*~*The eagerness of Fairies to possess themselves of human children is one
of the oldest parts of fairy belief. ~Katherine Briggs "An Encyclopedia of
Fairies"*~*
THE FAERIE GOBLET
Chapter 5 ~ "Call of the Sea"
Legolas sat on the clipped grass of Arwen's courtyard and leaned against the stone fountain that Gimli had fashioned for her. One arm lay on the rolled lip of the carved lily and he rested the side of his face against his sleeve. The other hand hung limply over the edge, fingers trailing in the cool water.
Moonlight frosted the surface of the water making it look like wrinkled glass and Arwen's bright fish occasionally lipped at his still fingers. The gentle spring breeze blew the perfume of early flowers into the courtyard, a nightingale sang from the top of one of the towers and on one of the balconies the Queen of Gondor watched with quiet compassion.
But Legolas noticed none of the beauties around him. His entire being was focused inward, on the tumultuous notes of the sea that raged within his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the call to go away.
"I do not wish to leave yet," he whispered through clenched teeth and despite the determination in his voice a tear slipped down the side of his face to splash in the water below.
Never had he felt so alone, so vulnerable. The sea longing had seized him this night with an intensity that left him drained and helpless. I wish Gimli were here, he thought miserably. The dwarf sensed his moods and always knew the best way to dispel them.
*I used to not be so dependent on others.*
The thought rankled Legolas. He'd always been solitary, more so than most of his kind. To need the presence of others felt like a loss of his independence. But there were times, like tonight, when he was caught by the sea longing so strongly he could not fight it. He stayed only because sheer stubbornness would not allow his feet to lead him to the shore; because of his love for his friends, his love of Middle Earth, and . . .
One of the fish wriggled between his fingers and he raised his head, dispelling the hopeless thoughts for a moment. He gazed down at the silvery water and the moon's reflection. Tipping his head back, he let the bright rays shine on his face.
The spring equinox, he thought as he gazed at the moon. The night between the seasons. A night when anything could happen, when the barriers of the real world and the spirit world collapsed, or so the folklore said.
A night of magic.
"Alede . . ."
He whispered the name that he'd not allowed himself to say for years. Fourteen years ago when he'd shared his song with her, he'd had no idea of the consequences . . . or the obligation of what he did. At first it had seemed a game, to decipher each other's emotions across the distances. It had been a form of communication, a way of staying connected, of staying close.
But it had worried him, as well. Alede could not block her individual notes from him. She had not the instincts for it that were natural to Elves. So he had felt everything she had felt, worried when she worried. He experienced her intense joy when he answered her song . . . and the soul deep depression she felt whenever he did not respond. In time, he came to believe that their shared connection was harmful to her. It prevented her from making any kind of life for herself, because she spent each day, each minute reaching out to him. He could satisfy her soul, but not her heart, her mind and body. The more she had longed for him and received only the insubstantial notes in return, the more depressed she had become.
Eventually, Legolas had been forced to acknowledge that his song was detrimental to her. In his desperation, he had hesitantly broached the subject with Aragorn. The King had paid a visit to Ithilien one day and after Legolas had hiked him up and down hills until even Aragorn had grown tire, they had sat companionably in front of a fire in Legolas' great hall.
As an evening rain beat upon the roof, they'd talked of their adventures together and the many struggles they had faced. After much reluctance, Legolas had said, "It must have been very difficult for Arwen to have waited so long for you under such uncertainty. Did you ever feel guilty, even though the wait was not of your choosing?"
"Always," Aragorn had replied readily. "But it was her choice to wait no matter how I tried to dissuade her. But she seemed not to suffer or even doubt as I did."
Legolas had nodded. "She is Elvish. The years pass differently for us and the wait seems not so long as it does to a mortal." He had hesitated then and Aragorn had raised a brow, sensing that his friend struggled with a question.
"Suppose . . ." Legolas had begun, "suppose Arwen had suffered because of her love for you? Suppose you had known that the wait caused her grief, even harm perhaps? What would you have done?"
"I would have tried to dissuade her, to make her see the fault of our affection."
"And if she could not have been dissuaded?"
Aragorn had wrinkled his brow in worry. "I think you had best tell me the whole story Legolas. Obviously something troubles you greatly. When I last spoke with Gimli he expressed concern for you. And indeed, I sense that you are more uneasy than I have ever known you to be."
