(A/N: Not a romantic chapter. Sonnet is a cool word. I need no other reason. Lyrics to ponder are Let Me Go by Good Charlotte.)
Chapter Thirty-Two: Sonnet
Sword-fights were a common spectacle in King Felair's many courtyards. These were wide open areas, sometimes with sanded stone floors, sometimes just fresh, green grass. Occasionally, one would run across an older courtyard, weathered with age, that still managed to look prestigious and royal. In any case, they were a good practice place for guards, and good places to relax, depending on an elf's skill level. Normally, the fights were just for show, but siblings often have to add their own spice to their duels.
CLANG!
"Fencing," muttered Eli, massaging his temples. "Always with the fencing…"
The Prince of the East ignored Eli and focused on his battle. "Something wrong, dear sister?"
Elorelei gritted her teeth at her brother and stopped his oncoming blow with her sword. "Not at all," She replied, noticing Eli wince as their two weapons crashed together. "Why would something be wrong?"
"Oh nothing," He muttered casually, stepping in to attempt a flesh wound, but getting sidestepped, and turning just fast enough to avoid her backlash. "You just seem more... lax in your fighting today." Elorelei's smirk coaxed him onward. "Yesterday I couldn't touch you with the sword and now-" He block and swung the sword to slightly nick her wrist. "Well, I believe that speaks for itself."
Elorelei shrugged it off, having barely felt it. "Maybe you're getting better." She was quite impressed with his skills when she returned. She'd always pegged him as a swordsman...
"Or maybe you're just a little distracted. Could it be Leg- OW!"
Elorelei smiled, having given him a swift, but soft jab in the stomach, loosening his grip on a sword, and seizing it in the same moment. "Ah-ah-ah..." She scolded, wagging her finger in a motherly manner. "Don't tease your sister. She knows how to kill you six different ways using the blunt end of a fighting cane."
Filior looked wounded but stood up. "Since when did you fight with fighting canes?"
"I don't. I was bluffing."
"Another one of your more despicable talents," said a new voice from behind Elorelei; it was icy, bitter. The trees that towered over the walls of the courtyard began to sway as the weather shifted from calm and warm to a slightly crisper, breezy day.
Eli looked up, surprised. Filior narrowed his eyes. Elorelei made an unimpressed noise. "And you would know all about that, wouldn't you, Niqueran?" She turned around and faced her old "friend." Her brother barely caught it, but he saw something click. Something... very not good. Something that was definitely not in his sister's nature... Then again, she did keep secrets well... even from him.
The other she-elf looked with disdain upon the warrioress. She toned this expression down as she caught sight of the sword.
"So, Niqi, you finally wormed your way into a Royal Court. Who knew that in ogling every male in Economics, you might actually learn something."
"Funny," said Niqueran in a voice that plainly read she did not think it was funny at all.
"Do tell me what simpering Queen appointed you her representative."
This brought a smile curling around the court member's face. "Queen Minele."
Elorelei face turned from arrogant defiance to stormy hatred. "What?"
"Your little mother dear hired me. As a personal assistant."
A pause came. There was always a pause. Elorelei was still stinging and bitter from her last encounter with "The Queen." Then Eli watched in a mild surprise as Elorelei... well, lost her temper. She went red in the face, her eyes opening wide with rage. She threw the sword to the side, and her fingers curled. The healer remained, somehow, in a state of pleasant shock as Elorelei's fingernails elongated to become black, curved talons.
"CONFOD-"
"That's enough!" Vandelar crossed the courtyard as quickly as he could and stood in between Elorelei and Niqueran. "Laika, you must calm down... You remember the last time..." His voice lowered and the rest of the conversation went unheard.
"I'm calm, Vandelar, really." Elorelei feigned her peace as her eyes swept over where Niqueran's heart was located. One speck of blood... one speck and she would be content... nothing.
Which most likely explained why Vandelar remained VERY VERY not convinced. "Come, walk with me, I have matters which require your attention."
As he steered her away, she gave one last look at the scene she left behind her. Niqueran, frozen in fear, Filior oddly curious, and Eli still in a state of calm wonderment. The shell-shocked she-elf placed a hand over her chest as if something had stabbed her. Elorelei exited with a smile.
*~*~*~*
The elf waited out in the hall with a sulking expression that was a little strange on her.
"Come now, you can't keep me out here!" She complained to a door that was just not listening. "I'm too old to be punished."
Vandelar came out of the door looking very paternal, as if Elorelei were his responsibility. She was, but she didn't know it, of course, or she would have his head. He and Andulin had kept the whole thing hushed up so she'd never catch on.
"I thought you left those curses in the valley, Laika."
"I was extremely susceptible to provocation at the time, Vandelar, you must understand. I did not mean for that to happen."
The elf stopped looking her in the eye almost at once. His powder blue eyes slid away from her piercing stare. "Do you remember the last time you used those curses?"
She only affixed her eyes to him harder. "That was long ago."
"I saw the same look in your eyes as you had then..."
"I had it under control."
"Yes, but not for long. Eli and Filior didn't know what you were about to do. Had I not been there..." He paused to banish the image that crossed his mind. "If your resolve is weakening-"
"WEAKENING?" Elorelei shouted, very poorly hiding the fact that she was outraged.
"I am merely suggesting-" Vandelar stopped immediately and bowed in the direction of the courtyard he had dragged Elorelei from. "Prince Legolas."
There was no cough, no loud word, clearing of the throat to announce a third presence. The argument just ceased to continue as Legolas walked in, looking oddly determinedabout ... something.
"Leave us." He told Vandelar, in an outright command. Vandelar left before he knew what he was doing and Elorelei looked shocked. Then she smiled.
"Had to happen soon. I knew you couldn't keep that spoiled prince locked up forever."
