A/N – I am sorry this has taken so long to post. To make a long story short – I have to be motivated to write, and sometimes that just takes a while. I am sorry for those of you who follow along, because I know how awful it is to wait for the follow-up to a good story (right now I am almost prepared to search out J. K. Rowling and tie her to her computer, typewriter, or notepad until she finishes Book 5 – not that I even consider myself worthy enough to even kiss her feet). So, I will do my best to update as much as possible. Having said that, for those of you who truly enjoy this fic you should search out author PuterPatty and thank her. She has on more than one occasion kept me going when I had all but given up.
I would also like to thank Kallie, Mara, Linteia, and Legoals – who are VERY persuasive in their reviews. Linteia is a gentle encourager; however, Legoals is much more – fierce.
Now for the last chapter's reviews: PuterPatty first of all I only wish I knew if Legolas inherited his parents' sex drive, but as for my very fertile imagination . . . . Secondly, you mentioned the part about how the healing felt for Legolas. If you've ever had Reiki performed on you, that is the sensation I was going for. If you have not ever had Reiki done – I highly recommend it! As for your suspicions about where my story is headed – I ain't talkin'! ;-)
Kallie, I don't think Annalome wants her powers to go away, but I think she always felt somewhat removed from the humans around her because of them. I like to think it is a commonality between her and Legolas. I think Legolas suffers from being the youngest elf. He is still in love with Middle-earth and all its wonders while the majority of the elves are falling to the longing for Arda. Neither feels at one with their kin, and so I hope this will bring them closer to one another. As for how she was regarded by her kin for 800 years? Well, these were men of Numenor, and so many lived for 400 years. At first she would likely seem little different from them. But as the years increased the distrust and dis-ease would have also increased until fear took them and they drove her out.
Muse of Lucius, I don't know when I'll get back to the LotR/HP crossover fic, but you'll be the first to know.
And finally, Mara. A Mary-sue is a female character inserted into the world of Middle-earth(or any other known fiction) whose sole purpose is to be besotted with some male character in the story. Generally the plotlines surrounding Mary-sues are highly contrived, bordering on ridiculous, and the male character in question is generally so out of character as to be recognizable only by the name. Hope this helps.
OK, without further ado . . .
Chapter Eight
The Children of Ungoliant
The youngest prince of Greenwood the Great rose slowly from the ground, eyes searching the nearby trees. Once again malice and hatred poured forth from the unseen watcher. Midnight lay under the eaves of the trees and even the eyes of the Firstborn could not penetrate the inky darkness. Legolas walked slowly toward the spot where Teiglin stood keeping watch, never taking his eyes from the place where he felt the cold stare. Nothing stirred within the trees.
As he came to stand next to Teiglin the other elf whispered, "I feel it as well, my prince. It is a wonder the whole camp has not been alerted to the presence. Its gaze freezes the blood."
Legolas nodded, "It is the same presence I felt as I watched from the top of the oak." He sensed that Curuwen had come to join them even as the elf came to stand beside him. "The feelings it has for our party are quite clear, but I cannot say what its intentions are. We will not seek this presence out under the shadow of night. Like all creatures of evil it will thrive in this darkness. We will wait and keep watch. When the light of day has graced us once again we will look for it."
"Should we wake the others, Prince Legolas?" Curuwen asked.
Legolas shook his head, "Nay. Let the others gather their rest while they may, we know not what lies ahead."
"Then you should as well, your highness," Teiglin spoke. His sister's son had ever been watchful of the young prince, and often pushed aside the propriety due to one of Thranduil's sons when he felt Legolas put himself or his health in danger.
Gray eyes met blue eyes and a momentary war of wills took place between the two elves. Curuwen shifted slightly as the uncomfortable silence lingered. Finally Legolas sighed, "I will take my rest, my nephew, but you are to wake me if there is even the smallest change." Legolas held Teiglin's gaze in his own until the other elf nodded his agreement. He then turned to the Curuwen, "I expect the same of you." Bowing low before her prince Curuwen then turned and quickly made her way back to her position on the east side of the camp. Legolas noted that she seemed relieved to be away from the both of them.