"I am well." Legolas had dismissed Aragorn's concern and silently reminded himself to speak with Gimli. He did not want the Dwarf worrying about him. Gimli tended to fuss as it was. "I am concerned for someone . . . a woman. She . . . is in love with me."
Aragorn had raised a brow. "Congratulations. Is this such a terrible thing, my friend?"
"Yes, for I am bound to the sea whether I wish it or not. My heart does not have the strength to return her love and she suffers because of it."
"Is she one of your people here?"
Legolas had shaken his head. "Nay, she of the Istari, a wizardess and a healer. She currently resides in Rivendell."
"What is her name?"
"Alede."
Aragorn had nodded. "I have heard of her, though I never met her. Elrond considered her one of his best pupils and Elrohir spoke of her fondly. But how did you meet and how did she form such a strong attachment to you?"
Reluctantly, Legolas had told him the entire story and since Aragorn had grown up with Elvish customs, Legolas omitted nothing from his tale.
"It sounds as if . . ." Aragorn had said slowly after hearing Legolas' narrative, "she has become enslaved to your song. It is a sweet she craves and the dull tedium of everyday life no longer holds her interest."
"Exactly. Because I am not with her, she listens to my song only and forgets to live. With each day she sinks further into melancholy and I am deeply worried for her."
"If you were to travel to Rivendell . . ." Aragorn had begun.
"Then I would only fall into the same trap I laid for myself when I last saw her. When I am with her . . ." he had paused struggling for words, "I have great affection for her. But when we are apart, I begin to doubt myself. I should never have shared song with her. But I find her irresistible. She has the sweetest disposition and yet there is fire beneath her calm surface. If my circumstances were different, I might have been tempted to court her. But she does not understand my sea longing, though she tries. I . . . shared song with her, because I wished to be closer to her and because I thought it might ease her loneliness. But I did not realize how my song would affect her. If she were Elvin, she would instinctively understand and not suffer. But she knows not how to cope with our connection and I did not think to instruct her."
Aragorn had shifted in his chair and stretched his long legs out toward the fire thoughtfully.
"You must let her go, Legolas. If you are convinced that you are doing her harm, then let her go. Break your connection with her and let her go back to her old life."
Legolas had stared at the flames sadly, though his heart had told him this might be the only path. But . . . "Is there no other way? I cannot bear to hurt her so. It seems I have done nothing but hurt her since we first met."
"Yet, you did not ask for her love, Legolas. Remember that. And if what you say is true, then you are hurting her every day anyway. At least if you let her go, she would have the chance to heal. If she is in Rivendell, then she is surrounded by good people who will help her and comfort her."
Legolas had sighed shakily but not responded.
*Why must I always hurt her? I do not wish to. I have never wished to!*
"Legolas, is there a chance that she might ease your sea longing . . ."
"Oh yes," Legolas answered bitterly. "When I am with her, I can barely hear the sea. Her song and her very presence block it almost completely. But that would be a poor excuse for a relationship, would it not?" Legolas had asked, his voice heavy with regret. "How could I live with myself if I used her as a tool for my own comfort? What if my motives are entirely self-serving? The call of the sea barely lets me know my own mind at times. I would not know if it was her love I sought or a fulfillment of my own selfish needs. Alede would give me her heart no matter what my motivations. But she deserves better than that, much better."
Angrily, Legolas had slammed his fist down on the arm of the chair. "By the Valar I wish that I was free to make my own choices! I lived for centuries under my Father's rule and now when I have finally chosen my own path . . . the sea sinks its teeth into me and will not let me go!"
"Perhaps you suffer needlessly. If you were to go into the West . . ."
"No!" Legolas had said, his anger turning quickly to sadness. "I will not give up you or Gimli or my kingdom or the thousands of small things that I love about Middle Earth. When I go . . . it will be because there is nothing left." He had turned haunted eyes toward his mortal friend.
Aragorn had remained silent, only reaching over to squeeze his friend's shoulder.
The next day, Legolas had written an agonizing painful letter to Alede. He had torn it up and started over a dozen times until he was satisfied with it. He knew that his explanation would hurt her, but he had to tell her the truth, to let her know why he acted as he did. In time, he knew she would move on. Alede was a practical woman. She would forget him.
