hardly knew.
Suddenly, a sound caught his ears. He put a hand out to still his companion, a finger to his lips. Jenien frowned at him, nodding her assent at his request for silence. She watched, enthralled, as he silently unsheathed his sword, indicating for her to arm herself. She did so, her green eyes scanning the forest around them. She could feel her fear freezing over her heart. What was going on?
Then she heard it. The sound of many feet running towards them, the grunts and war-cries of orcs. A patrol was passing through the woods and would soon be upon them. She wondered where they were, the sound seemed to come from all around them. Licomias turned her gently, to face the west. She gave him a quizzical look; that was where the sound was quietest.
He was peering into the trees. As she gazed at him in some confusion, a small smile curved his lips, and he pointed. She stared, but she could see nothing. Licomias gestured for her to look again, confident in his own ability. Jenien returned her gaze to the trees, a little concerned at her seeming inability to see what was there. A flicker of movement caught her eye, and then she saw them, a howling mass of orcs and goblins, thundering through the woods.
Their destination was not them, she noticed, but far off to their right. There were too many there for this to be an ordinary patrol. Jenien exchanged a glance with Licomias. They knew of the darkness rising in the South, in Mordor. The Dark Lord Sauron was calling his minions to him.
Licomias pulled Jenien to his side, pressing his back against a wide- trunked tree. They stood, motionless, as the hundreds of creatures ran past, heedless of their silent observers. The two elves waited until the army had passed, hardly daring to breathe for fear they would be noticed.
Jenien gave a great sigh and stepped forward into the clearing, her daggers falling to her sides in relief. She turned back to Licomias, who was still pressed against the tree, his eyes darting about them in confusion. Suddenly, he leapt forward with a cry, pushing her to the ground.
She looked up in anger to see him impaled on an orc's sword, the jagged blade cutting deep into his chest. Jenien struggled to her feet, rushing to Licomias' aid. She lashed out with her daggers, and the orc fell, lifeless, to the forest floor. The little elf fell to her knees beside her fallen companion, almost sobbing in terror as she tried to find some sign that he still lived. She was rewarded with an agonised shout as she wrenched the blackened blade from his chest. Licomias gave her a weak smile, swallowing against the blood that rose in his throat.
'Leave me,' he rasped.
Jenien could feel tears beginning to run down her cheeks as she grasped his hands tightly.
'I won't do that,' she promised, trying to see some way of saving him.
They were only half a mile from Mirkwood. If only she had remained by his side until he'd told her to move, they would be on their way there by now. The dying elf reached up with a bloodstained hand and stroked her cheek.
'You are my light . . . my strength. Be strong . . .'
He stiffened suddenly and his eyes rolled. Jenien threw back her head and screamed, one long terrible sound of indefinable grief. Her sobs echoed through the forest.
Licomias passed her a bowl.
'I hope it's to your liking, my lady.'
That was it. Jenien decided she had had enough. She put the bowl down gently, and locked eyes with the surprised elf.
'Licomias, you do know my name, don't you?'
He looked wary.
'Yes, my lady.'
'Then kindly use it. I won't break.'
Licomias hid a smile.
'Yes, Jenien.'
They sat in silence for another while, each immersed in their own thoughts. Then Licomias spoke.
'If you don't mind my asking, Jenien, how is it that you know so much about the ways of the road? I was under the impression you had no experience of life outside Rivendell.'
Jenien laughed.
'Whoever gave you that notion?'
He shrugged.
'I am not of Elrond's people, Licomias. I was born in Mirkwood. That's how I know the ways of our race.'
'Mirkwood? Whatever were you doing in Rivendell, then?'
Jenien snorted.
'Visiting Arwen, though I was beginning to wish I hadn't.'
Licomias frowned in confusion.
'Why?'
'She's been teasing me about Legolas.'
Seeing the confusion on his face deepen, Jenien hastened to explain.
'Legolas is Thranduil's son, the prince of Mirkwood. We've been friends since childhood, and somehow Arwen has got it into her head that we are destined for each other.'
'Are you?'
'Goodness, no! If we got married, we'd kill each other!'
Licomias joined her laughter, trying to shake the vague feeling of jealousy that had settled over him.
'What about you?' Jenien asked. 'Are you Rivendell, or otherwise?'
He smiled, shaking his head.
'No, I'm Rivendell.'
Jenien laughed suddenly.
'Is the old rhyme true? Rivendell born and Rivendell bred -'
'- strong in the arm, and thick in the head,' Licomias finished. 'I wouldn't know. Do I come across as all brawn, no brain?'
She pretended to think about it.
'No, not really,' she conceded. 'It's a shame though. It's a fantastic rhyme.'
The indignant look on Licomias' face dissipated under her peals of silvery laughter. He sat back with a sheepish grin.
'My mother was Lothlorien,' he told her, once she had calmed down.
Jenien sobered, seeing the sadness on his features.
'Was?'
'She was Celebrian's closest companion,' he explained. 'She followed her into the West after they was attacked. Elrond took me in after that. He's a true friend.'
Jenien nodded. It had been terrible when Celebrian had been attacked on the road to Rivendell. She'd been hit with a poisoned arrow, and somehow never quite recovered from its after-effects. After years of trying to live with the pain, she left Elrond, and Rivendell, to journey to the West. No one had heard anything of her since.
'I never knew my mother,' she said quietly. 'She and my father died in an attack on our village a few hours after I was born.'