Turning once more Legolas nodded to Teiglin and then made his way to the fire, which still blazed furiously. Passing close to the sleeping forms of Tauron and Ainaelin, he could see the two elves were awake and alert. Kneeling beside them he whispered, "We have all sensed the presence, whatever it may be. Teiglin and Curuwen keep a vigilant watch. Rest now."
The two elves nodded and whispered, "Yes, my prince." Leaving them, Legolas slipped around to the other side of the fire, where Teiglin's eyes could not seek him out. Annalome lay beneath her cloak, eyes closed in the manner of the Secondborn. He watched her chest rising and falling slowly. The woman clearly was in a deep, comfortable sleep and not aware of the evil stare that the elves all sensed. The prince envied her. Still feeling the hostile gaze coming from beneath the nearby trees Legolas lay down and stared into the flames of their large campfire.
He tried to quiet his mind and enter the world of elven dreams. Dreams are what men called them, but in truth they were more reality than what the Secondborn experienced while asleep. In dreams the elves wandered green meadows, heard the sounds of the river as it tumbled over unseen rocks, felt the cool breeze upon their faces, and smelled the sweet fragrance of flowers in bloom. It was the world as Illuvatar had meant for it to be. It was what the world could have been if the song had not been ruined by Morgoth. Perfection and never ending beauty awaited the elves in dreams, but Legolas could not find its refuge.
The cold, cruel stare kept the world of dreams at bay. The prince turned away from the fire to look toward the source of that stare, but could see nothing. Curuwen's back was to him, also looking in the direction of the evil presence. She sat rigidly, one hand resting on the pommel of the sword belted at her side. Legolas realized that he also held the handle of his longknife in his right hand.
No matter how hard he tried Legolas could not find the solace of sleep. He was debating whether to join Tauron and Ainaelin when they took the watch when he felt the hand upon his face. The hand was cool, and smooth except for the first two fingers, which grated roughly, but gently across his forehead. Annalome whispered above him, "Sleep."
At his feet lay water as though of liquid silver, and it lapped gently against the emerald green shore. Behind him a large willow tree rose, its vast branches flung out overhead to trail down around him. Willows, the same silver as the lake, dotted the branches and he touched them as if to assure himself that they were real. Across the lake on the opposite shore were hundreds of trees. Some were willows, much like the one under which he stood, but there were also oaks and elms and many others which he could not identify. The trees reached so high into the heavens that they shadowed the entire lake with their branches. What little he could see of the sky gleamed a faint golden hue, and though he could not see it he knew that the sun was near to going to its nightly rest.
A cool breeze blew on his face and he closed his eyes allowing its feathery fingers to softly caress him. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers and of the earth itself. Turning around he looked at the shore upon which he was standing. So vast was the great willow tree behind him that he could see little else. Moving underneath the canopy of the tree's branches he felt safe and secure. A faint drowsiness crept over him as he moved further under its protective branches. Briefly he became alarmed. Somewhere within him a memory stirred of a story – a story where several Periannath had come under the spell of a willow tree and nearly lost their lives to it. But the concern was short-lived. Here there was only peace and beauty. Here there was no fear.
Soon he found himself on the other side of the great willow, climbing the gently rising land. More and more trees surrounded him. Some with great swaths of tiny white flowers at their feet, others with large stalks of tiny silver bells. He entered the small clearing before he even realized that it was there. Here, the trees parted briefly, allowing sunlight to fall on the small meadow. His eyes widened at the sight of a woman asleep in the center of the glade.
Quickly he crossed the glade to where the woman lay. Where she had taken her rest the earth seemed to have grown up around her as if cradling her body. Flowers of every hue grew around her sleeping form, and the air here was heady with their scent. She wore a long dress of gray silk, which seemed to shimmer in the fading sunlight. Her hair was also of a gray hue but shone with such radiance that it was reminiscent of the ore mithril. Her chest rose and fell in the slow rhythm of deep sleep. So lovely she appeared that he reached out his hand to touch her ivory cheek.
"It is not her time to wake, Legolas."