He had also written a letter to Elrohir, begging his old friend to comfort Alede. He knew that she still held great affection for Elrond's son. If that fancy were to bloom again she would forget Legolas. Elrohir's song would erase his own and she would be free to love someone who could love her in return. The Prince of Imladris was an Elf of the highest character. His merry temperament and Noldor blood made him less susceptible to the sea's siren call. He could love her as Legolas could not.
Because both letters were too large to send by way of a hawk, Legolas had entrusted them to one of his own people, an Elf who suffered from the sea longing and had long wished to pass into the West. The old warrior had promised to deliver the letters in Rivendell before his road took him to the Havens.
Alede's song had abruptly halted a few weeks later.
And because her song faded to the barest of whispers, Legolas never thought to wonder if she and Elrohir had received the letters. He just assumed that they had because of the ensuing silence.
~ ~ ~
A slight breeze tossed one of Legolas' braids across his cheek, bringing him out of his reverie. He flung it back with an irritated sweep of his hand.
Most of the time, he kept his mind so busy he had not the chance to think of her. But there were nights like this . . . when he thought he might drown in his loneliness. It had been almost fourteen years since he had heard her song.
Closing his eyes against the moonlight and giving in to his temptation, Legolas reached out with his heart. He knew she would probably be asleep at this late hour and he could slip into her dreams unnoticed. But as he touched her soul across the many miles, he felt that she was awake. Not only awake, but reaching out to him as well.
Surprise made him incautious. He felt her flicker of astonishment at his touch and then overwhelming hurt and confusion. He realized that she'd never given up on him, never forgot him. It was much too late to back away from her. Their connection was strong tonight and he could not walk away from her pain. Concentrating, he focused his emotions, trying to make his thoughts into meaning. He felt Alede reaching out as well. She was trying to make sense of his feelings.
Above him, he heard the thin wail of Gondor's young prince. Ignoring the baby's cries, Legolas focused on the far away connection and . . .
Arwen's scream completely broke his link to Alede. Surging upright beside the fountain, he looked up at the royal balcony. He saw nothing, but heard the sounds of a scuffle and another scream from the Queen. She sounded beyond terror.
Sprinting across the courtyard, Legolas jumped lithely and caught the edge of the stone balcony and hauled himself up over the rail. He plunged into the darkness of Arwen's chambers.
"Legolas!"
Arwen stood near the back of the room, a poker from the fireplace held defensively in her hands. A crooked dark figure hunched in the corner, spitting and hissing at her. Arwen's baby was clutched in the creature's arms. Legolas leaped at it. He had no weapon other than the small knife he carried in his belt for meat. But he lunged forward anyway, headless of the creature's claws and teeth. Confusion broke out as the baby screamed his protests and Legolas tried desperately not to injure the small prince and stab the creature instead.
Light from the hallway almost blinded Legolas as Eowyn burst into the room, carrying a lantern. It illuminated the hideous, dark form, revealing twisted hairy limbs and a snarling face.
"Legolas!" Eowyn cried.
He turned as she held up a sword. The creature seeing his distraction, tried to duck around Arwen. But Legolas caught the deadly steal that Eowyn tossed him and thrust it into the creature's neck.
It stumbled forward with an ear splitting shriek, dumping the baby onto the floor. Arwen tossed the poker aside and caught up the prince, backing away from the twitching beast.
Eowyn cautiously walked over with her light and they all watched the creature's death throes.
"What is it?" Arwen asked in horror.
"It is much too small for an Orc," Legolas replied, "and its features are wrong."
The creature shuddered and rolled over on its back. It opened its mouth, snarling unintelligibly. As they watched, its shape writhed and changed, lengthening and straightening.
All of them gasped as the gnarled hide fell away and smoothed into the tanned skin of a man. Blue eyes gazed up at them for a moment and the mouth opened.
"Don't . . ." the man croaked reaching out a hand toward his fallen pack. But then his eyes glazed over, his arm fell to the side and he died.
Arwen gave a shudder of disgust.
"Is the baby alright?" Eowyn asked worriedly.
"Yes," Arwen answered holding the tiny prince close to her heart. "He is unhurt, just terrified, like me."
