Meeting in the Woods
Chapter Twelve
The Gypsy Queen
Posting this before I can answer many of your reviews. I hope you enjoy this chapter-I think it's third to last including the epilogue. I really got in to writing this one, so it's pretty long…Hope that doesn't cause too many issues!
I just wanted to put a note here about Sam. Isn't Sam great? I mean, he's a cutie, he's a sweetie, and he's totally dedicated to Frodo. He didn't even get pissed off after Frodo fell for the two-billionth time or anything. Plus, he's a cook, and he likes to garden stuff. Wouldn't he be the absolutely perfect husband? I mean, he doesn't quite look like Legly, but who does? LOL Yay Sam!
ILUVORLY: Tee-hee! Sorry about all the torture, I guess it's just in me to do that to our poor little elf. I'm glad you like the story! As for your questions: ROFL stands for Roll On Floor Laughing, like LOL but more so. LMAO is Laugh My Arse Off, in case that ever comes up =^^=. A Mary-Sue is a perfect character-for example, a beautiful tall D-Cup blonde girl with the best grades in school and a dark, mysterious past. Sort of like Legolas minus the D-Cup and female bits. I THINK! I'm not completely certain on Mary-Sue's myself LOL
Tesekian: I hope I got this chapter up quickly enough LOL I'm glad you're enjoying it…And thanks for your opinion about the sequel! Enjoy!
Celestra: ROFL Thanks so much for your review! I'm sorry about Legly being all insensitive and stuff *sighs* Hope this chapter's up quickly enough for you! (and Legly XD) As for the action figure, my Dad gave it to me for Christmas-I'll ask him, and get back to you =) (It comes with arrows! And a workable bow! *giggles and goes off to play with it*)
December-Dream: LOL Glad you like the story! And for the Legolas torture thing…I know, hey? I mean, how did I ever get by having fun by just continually watching the movie, when I could be curled up by my computer making him all sweaty and writhing? I mean…I'm an innocent girl. XD Enjoy!
Bobo: LOL Not the story…Just my *word choice*…I guess I should've looked into it more before I just used one of the definitions? Bah. XD I wouldn't faint if I saw Legly, I would grab onto his leg until he called his lawyer for a TRO (erm, temporary restraining order for all you non-CSI obsessed)…Tee-hee! Thanks for your review! Enjoy this chapter!
Enjoy =^^=
***
Legolas had traveled quickly, the paths leading around the forest he had just left surprisingly familiar in his once muddled mind. He was determined to get to the safest place he knew nearby; Rivendell, a stronghold for the elves.
How long had it been since he had last laid eyes on one of the quessir? He had lingered for too long with men, untrustworthy, greedy, piggish men with grabbing fingers on calloused hands. Men with greasy hair and greedy hearts. It had been too long since Legolas had sat among the Rivendell trees and heard them whisper to him, far too long since he had heard the ballads of the elandili.
The path twisted abruptly, leading through to outwards-sloping stones, angling towards the dusk sky. Legolas smiled softly, stroking the smooth, almost flawless texture of the stone, struck with the realisation he was paces away from Rivendell. He ducked into the realm of the massive dwelling, looking around in awe.
In the distance, a thousand different songs rang out from sweet mouths, utterances of life, and of love, of all that was happy and green or gold. The air was hung with the thick, perfectly blended scents of jasmine and lavender, familiar to this Elf-Town. And the flawless curves of all the Celtic buildings rose welcomingly to the sky.
"Legolas?" came a voice. "Legolas?" it repeated, burning and impeding. Legolas turned his head, seeing Elrond approaching. The moment he reached the younger elf, he enclosed him in a tight embrace, and Legolas remembered the warmth of the elves he had long ago left behind.
~*~
"Cormamin lindua ele lle, Legolas. Vedui'." [[My heart sings to see you, Legolas. Welcome.]] Elrond beamed full-heartedly at the younger elf standing before him. Though clearly weather-worn, bruised by whatever hands he had fallen into since his disappearance, disheveled by all means, he still held the standard of beauty that Elrond remembered; a resplendent golden aura of absolute perfection that clung to his form.