Startled by the voice, the elf spun around to see who had been able to approach him undetected. There at the edge of the glade stood a tall man dressed in radiant silver. Tunic, leggings, and especially the long cape he wore seemed wrought of mithril, but moved with the grace of finely woven silk. He came toward Legolas, and as he approached, the elf noticed that his eyes shone with the same silver color as his cloak. All this contrasted greatly with his flame red hair, which hung nearly to his waist. The man wore a puzzled expression on his face, "You should not be here."
Legolas stared in wonder at the man. Though physical beauty to rival the Firstborn was rare, this man's features were near perfection. "I do not know where I am, nor how I came to be in this place."
The man's eyes narrowed slightly as if contemplating something, "Do you not?" He then nodded as if the answer had become apparent, "Then this may explain much."
"What does my ignorance of this place explain?"
The man shook his head, "Why you are here. But of course you would not understand nor should you." The man had moved toward the sleeping woman as he spoke and now lay a single hand upon her forehead. Gazing toward the ever darkening sky he whispered something to her that even Legolas's elven ears could not detect.
"Why does she sleep?" Legolas asked.
"The fruit of Laurelin drains her of strength. She will awaken when Telperion's seed has taken to the sky."
A memory stirred within Legolas, "Who are you?"
A warm smile spread across the man's face and he laughed heartily, "Do you not yet know, Legolas? You have guessed I believe, but do not trust your intuition. It matters little, however. As I have said before, you do not belong here, though I do not believe you came here of your own will. It has been many years since the Firstborn were able to travel their dreams to Aman, but the ability is still there if you knew how to use it. You were guided here."
"By Annalome," Legolas said. It was a statement of fact.
"Yes," the man seemed sad for a moment, but the emotion was fleeting as grace and serenity returned quickly to his silver eyes. "I believe so. Though I also believe that it was unintentional on her part. She must have felt you were in need of healing or rest."
"Yes, I am certain she intended for me to rest."
The man smiled again, "She will always seek to aid you in whatever way she can."
"Why?"
"Because it is her birthright." Noticing the confusion on Legolas's face the man raised his hand to forestall the question, "I will tell you no more, Legolas Greenleaf. Too much has been said here already. It is time for you to return to Ennor."
Legolas opened his mouth to protest, but the man was swiftly upon him. He grasped the elf firmly about the waist and laying a single hand on his forehead he spoke softly, "Sleep."
Annalome stared down at the sleeping form of Legolas with great concern written on her face. He seemed unharmed, and yet his eyes were closed, and she had been unsuccessful at waking him. Ainaelin and Tauron had woken her for her shift on watch, but both had been greatly concerned that their prince could not be wakened. She promised she would see to him, and bid them both return to their guard. That had been many minutes ago, and both elves now glanced in her direction with worry written on their faces.
She recalled many instances where she had found it necessary to awaken her son, and often her husband, after a night of revelry. Consumption of large amounts of elven wine placed most men in a deep sleep, and the royal line of Numenor was no different. Often it took extreme measures to revive Tarcil and her son, Tarondor. She smiled to herself in remembering how much she had relished waking them in such a manner. Her smile widened at the thought of doing the same to the elf-prince.
She grasped the water skin from her belongings; the water inside was very cold from sitting in the chilly night air. She removed the cork and turned it upside down over the prince's golden head. She was rewarded as Legolas sat straight up spluttering and coughing. She could not help the slight smile that spread across her face, "I am sorry, Legolas, but I was unable to wake you."
Piercing blue eyes met hers, and for a moment she detected extreme irritation in them, but the emotion softened quickly into confusion. "I have no memory of the last hours." The firstborn never truly reached unconsciousness. They traveled the land of elven dreams clearly recalling every detail when they woke, as if it had been a continuation of their day. Time was never ending for the Firstborn. Legolas's loss of consciousness concerned Annalome greatly.
"Your eyes were closed, Legolas, and all my earlier attempts to wake you were unsuccessful. I have seen this only in those of your race who are very sick or badly wounded. Yet, I searched for any sign of illness within you and found nothing except a sense of calm and tranquility."