Legolas looked around the room. In the crib lay a small bundle of hay wrapped in cloth resembling the shape of a child. He bent down and picked up the pack that the creature/man had dropped. Untying it, he cautiously drew out a delicate goblet. For a moment the goblet glowed with its own light and the strange markings around its side glimmered like starlight. But then the goblet faded and it looked like plain silver.
Legolas straightened up, the goblet in his hand. Eowyn held the light closer to the body.
"It . . . he almost looked like the tales of Hobgoblins that my grandfather used to tell. But I thought those were just stories for children." She turned worried blue eyes to Legolas. "What does all of this mean?"
Legolas looked down at the dead man and then back up at Arwen, holding her now quiet baby. He shook his head slowly.
"I do not know."
~ ~ ~
A/N: Hmm. a strange creature, a glowing goblet. sounds like Legolas needs the advice of a wizard, doesn't it? ;) Find out what Alede is doing in chapter 6 "A Much Needed Lesson".
TK - I saw your note about changing the rating and wish I could. I think I'd better leave this one at "R" though. Some of the later chapters might need that rating. Those of us who are adults will probably think "R" is a bit too strong. But I'd hate to get a letter from some irate 14 year old's mother. I probably don't need to be this cautious, but . . . *I'm rolling my eyes here.* By the way, thank you for your continued support. I always look forward to your reviews! :)
Evil Old Woman - Thank you so much for your kind words!! Actually, I am published in some very unimportant writers journals. And I have enough rejection slips from publishers to wallpaper a room. I'm thinking of putting them in my bathroom and putting them to good use. LOL! Seriously though, once I quit fooling around with LOTR I'm going to finish up my Sci Fi and take it to an agent. I might have better luck then. In the mean time, thank you for your encouragement! :) (Didn't you say you were going to write a Middle Earth mystery? Is it up yet? I'd love to read it. You have an awesome sense of humor!)
Aly, Amiko, Anithrarith, Analorien, Arwyn, Irena, Jade, Jocelyn, Luinturiel, Morwen, and Tynsin Nimue . . . as always, thank you. Your reviews mean so much to me! Keep 'em coming, it lets me know if I'm doing it right!
As you can see, I posted early again this week. I'll try to post on Mondays and Fridays when I can. Fridays for certain.
Happy reading! ~ Nebride
THE FAERIE GOBLET
Chapter 5 ~ "Call of the Sea"
Legolas sat on the clipped grass of Arwen's courtyard and leaned against the stone fountain that Gimli had fashioned for her. One arm lay on the rolled lip of the carved lily and he rested the side of his face against his sleeve. The other hand hung limply over the edge, fingers trailing in the cool water.
Moonlight frosted the surface of the water making it look like wrinkled glass and Arwen's bright fish occasionally lipped at his still fingers. The gentle spring breeze blew the perfume of early flowers into the courtyard, a nightingale sang from the top of one of the towers and on one of the balconies the Queen of Gondor watched with quiet compassion.
But Legolas noticed none of the beauties around him. His entire being was focused inward, on the tumultuous notes of the sea that raged within his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the call to go away.
"I do not wish to leave yet," he whispered through clenched teeth and despite the determination in his voice a tear slipped down the side of his face to splash in the water below.
Never had he felt so alone, so vulnerable. The sea longing had seized him this night with an intensity that left him drained and helpless. I wish Gimli were here, he thought miserably. The dwarf sensed his moods and always knew the best way to dispel them.
*I used to not be so dependent on others.*
The thought rankled Legolas. He'd always been solitary, more so than most of his kind. To need the presence of others felt like a loss of his independence. But there were times, like tonight, when he was caught by the sea longing so strongly he could not fight it. He stayed only because sheer stubbornness would not allow his feet to lead him to the shore; because of his love for his friends, his love of Middle Earth, and . . .
One of the fish wriggled between his fingers and he raised his head, dispelling the hopeless thoughts for a moment. He gazed down at the silvery water and the moon's reflection. Tipping his head back, he let the bright rays shine on his face.
The spring equinox, he thought as he gazed at the moon. The night between the seasons. A night when anything could happen, when the barriers of the real world and the spirit world collapsed, or so the folklore said.
A night of magic.
"Alede . . ."