"Nae saian luume'," [[It has been too long]] replied the elf. Something about his stance, the way he averted his gaze from Elrond's, and the way his voice caught in his throat as he whispered the words without meaning them, it wasn't appropriate to the usually imperial elf. He had sunk into a state beyond modesty, something far more grave-he was ashamed.
Slowly, Elrond drew himself upright, the folds of his majestic robe collapsing over the tiles of his chamber. He took a step forward, drawing himself overtop of the stooped elf, and affectionately letting a hand drop onto Legolas' shoulder. "Mani marte?" [[What happened?]] he whispered, tilting his head. He slid two fingers under Legolas' dropped chin, repositioning the Prince's head to look into his eyes.
"Tampa tanya," [[Stop that,]] Legolas muttered in reply, grabbing Elrond's wrist, and sliding his hand away from Legolas' chin. The blonde dropped his eyes again, concentrating on the intricate stone patterns over the chamber floor, searching for the right words.
"Where is Aragorn, Legolas?" Elrond prodded, dropping unexpectedly into Westron. He tilted his head, trying to read Legolas' expression, but finding only the dark shame, the tendrils of a shady, abused past that clung to his eyes, that pressed down on the blonde's shoulders to keep him from standing upright. "Mani marte?" he pressed urgently, when Legolas didn't reply.
"He let them take me-I thought, perhaps, he was their ally, a spy sent out to rescue me from the hands of one foe and deposit me in the next. I suppose my thinking was folly, but it made sense to my brain, why else would he let them take me without a struggle, when he was supposed to be my friend? During the nights I lay in the nomad's care, all I thought of was how he must be the friend of these new enemies…How he had betrayed me, betrayed me while I was weak.
"From the forest, I saw them circle him, their knives drawn. They were moving in for a kill, I've seen that sort of action in men so many times before-I left him there. I couldn't think why they wanted to kill him, since he had delivered the goods-namely, me-so readily into their porcine hands. Yet he did look terrified.
"Now you tell me he came back for me-that he really is your foster son? I have failed him, as a warrior, and as a friend. I should have stopped, gone to save him, but I was too overwhelmed by pride to do so…" The elf broke off, bitterly clamping his lips together, grinding his teeth. Elrond took a step back, eyes wide in disbelief.
"They've killed my son?" he asked, his voice shuddering. Legolas looked up, the blonde's face overwhelmed with grief, his blue eyes shining with something other than shame, now, more than just history, bitter memories. Now, they were spiked with the most heartbreaking sense of guilt and self-hatred Elrond had ever seen.
Legolas shook his head in disbelief at Elrond's words, clumping a fistful of his own hair. "They couldn't have, they had no motives…" Legolas shook his head, looking at the ground, confusion pressing into his brain.
His mind became an ocean, the waves of his thoughts thrashing about, random and violent, surging through his skull painfully. He pressed a fingertip to his temple, quickly letting out a strangled breath, closing his eyes tightly. He was caught in the waves of his thoughts, struggling to keep above the surface, grabbing to anything buoyant, to any shred of hope, only to have it ripped away by the more violent torrents of water, to be forced under.
Legolas slumped to the floor, drawing his knees to his chest. "Amin delotha sina," [[I hate this,]] he breathed through overwhelming emotion, drowning in the crushing waves of his dying hopes-Aragorn, the ranger that had saved him, from the heat, from the knives, from the crushing form of that malicious man…dead…The only friend he'd had for longer he could remember, and he had killed him… "Amin delotha amin," [[I hate me.]]
"Tampa, Legolas," [[Stop, Legolas.]] Elrond chided, sinking into a sofa, and cradling his face in his hands. His voice was muted by his palms, his entire visage hidden behind long hands. His voice fell from his lips in a grievous moan. "He still may live,"
"Then I will go-I will find him!" Legolas sprang to his feet, desperately grabbing hold of the little hope Elrond had provided. Though the thought had circled through Legolas' mind, it seemed a lie, how could he still live? But from Elrond's lips, it seemed more true.