Legolas smiled slightly teasingly. "Do you wish to bask in your un-ending knowledge of me, or would you like to hear what I have to say?"
"Bask," She replied, and let a dulled smile come over her face, as if she were resting in rays of sun.
Legolas smiled contentedly at her. He could't bear the thought that... but in all good lives, there are respites of unhappiness.
"Legolas?" called Lumaeus, striding towards the Prince with an assured grace. He had a confidence in his step of one who had lived through more troubles and beared more storms than any other elf still left in the Valley. "How are you, young Prince?"
"Lord Lumaeus," smiled Legolas, bowing low. The father of a king was still a high rank, even if you were the one currently in a relationship with the granddaughter. "Tell me, why do you always call me young? I'm getting on in my years, now, you know..."
"Ah, young ones always think they know what old is," said the former King, with that annoying voice that older folk use when they know something you don't. "Do you even know how old I am?"
It was a well known fact that there was no one Lumaeus' age who hadn't crossed the Western Sea by now. "No, actually."
"Good. I'd doubt you'd believe me if I told you..."
While she was still basking, the Prince reached out, taking both her hands. He didn't know why, but he had to be touching her while the happened. It was stupid, really. Stupid, but somehow necessary. Otherwise, he wouldn't get past the first sentence. She stopped "basking" and looked at him. Straight at him as always, she didn't like avoiding his eyes without a good reason.
"Elorelei, I talked with your grandfather this afternoon..."
"The Conversion is in very few weeks, Legolas."
He shifted his gaze, suddenly deciding that a small bug, fuzzy and with several legs, was much more interesting to focus on. "I know," He replied, conveniently forgetting that in a civilized conversation, eye contact was required.
"Maintain eye contact, Legolas, it's much less degrading for you that way."
"Forgive me, your highness, may we talk about this some other time?"
Lumaeus looked both bemused and stern. When a former king brought up a subject of importance, by default, it could NOT be discussed ay other time unless said so. Legolas knew also not to look away in such a discussion, as it was considered disrespectful. The subject just repulsed him so that-
"Certainly not. Now, I'm afraid, I must insist."
"Insist on what?"
Legolas wasn't sure, but he thought Lumaeus paused then just for the effect.
"Your parents are wondering why you've been here for so long. They are needing your assistance at home, it appears."
The Prince flushed. He had written to them, once or twice, explaining his situation... just not clearly.
"The ceremony for Conversion is soon..."
Elorelei looked confused. "Yes, that's true..."
"My parents... they want me home before then... There is a troupe in Northern lands that I am to join... They head off the day before the Conversion and… I don't want to, but it's very important." He waited, dreading her reaction. Waiting for someone to lash out at you in anger was not a pleasant thing.
The she-elf tilted her head to one side, and responded simply, "Say no."
Legolas froze, then straightened up, cleared his throat, and looked politely shocked. "Hmm?"
"Say no," She repeated. "What's the worse they can do?"
"Judging by the... loose terms they used describing my granddaughter," The elder's eyes flashed dangerously. "I should hope that they have not learned of your relationship with her."
That, thank goodness, was true. They didn't know, and if Legolas continued to have things his way, they wouldn't know for a long while.
To answer Elorelei's question, there wasn't much they COULD do. Cast him out? The East would welcome him with open arms. Disinherit him? The South had told him often that he would always have a high place in their court. Hold him in the castle? Elorelei had more than eleven skilled elves and the North would soon be in her debt after the conversion... No fortress could keep them out.
"I... I can't..."
Her smile faded. Remembering her long black talons she had almost used on Niqueran, they appeared to have sunk themselves into her own body.
Again, the desire to be stupid and ask foolish questions resurfaced like a black bubble of self-doubt. "Why? Don't you love me?" She wanted to ask, but that was a question to which she already had an answer.
The Prince wanted to say yes; he wanted to stay here with her until the last moment and he wanted to be here when she got back. He wanted a lot of things he couldn't have and was currently counting them in his head, searching for something he could hold on to.
"I can't, Elorelei. And I wish more than anything that I could make you understand… Do you remember when I asked to come with you when you first left and you wouldn't let me? It was something you had to do on your own. This is what I must do."
Elorelei smiled, not reassuringly but with acceptance, and looked up at Legolas with a somewhat hopeless but understanding expression on her face.
"I can't leave her again, Lumaeus. I can't not be here, when..."
The ancient elf gave Legolas a very long look.
"There's a reason we live forever, Legolas… No doubt, you two have had many difficult separations and moments where even the prospect of forever wasn't enough. Still it left you wondering if you two would see, or remember each other. Why make this one parting, brief as a flicker of flame compared to all the times you two have been separated thus far, harder that it has to be? She'll be back. You'll be back. You'll both be back. There's nothing keeping you apart except that fact that you both have duties to fulfill. Warriors always do."
"Yes," said Legolas solemnly. "Warriors."
(A/N: Yeah, I know. Boooorrrrring. Motivational speech number 666. Angsty part number 9999. When will the suffering END?
Censors: Oh, shut up. You're overreacting.
Author: Bugger off.
Censors: British swear word!! British swear word!
Author: Bullocks to you.
Censors: Another! Another!
Author……… Let's move on. "Limitations" (#33) is a cooler chapter, honest. I get to write more freaky shape shifting, and it's the breaking point. A little late in the story, but there you are. After that, we may have only one more chapter to go before this is over. Two, if I'm unlucky and Inspiration decides to be more of an evil crackwhore than usual. If it's not, guess you'll have to wait until the second installment. *beams* It'll be great fun!! Oh, did you know I have THE cutest dog on this earth? I do, really. He is so absolutely adorable. He is the pinnacle of adorability. He has the awww-ness level of a HOBBIT! But he whines too much. *sigh* Old people.. er, old dogs.)