He whispered the name that he'd not allowed himself to say for years. Fourteen years ago when he'd shared his song with her, he'd had no idea of the consequences . . . or the obligation of what he did. At first it had seemed a game, to decipher each other's emotions across the distances. It had been a form of communication, a way of staying connected, of staying close.
But it had worried him, as well. Alede could not block her individual notes from him. She had not the instincts for it that were natural to Elves. So he had felt everything she had felt, worried when she worried. He experienced her intense joy when he answered her song . . . and the soul deep depression she felt whenever he did not respond. In time, he came to believe that their shared connection was harmful to her. It prevented her from making any kind of life for herself, because she spent each day, each minute reaching out to him. He could satisfy her soul, but not her heart, her mind and body. The more she had longed for him and received only the insubstantial notes in return, the more depressed she had become.
Eventually, Legolas had been forced to acknowledge that his song was detrimental to her. In his desperation, he had hesitantly broached the subject with Aragorn. The King had paid a visit to Ithilien one day and after Legolas had hiked him up and down hills until even Aragorn had grown tire, they had sat companionably in front of a fire in Legolas' great hall.
As an evening rain beat upon the roof, they'd talked of their adventures together and the many struggles they had faced. After much reluctance, Legolas had said, "It must have been very difficult for Arwen to have waited so long for you under such uncertainty. Did you ever feel guilty, even though the wait was not of your choosing?"
"Always," Aragorn had replied readily. "But it was her choice to wait no matter how I tried to dissuade her. But she seemed not to suffer or even doubt as I did."
Legolas had nodded. "She is Elvish. The years pass differently for us and the wait seems not so long as it does to a mortal." He had hesitated then and Aragorn had raised a brow, sensing that his friend struggled with a question.
"Suppose . . ." Legolas had begun, "suppose Arwen had suffered because of her love for you? Suppose you had known that the wait caused her grief, even harm perhaps? What would you have done?"
"I would have tried to dissuade her, to make her see the fault of our affection."
"And if she could not have been dissuaded?"
Aragorn had wrinkled his brow in worry. "I think you had best tell me the whole story Legolas. Obviously something troubles you greatly. When I last spoke with Gimli he expressed concern for you. And indeed, I sense that you are more uneasy than I have ever known you to be."
"I am well." Legolas had dismissed Aragorn's concern and silently reminded himself to speak with Gimli. He did not want the Dwarf worrying about him. Gimli tended to fuss as it was. "I am concerned for someone . . . a woman. She . . . is in love with me."
Aragorn had raised a brow. "Congratulations. Is this such a terrible thing, my friend?"
"Yes, for I am bound to the sea whether I wish it or not. My heart does not have the strength to return her love and she suffers because of it."
"Is she one of your people here?"
Legolas had shaken his head. "Nay, she of the Istari, a wizardess and a healer. She currently resides in Rivendell."
"What is her name?"
"Alede."
Aragorn had nodded. "I have heard of her, though I never met her. Elrond considered her one of his best pupils and Elrohir spoke of her fondly. But how did you meet and how did she form such a strong attachment to you?"
Reluctantly, Legolas had told him the entire story and since Aragorn had grown up with Elvish customs, Legolas omitted nothing from his tale.
"It sounds as if . . ." Aragorn had said slowly after hearing Legolas' narrative, "she has become enslaved to your song. It is a sweet she craves and the dull tedium of everyday life no longer holds her interest."
"Exactly. Because I am not with her, she listens to my song only and forgets to live. With each day she sinks further into melancholy and I am deeply worried for her."
"If you were to travel to Rivendell . . ." Aragorn had begun.
"Then I would only fall into the same trap I laid for myself when I last saw her. When I am with her . . ." he had paused struggling for words, "I have great affection for her. But when we are apart, I begin to doubt myself. I should never have shared song with her. But I find her irresistible. She has the sweetest disposition and yet there is fire beneath her calm surface. If my circumstances were different, I might have been tempted to court her. But she does not understand my sea longing, though she tries. I . . . shared song with her, because I wished to be closer to her and because I thought it might ease her loneliness. But I did not realize how my song would affect her. If she were Elvin, she would instinctively understand and not suffer. But she knows not how to cope with our connection and I did not think to instruct her."
Aragorn had shifted in his chair and stretched his long legs out toward the fire thoughtfully.
"You must let her go, Legolas. If you are convinced that you are doing her harm, then let her go. Break your connection with her and let her go back to her old life."