Elrond stood with the elf, quirking his head. "I am offering you no companions, Legolas, son of Thranduil. If my son dies, I will never forgive you."
Legolas shook his head violently. "I will never forgive myself," he replied stiffly, clearing a strand of hair impatiently from his face. Namaarie, Heruamin." [[Farewell, my Lord]] Legolas quickly twisted around, his feet light, but his steps urgent, as he fled from the threshold of Elrond's home, back into the wilds that had nearly driven him mad.
"Oh, Legolas," Elrond shook his head despairingly, biting onto the line of his bottom lip. "Tenna' ento lye omenta," [[Until next we meet.]]
The Lord turned away from the direction Legolas had taken, and retreated into the hallways of his castle.
~*~
Aragorn was slumped against a tree, arms bound behind it like Legolas' had been, though he had not the comfort of a hammock, only the hard, cold thrill of uneven gravel beneath him, biting into his worn skin.
Crouched before him was one of the most exquisite women he had ever seen. Her hair played down her shoulders like a cascade of obsidian, glimmering in the half-light of the fire and the waxing moon. Her skin, though not fair like with the elves, was still beautiful, a flawless mocha. Her eyes were dark, impossibly dark like a black hole, and Aragorn felt himself falling into them, struggling with the depth in her onyx orbs.
Her eyebrows fell, thin like they had been painted on to her creaseless brow, as she concentrated on Aragorn's face. Her lips, the purest mahogany, parted slightly, showing a slit of off-white that made up her teeth. She lifted an arm, placing her cold hand onto Aragorn's bruised cheek, and he heard the melody of her jewelry play down her arm, as one by one each of her thin bracelets collided with the next, at her elbow.
"You knew him," she breathed, her voice low, intoxicatingly low, nearly impossible to apprehend among the whistling of the wind and the muttering of the other gypsies that lolled about the camp. "You knew the elf that killed my L'rych, did you not?" She scanned over his face, tilting her head to the side. Her hair slid over her left shoulder.
She was dressed in a black jerkin that clung to her curvaceous form, and soft gray leggings that may have belonged to her dead husband. Though her voice was still gentle, melodious, and so beautifully low, it was laced with grief, and shock at her loss.
"I-I was traveling with him," Aragorn replied slowly, gauging the reaction that played over her face. She looked resolute, an unwavering steadfast expression that Aragorn hadn't ever remembered having seen on the females of his heritage. She was determined, poised, like a warrior; yet somehow so intensely female it was hard to behold her with mortal eyes. "He was my friend,"
"He was in the woods the day we caught you," she murmured, craning her neck forward, her face hovering just tantalizingly out of reach from Aragorn's. He struggled to hold his head back, tried to drop his gaze from hers, but found himself once again immersed in her eyes, captivated by the hold she had over him. "He watched as the child knocked you unconscious, watched as we brought you here," she breathed. Her breath was heavy, hot, and smelt strongly of pine.
Aragorn tensed, surprised, though relief gripped him. His friend was not dead. "Yes?" Aragorn prompted, furrowing his brow as he waited expectantly for the girl to continue.
"I saw him. He turned, and left, left you behind-abandoning you to a certain doom. Some friend," she murmured. A small, cruel smile spread over her dark lips. "He left you to die. And, though I am not the most clever woman in these camps, I think I know why."
She drew out her words, giving time for realisation to sink over Aragorn's captivated form. He blinked, furrowed his brow in confusion, then concentration, then shock. "He…he did…? Why?!"
"You left him on the crags, Ranger. You left him to rape and death at the hands of my men. He believed you one of us…And so he left you, left you because you left him." She smiled, watching his face, before aggressively throwing her own at it, absorbing his cracked lips in her own flawless ones. Though her scent, her taste was so alluring, pressing him to continue, Aragorn fought against her invasion, into his lips, his mouth.
She drew back, eons passing between their eyes, slowly drawing herself to her feet. Her jerkin, once bunched about at her chest, fell down to her knees. She smiled, a mixture of searing warmth and ice coldness, before turning, leaving him alone in a flash of ebony hair and a mysterious tinkle of golden bangles.