"Truly, I feel greatly rested, and much of the concern I felt is gone." The prince hesitated, a rare look of confusion upon his face. "I remember nothing."
Annalome smiled at him in reassurance, "Whatever befell you, Legolas, seems only to have effects of good. Therefore, I cannot believe its intent was evil." Legolas stared back at her but nodded in agreement.
He had just opened his mouth to speak when Ainaelin yelled suddenly from her post. "My Prince, there are many glittering eyes in the forest! See, there!"
Legolas sprang to his feet, elven eyes searching the inky darkness of the nearby trees. Annalome rose next to him. A sharp hiss from the elf told Annalome that he too could see the eyes. Annalome's eyes strained into the darkness, but all that she could see was midnight.
"Awake, warriors! Our foe is upon us!" Legolas shouted to the others unnecessarily. Curuwen and Teiglin had already risen. An arrow was fitted to the string of Curuwen's bow and Teiglin's sword was at the ready. Legolas also held an arrow at the ready. Somewhat more slowly Annalome retrieved her bow and quiver that lay nearby. Somewhere within the trees she could hear the faintest scratching, as if small animals were scurrying in the surrounding trees. "To the fire! We will stand with our backs to the fire!"
Quickly the elves and Annalome moved to the fire and formed a circle around it. The sounds were coming from every direction now. Their enemy had surrounded them. From the corner of her eye, Annalome caught movement at the edge of the fire's light. Turning she had to stop herself from crying out in fear. A spider, the size of a hare, was scurrying toward their small company. Before she could even pull an arrow from her quiver she heard the thrum of Ainaelin's bow as she loosed an arrow at the creature. The force of the arrow knocked the creature onto its back, the eight legs thrashing in its death throes.
From all directions now, the creatures came towards them, some smaller than the one Ainaelin had killed first and some considerably larger. Annalome swallowed hard, fighting the scream that threatened to work its way out of her lungs. In all her long years she had mastered many fears, but even the smallest of spiders made her shiver. Grimly, her mind set itself to slaying the hideous creatures. She was not as fast as the elves of Greenwood the Great, but her accuracy was no less deadly. Arrow after arrow flew from her bow, and the pile of hideous, hairy bodies grew.
Dimly she was aware of Legolas on her right and Ainaelin on her left drawing their knives. Only then, did she realize that the spiders were too many to fend off with arrows alone. Her quiver would soon be spent. She would have need to defend herself with another weapon, and her longknife lay near her saddlebags some ten feet away. Her stomach lurched at the thought, the taste of bile rising in the back of her throat.
Legolas had moved forward to meet the creatures, giving Annalome time to empty her quiver. His knife blades flashed in the light of the stars rending leg or head from body or else piercing the foul flesh to the hilt then flinging the dying creature back into the shadows of the trees. Annalome pulled her last arrow and aimed it for a spider not ten feet from where she stood.
Before the arrow had even found its mark, she had thrown her bow aside and darted toward the knife. As if sensing their prey's vulnerability several of the spiders moved in her direction. The nearest of them would be upon her even as she reached her knife. In the last instant she dove towards the weapon. Her hand wrapped around the hilt, and she tucked one shoulder under to roll to the side, all the while pulling the knife to her, grasping the sheath and pulling the blade free. As she came over onto her back she felt more than saw the evil creature hop to land directly on top of her. Even as she raised the knife she knew it would not be in time if the creature was prepared to sting her immediately. Her mouth opened in a silent scream. But before it landed the creature was suddenly flung away from her, a small dagger sheathed in its side. Without waiting Annalome jumped to her feet and dashed back towards the fire. Spinning on her heel as she ran she took stock of their enemies' numbers.
The earth seemed to bubble near the trees with the hoard of spiders making their way towards them. Nearer at hand three smaller creatures were making their way toward her. Thanking the Valar for the stout boots made for her by the cobblers of Gondor she kicked at the first creature sending it flying backwards. Immediately she stooped to the ground and slashed a large gash in the next two, who were approaching side-by-side.