Legolas had stared at the flames sadly, though his heart had told him this might be the only path. But . . . "Is there no other way? I cannot bear to hurt her so. It seems I have done nothing but hurt her since we first met."
"Yet, you did not ask for her love, Legolas. Remember that. And if what you say is true, then you are hurting her every day anyway. At least if you let her go, she would have the chance to heal. If she is in Rivendell, then she is surrounded by good people who will help her and comfort her."
Legolas had sighed shakily but not responded.
*Why must I always hurt her? I do not wish to. I have never wished to!*
"Legolas, is there a chance that she might ease your sea longing . . ."
"Oh yes," Legolas answered bitterly. "When I am with her, I can barely hear the sea. Her song and her very presence block it almost completely. But that would be a poor excuse for a relationship, would it not?" Legolas had asked, his voice heavy with regret. "How could I live with myself if I used her as a tool for my own comfort? What if my motives are entirely self-serving? The call of the sea barely lets me know my own mind at times. I would not know if it was her love I sought or a fulfillment of my own selfish needs. Alede would give me her heart no matter what my motivations. But she deserves better than that, much better."
Angrily, Legolas had slammed his fist down on the arm of the chair. "By the Valar I wish that I was free to make my own choices! I lived for centuries under my Father's rule and now when I have finally chosen my own path . . . the sea sinks its teeth into me and will not let me go!"
"Perhaps you suffer needlessly. If you were to go into the West . . ."
"No!" Legolas had said, his anger turning quickly to sadness. "I will not give up you or Gimli or my kingdom or the thousands of small things that I love about Middle Earth. When I go . . . it will be because there is nothing left." He had turned haunted eyes toward his mortal friend.
Aragorn had remained silent, only reaching over to squeeze his friend's shoulder.
The next day, Legolas had written an agonizing painful letter to Alede. He had torn it up and started over a dozen times until he was satisfied with it. He knew that his explanation would hurt her, but he had to tell her the truth, to let her know why he acted as he did. In time, he knew she would move on. Alede was a practical woman. She would forget him.
He had also written a letter to Elrohir, begging his old friend to comfort Alede. He knew that she still held great affection for Elrond's son. If that fancy were to bloom again she would forget Legolas. Elrohir's song would erase his own and she would be free to love someone who could love her in return. The Prince of Imladris was an Elf of the highest character. His merry temperament and Noldor blood made him less susceptible to the sea's siren call. He could love her as Legolas could not.
Because both letters were too large to send by way of a hawk, Legolas had entrusted them to one of his own people, an Elf who suffered from the sea longing and had long wished to pass into the West. The old warrior had promised to deliver the letters in Rivendell before his road took him to the Havens.
Alede's song had abruptly halted a few weeks later.
And because her song faded to the barest of whispers, Legolas never thought to wonder if she and Elrohir had received the letters. He just assumed that they had because of the ensuing silence.
~ ~ ~
A slight breeze tossed one of Legolas' braids across his cheek, bringing him out of his reverie. He flung it back with an irritated sweep of his hand.
Most of the time, he kept his mind so busy he had not the chance to think of her. But there were nights like this . . . when he thought he might drown in his loneliness. It had been almost fourteen years since he had heard her song.
Closing his eyes against the moonlight and giving in to his temptation, Legolas reached out with his heart. He knew she would probably be asleep at this late hour and he could slip into her dreams unnoticed. But as he touched her soul across the many miles, he felt that she was awake. Not only awake, but reaching out to him as well.
Surprise made him incautious. He felt her flicker of astonishment at his touch and then overwhelming hurt and confusion. He realized that she'd never given up on him, never forgot him. It was much too late to back away from her. Their connection was strong tonight and he could not walk away from her pain. Concentrating, he focused his emotions, trying to make his thoughts into meaning. He felt Alede reaching out as well. She was trying to make sense of his feelings.
Above him, he heard the thin wail of Gondor's young prince. Ignoring the baby's cries, Legolas focused on the far away connection and . . .
Arwen's scream completely broke his link to Alede. Surging upright beside the fountain, he looked up at the royal balcony. He saw nothing, but heard the sounds of a scuffle and another scream from the Queen. She sounded beyond terror.