~*~
Legolas stopped, drawing to the sides of the road, and hiding himself behind a tree, watching as a horse quickly approached him on the road. He recognized it as the one that bore the lad that the nomad's king had sent to Rivendell.
Allowing a moment for the horse to continue up the road, Legolas readied a bow borrowed from the elandili, the arrow pointing towards the approaching arrow.
An arrow leapt soundlessly from the taught bowstring, passing without the lad's knowledge until it lodged itself firmly into his shoulder blade. Letting loose a cry of shock and pain, he toppled backwards off of his horse.
"TAMPA!" Legolas yelled at the horse, snatching the reins before the creature could run away. He redirected the creature, and led him over to the gypsy on the ground, back arched, hand clasped over his shoulder in pain.
"Y-you!" choked the lad, staring blankly up at the elf. Slowly, the elf sunk down into a squat, and nodded gently. His hand jerked across the lad's chest, curving around the shaft of the Rivendell arrow, promptly wrenching it from the pale lad. He let loose a scream of pain, subsiding into a whimper of disbelief as the elf firmly lay his hand over the wound, pressing into it.
"I'm sorry. But I need your horse, and I had doubts you'd let me use it unless I did this too you." Legolas tilted his head, looking into the practically-child's eyes, the tears that lay underneath them. "You're a good lad. Now listen to me, don't go to Rivendell. You'll wait here, for two days and nights, before returning to your camp. You need time to heal." Legolas reached down to his own belt, and pulled out his canteen, laying it on the ground beside the lad, along with a leaf-wrapped pastry of some elvish make. "Consume these sparingly," the elf advised.
Faster than his eyes could catch, the teen saw the elf move from being squatted beside him to being on the back of his horse, reins at hands. He tossed the reins, sharply murmuring something in his own tongue, before disappearing opposite of the way the boy had been coming.
~*~
Aragorn stirred in his sleep, opening an eye, just a slit. Through his jumbled eyelashes he caught the brilliance of a campfire, licking flames slowly towards the sky, spilling gray smoke through the campsite. Standing behind it, outlined in sharp light, was that mysterious woman, her once-shabby garb now made of the most brilliant ivory.
Her shirt clung to her chest, complimenting her build, fitting to her like a second skin. A caress of glitter spread from the inside of her chest outwards, stroking over her shoulders. The sleeves fell open at the cuffs, her jewelry still glittering at her wrists. A long skirt of the fairest alabaster had replaced her leggings, hugging to her hips before blossoming into a beautiful skirt down her legs. The hem was decorated with rose petals and tiny, precious stones, sending forth a crinkle of music each time she moved.
By all standards, this woman, more intoxicating and dangerous before, more alluring and fatal, clad in the garb of human royalty, was the queen of the gypsies.
She looked over at Aragorn, causing him to wither inside, so sharp and determined were her eyes. She took a step over, extending an arm into the gloom at her side that Aragorn couldn't see, long fingers clasping around something that gleamed white under the firelight.
"You are the friend of one who killed my husband," she breathed, her voice no longer low, or sing-song, but the ragged voice of a broken, enraged woman. Aragorn willed his eyes open, staring up at her, magnificent and horrible, eyes flashing with rage. "You are the accomplice of the one who destroyed our camp and killed our king!" she proclaimed.
All around, in soft voices, soft voices from hunched forms huddling just outside the light cast by the flickering firelight, agreed; "our king, our king."
"How must we punish him?" she demanded, out sweeping the arm that was not clasping some alien object.
The reply came, numbing Aragorn's senses, drawing a hideous grin over the woman's once beautiful features. She lifted her arm, the bracelets crashing together like thunder.
"Death, death…"
***
Bwahaha! I absolutely LOVE ending it there…*rubs hands together and giggles maliciously* I'm going to try and get the next chapter up today as well, so don't fret too much…151 reviews! My ego is so swollen right now, it's not even funny-except it sort of is. Have I mentioned how much I love all of you for reviewing? Seriously…You guys are the best.
Lots of luv and such,
~Kayte =^^=