Leben
"My Lord." Carandoliel had found him in the passageway in front of a set of ornate doors that led into an antechamber of the main dining hall. He seemed to be tracing the lines of two meticulously carved trees with his eyes. The dark flesh of the wood had been etched and edged with caring hands when the palace was first being cut into the rock many, many years ago. Legolas now stood transfixed as the designs and patterns seemed to calm his mind.
"You are still troubled. What is the matter Legolas?" Hearing his proper name brought him out of his trance as he recognized the deep concern in her voice. Watching the emotions behind her irises only confirmed his suspicions.
"I am merely concerned for Araorë…he acted most strangely just a few moments ago." Carandoliel's eyes fell to the floor for a moment, and then quickly returned to his face with something new now burning inside of them. Legolas could not place the emotion at first, and then, with a startling realization he recognized what it was…fear, no…terror.
"What is it? Why am I being told nothing?" He unconsciously grabbed her upper arm roughly and shook her slightly. Carandoliel's lips remained set for a moment before she spoke quietly and quickly, as though she feared the walls about them would hear her words.
"Something is happening. It started only a few weeks before you arrived. There were rumors…rumors of a stranger…I had seen or heard nothing amongst the courtiers, but the servants were speaking of it. Then, Araorë seemed to fall silent more often…he stopped taking his meals in the dining hall and instead ate in private…I think…" Here she paused, the fear in her eyes now wide and unmistakable. "I think he has something to do with this stranger…something to do with this woman the servants keep whispering about." She shuddered suddenly, as though a chill had run through her body and suddenly begged leave of the prince, claiming her head was aching. After eliciting a promise that she would join him for dinner, Legolas found himself more determined than ever to discover the truth about the happenings around his home.
He came to the main foyer of the palace and waited there for a moment. To his right and down towards the Western wing of the palace were his father's chambers, where he was certain to be found in the afternoons. To his left, the Eastern wing, and the answers to perhaps some, perhaps all of his questions. Back the way he came was a very cautious and unusually sallow Araorë and a very frightened Carandoliel.
He turned on his heel and made his way down the hallway towards the East wing, the sound of his boot heels clicking the only noise.
~*~
The Eastern wing of the palace had always been used to house guests and dignitaries. Legolas and Araorë hardly ever explored it during their childhood, for nothing of interest could be found that way. The wide halls were an endless repetition of tapestries and doorways, each door the same as the next, each woven arras more dull with progression.
As Legolas wandered this lonely hall he began to wonder how he should even know where to begin looking. Each large entryway was the exact same as the next and after a while he began to loose count of how many doors he had passed by. Perhaps he had walked right past the room he so desperately sought. Just when he had resigned and turned an about face an unearthly wail faintly wandered down the corridor and froze the blood in his veins.
He quickly spun about, nearly upsetting a Numerian suit of armor, and madly ran towards the end of the hallway. The moan grew suddenly louder and then stopped altogether. He had lost the source of the sound, although he knew he had to be close. The nightmarish echoes kept reverberating in his head as he turned first to his right and then to his left, trying to pinpoint where he thought the sound had come from. Suddenly, something caught his eye and his breath stopped short in his throat. One of the wall hangings was slowly moving back and forth on an unseen breeze. Legolas glanced across the hall and noticed no windows or open doors through which a draft could escape. He walked to the edge of the tapestry and held his hand out. A soft, barely perceptible wind was flowing in from somewhere behind the material and with a firm thrust he threw the tapestry to the side and revealed a door hidden from view. Underneath the large mahogany door pale candlelight was escaping and a muffled cry emerged.