Sprinting across the courtyard, Legolas jumped lithely and caught the edge of the stone balcony and hauled himself up over the rail. He plunged into the darkness of Arwen's chambers.
"Legolas!"
Arwen stood near the back of the room, a poker from the fireplace held defensively in her hands. A crooked dark figure hunched in the corner, spitting and hissing at her. Arwen's baby was clutched in the creature's arms. Legolas leaped at it. He had no weapon other than the small knife he carried in his belt for meat. But he lunged forward anyway, headless of the creature's claws and teeth. Confusion broke out as the baby screamed his protests and Legolas tried desperately not to injure the small prince and stab the creature instead.
Light from the hallway almost blinded Legolas as Eowyn burst into the room, carrying a lantern. It illuminated the hideous, dark form, revealing twisted hairy limbs and a snarling face.
"Legolas!" Eowyn cried.
He turned as she held up a sword. The creature seeing his distraction, tried to duck around Arwen. But Legolas caught the deadly steal that Eowyn tossed him and thrust it into the creature's neck.
It stumbled forward with an ear splitting shriek, dumping the baby onto the floor. Arwen tossed the poker aside and caught up the prince, backing away from the twitching beast.
Eowyn cautiously walked over with her light and they all watched the creature's death throes.
"What is it?" Arwen asked in horror.
"It is much too small for an Orc," Legolas replied, "and its features are wrong."
The creature shuddered and rolled over on its back. It opened its mouth, snarling unintelligibly. As they watched, its shape writhed and changed, lengthening and straightening.
All of them gasped as the gnarled hide fell away and smoothed into the tanned skin of a man. Blue eyes gazed up at them for a moment and the mouth opened.
"Don't . . ." the man croaked reaching out a hand toward his fallen pack. But then his eyes glazed over, his arm fell to the side and he died.
Arwen gave a shudder of disgust.
"Is the baby alright?" Eowyn asked worriedly.
"Yes," Arwen answered holding the tiny prince close to her heart. "He is unhurt, just terrified, like me."
Legolas looked around the room. In the crib lay a small bundle of hay wrapped in cloth resembling the shape of a child. He bent down and picked up the pack that the creature/man had dropped. Untying it, he cautiously drew out a delicate goblet. For a moment the goblet glowed with its own light and the strange markings around its side glimmered like starlight. But then the goblet faded and it looked like plain silver.
Legolas straightened up, the goblet in his hand. Eowyn held the light closer to the body.
"It . . . he almost looked like the tales of Hobgoblins that my grandfather used to tell. But I thought those were just stories for children." She turned worried blue eyes to Legolas. "What does all of this mean?"
Legolas looked down at the dead man and then back up at Arwen, holding her now quiet baby. He shook his head slowly.
"I do not know."
~ ~ ~
A/N: Hmm. a strange creature, a glowing goblet. sounds like Legolas needs the advice of a wizard, doesn't it? ;) Find out what Alede is doing in chapter 6 "A Much Needed Lesson".
TK - I saw your note about changing the rating and wish I could. I think I'd better leave this one at "R" though. Some of the later chapters might need that rating. Those of us who are adults will probably think "R" is a bit too strong. But I'd hate to get a letter from some irate 14 year old's mother. I probably don't need to be this cautious, but . . . *I'm rolling my eyes here.* By the way, thank you for your continued support. I always look forward to your reviews! :)
Evil Old Woman - Thank you so much for your kind words!! Actually, I am published in some very unimportant writers journals. And I have enough rejection slips from publishers to wallpaper a room. I'm thinking of putting them in my bathroom and putting them to good use. LOL! Seriously though, once I quit fooling around with LOTR I'm going to finish up my Sci Fi and take it to an agent. I might have better luck then. In the mean time, thank you for your encouragement! :) (Didn't you say you were going to write a Middle Earth mystery? Is it up yet? I'd love to read it. You have an awesome sense of humor!)
Aly, Amiko, Anithrarith, Analorien, Arwyn, Irena, Jade, Jocelyn, Luinturiel, Morwen, and Tynsin Nimue . . . as always, thank you. Your reviews mean so much to me! Keep 'em coming, it lets me know if I'm doing it right!
As you can see, I posted early again this week. I'll try to post on Mondays and Fridays when I can. Fridays for certain.
Happy reading! ~ Nebride