Licomias gazed compassionately on her.
'In many ways, it is better that you never knew her, Jenien. I know that my heart will grieve for my mother until the day I die.'
They stared into the flames, united in sorrow. Then Jenien roused herself.
'Well, on that high note -' Licomias laughed - 'I think I'll turn in. Good night, Licomias.'
Hazel eyes flickered over her as she rolled into her blankets.
'Good night, Jenien.'
*~*~*
'I understand that,' Licomias was saying. 'All I want to know is if you will buy these horses!'
Jenien sighed. Looking up, she caught the innkeeper's wife's eye and went over to the woman. Having already spent the night there, the little elf would have thought her companion would have known not to go to the man of the house. Still, he was male himself.
She grimaced. He'd spent the last four days trying to keep the pace at one he thought a lady could take. It was only when she had overtaken him the previous morning that they had reached anything resembling a good speed.
While the men argued, the women settled the bill, including the sale of the horses. Jenien embraced the plump woman, sharing a warm smile with the children of the house. She went over to where Licomias was gesticulating wildly.
'Licomias, we really must be going,' she said.
He paused for a moment to look at her.
'I haven't arranged the sale, my lady.'
She smiled at the innkeeper, who was receiving the same treatment from his wife.
'That doesn't matter,' she told him, placing a small hand on his arm. 'It's all settled.'
He stared at the hand on his arm, raising his gaze to her eyes. Licomias took the hint, placing his own hand over hers.
'Right. Well, it's been a pleasure doing business with you. Good day.'
He grabbed his pack and followed Jenien from the inn.
Settling into a steady pace beside her, he asked,
'How did you manage that?'
She smiled mischievously.
'Just use your eyes, Licomias. That innkeeper doesn't blow his own nose without his wife's permission. It stood to reason that she would be the one to make the deal with.'
'Oh.'
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his face fall as he realised what a fool he must have looked. If only he knew; he could never look a fool to her. He was her soulmate, of that she was certain. Why else would she feel so moved every time his eyes rested on her?
Licomias berated himself inwardly for his lack of sense. It was only the latest in a long line of misguided attempts to impress her on this journey. He had tried to keep the speed down to spare her feet; she'd overtaken him. He'd attempted to show some skill at hunting; she'd almost made him swallow his tongue by sneaking up on him. And now this. Perfect.
Jenien turned slightly and smiled at him as they wandered off the road and into the trees. The tall elf tried to still his hammering heart. He couldn't believe what was happening to him. Only days ago, he had been known as one who didn't believe in love, and now he was falling, hard, for a young woman he hardly knew.
Suddenly, a sound caught his ears. He put a hand out to still his companion, a finger to his lips. Jenien frowned at him, nodding her assent at his request for silence. She watched, enthralled, as he silently unsheathed his sword, indicating for her to arm herself. She did so, her green eyes scanning the forest around them. She could feel her fear freezing over her heart. What was going on?
Then she heard it. The sound of many feet running towards them, the grunts and war-cries of orcs. A patrol was passing through the woods and would soon be upon them. She wondered where they were, the sound seemed to come from all around them. Licomias turned her gently, to face the west. She gave him a quizzical look; that was where the sound was quietest.
He was peering into the trees. As she gazed at him in some confusion, a small smile curved his lips, and he pointed. She stared, but she could see nothing. Licomias gestured for her to look again, confident in his own ability. Jenien returned her gaze to the trees, a little concerned at her seeming inability to see what was there. A flicker of movement caught her eye, and then she saw them, a howling mass of orcs and goblins, thundering through the woods.
Their destination was not them, she noticed, but far off to their right. There were too many there for this to be an ordinary patrol. Jenien exchanged a glance with Licomias. They knew of the darkness rising in the South, in Mordor. The Dark Lord Sauron was calling his minions to him.
Licomias pulled Jenien to his side, pressing his back against a wide- trunked tree. They stood, motionless, as the hundreds of creatures ran past, heedless of their silent observers. The two elves waited until the army had passed, hardly daring to breathe for fear they would be noticed.
Jenien gave a great sigh and stepped forward into the clearing, her daggers falling to her sides in relief. She turned back to Licomias, who was still pressed against the tree, his eyes darting about them in confusion. Suddenly, he leapt forward with a cry, pushing her to the ground.
She looked up in anger to see him impaled on an orc's sword, the jagged blade cutting deep into his chest. Jenien struggled to her feet, rushing to Licomias' aid. She lashed out with her daggers, and the orc fell, lifeless, to the forest floor. The little elf fell to her knees beside her fallen companion, almost sobbing in terror as she tried to find some sign that he still lived. She was rewarded with an agonised shout as she wrenched the blackened blade from his chest. Licomias gave her a weak smile, swallowing against the blood that rose in his throat.
'Leave me,' he rasped.
Jenien could feel tears beginning to run down her cheeks as she grasped his hands tightly.
'I won't do that,' she promised, trying to see some way of saving him.
They were only half a mile from Mirkwood. If only she had remained by his side until he'd told her to move, they would be on their way there by now. The dying elf reached up with a bloodstained hand and stroked her cheek.
'You are my light . . . my strength. Be strong . . .'
He stiffened suddenly and his eyes rolled. Jenien threw back her head and screamed, one long terrible sound of indefinable grief. Her sobs echoed through the forest.