For what seemed an eternity she continued in this manner: cutting her foes to ribbons when possible and kicking away the ones she could not reach in time. But the spiders kept coming, and Annalome knew she would soon be overwhelmed. As the minutes stretched on into eternity she became aware of someone calling her name. Turning she realized it was Legolas. As soon as he realized he had caught her eye he tossed a knife toward her. Startled by the flying object she barely reacted in time to catch it. And even as the haft met her hand, she saw Legolas cry out and grasp his leg.
A helpless rage welled up from within, and Annalome began hacking and stabbing her way toward the elf-prince. Blind fury melted away the last remnants of fear, and the spiders fell quickly under her two blades. Legolas had dropped one of his knives and seemed to be cradling an arm to his chest. He appeared unsteady, and was barely keeping the monsters at bay. Even as she reached his side he slid to the ground and would have been immediately overwhelmed if Annalome had not been there. But in the deepest, darkest recesses of her mind she knew it would not be enough. The spiders were too many, and without the elf-prince she would soon be inundated.
As the reality began to take its cruel toll on her she became aware that Legolas, still lying on his side, was wielding a large, flaming branch taken from their fire. Either the light or the heat was disagreeable to them, for they cowered before the flames. Without hesitation Annalome yelled for the others to hear, "They fear fire! We can use it to keep them at bay!"
Annalome retreated backwards slowly until the heat of their small bonfire burned the backs of her legs mercilessly. All but the largest of the spiders would not follow her, and these she was able to fend off while she found another fiery bough. Holding the limb out before her the creatures retreated away from its fiery end. Quickly she began pulling other branches from the fire and soon had surrounded herself and Legolas within a ring of fire. The spiders backed away from the flames, but they did not leave. Their glittering eyes watched and waited for another opportunity to attack.
The heat from the fire was harsh and unyielding, but Annalome was grateful for whatever foresight had made Legolas request such a large fire and for his serendipitous discovery of the creatures' fear of it. She dropped to her knees and turned to look at the elf-prince. His face was covered in a sheen of sweat that Annalome did not think was entirely from the heat, and he seemed to be shaking with cold. A small moan escaped his lips and the arm he had been cradling fell limply to his side. His eyes were open, staring at her, but he made no attempt to speak.
Without hesitation she pulled him as far from the bonfire as she could, and took his left arm to examine it. The hand was already turning a faintly grayish cast, as one who has spent too much time in cold water. She could see nothing wrong with the arm however; except for a small hole in the fabric of his coat just below his elbow. With some effort she lifted him up to a sitting position, and cradling his body against hers she was able to remove the coat from his left arm. Gently she lay him back down, but Legolas moaned softly as she did and his eyes rolled backwards, then closed.
Quickly she pulled his shirtsleeve up above his elbow to reveal a large black welt, the size of an apple, on the inside of his forearm. Without hesitation she placed her hands over the wound and attempted to heal the spider's sting. Even as the peace of healing took over her senses, she could feel the venom as she pulled it from the elf's wound. It seemed almost to flow into her veins, sickening her, and threatening to rip her away from the strict concentration she required to heal the youngest prince of Greenwood the Great. Shadows formed at the edges of her mind, menacing and full of evil. The shadows beckoned to her, tempting her with sweet release and forgetfulness, but fear and need drove her on even to the point of exhaustion. She felt her body swaying where she knelt and the shadows grew, pulling at her all the more urgently. Her strength was nearly gone, but she refused to succumb. Clawing and grasping she tried to pull herself from the darkness. But the darkness was too strong. The shadows grew until all that remained was darkness.
Ungoliant – a giant spider who destroyed the great trees of Valinor. She was likely the ancestor of Shelob as well as the giant spider's of Mirkwood.
Illuvatar – God. Illuvatar's song was sung by the Valar in order to create the world.
Morgoth – evil predecessor to Sauron. Much more evil. He has since been cast out of the world.
Periannath – elv. Hobbits
Fruit of Laurelin – Laurelin was one of the great trees of Valinor. The last fruit it bore became the Sun.
Telperion's Seed – Telperion was the other of the great trees of Valinor. The last fruit it bore became the moon.
Ennor – elv. Middle-earth