Pale morning sunlight greeted Legolas as he dressed for the day. The lilting breeze of a fading summer caught the sheer window curtains and lifted them on unseen fingers. He stood in the silence of the room, first watching the windows and then turning his eyes towards the still sleeping Carandoliel. Her pale yellow nightgown lay spread out across the bedsheets like a pool of silk, and watching her steady breathing Legolas realized how much he loved her. It was for the moments like these, where her goodness and gentle love seemed to spread out and touch everything with brightness. He smiled and walked over to her, placing a kiss on her forehead as he thought to wake her and hold her in his arms. He had something he had to do first today, though.
With silent footsteps he left the room, determined to meet with Araorë and settle the disturbance between them. The early morning hours found not many people about the castle hallways and as Legolas made his way towards Araorë's room he passed by a young elf obviously on his way towards the back of the palace and in a terrible hurry. He had his arm tucked underneath a rather large bundle of fresh leather and although he could not be sure, Legolas felt he had seen the elf recently somewhere else before.
The prince dismissed the thought as he spotted Araorë walking with some importance just up ahead and with a grim seriousness set upon his face, he approached his friend. The reception he received was nothing he had thought it would be.
"Legolas!" Araorë wore and broad and genuine smile as he approached his friend and clapped him on the shoulder. "Why are you taking your constitutional at so early an hour?" Legolas was at a complete loss for words. Was this the same man who mere hours ago had spoken to him as though he were his bitterest enemy? Trying not to appear too severe he stuttered to life and forced a slight smile.
"Yes…I mean…I was looking for you." His voice betrayed his utter confusion and as Araorë laughed heartily and clapped him again, he began to feel more like an ass with each passing moment.
"Whatever for? Have my exploits been discovered?" The joviality seemed almost overt. Legolas forced himself to stop making conspiracies where none existed and laughed along with Araorë at his joke.
"Seriously Legolas, what did you want to talk with me about?" The prince felt like a cad and could hardly look Araorë in the eyes. Instead he spoke the first thing that came into his mind.
"Carandoliel and I would like you to join us for dinner tonight. She tells me you have been working diligently over your books for the past few weeks and we thought you would welcome the change." Araorë smiled again and accepted, though with a slight trace of hesitancy, Legolas perceived.
"I should be delighted to join you…but come now, you didn't seek my company just to ask me that? What you really want to know is how I am involved with Enberaidien." A sly smile crossed Araorë's lips and upon receiving Legolas' shocked reaction, the smile broke into a laugh.
"Don't be so evasive- we are friends!" His eyes turned shamefacedly towards the ground. "I know I was short with you yesterday but there were…issues that needed resolving and I supposed my mind and my manners were elsewhere…friends?" To that Legolas gave his own smile as they clasped hands.
"Friends." It felt as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders and all about him the air was easier to breathe. It was good to see the familiar spark of friendliness in Araorë's eyes.
"So, what is it that you desire to know?" Legolas could hardly think for the relief flooding his mind, still, he was able to remember the few questions he wanted to ask his friend.
"What is your involvement with her? Father tells me you took a great personal interest." Araorë smiled and gestured down the hallway towards the library.
"Perhaps it would be better if we talked in there. My notes are in order and it is easier to understand when those who knew it best explain it to you." Legolas had no objections and with eager footsteps they came into the extensive library of the palace. Legolas had never cared much for the musty smell of the books; he found them dull and took more pleasure in riding about the earth than reading about it.
As he entered the sanctum of literature, the same familiar smell came rushing up to meet him but now it did not offend him so. Perhaps he had grown more accustomed to the idea of books; perhaps passing years had given him an appreciation for sitting in solitude with a magnificent story at his fingertips. Araorë directed him past the outer shelves and led him back into the farthest, most tucked-away corner in the whole room. Here, a small table had been set up along with a chair and a box of candles, most of which were burned to the wick.
"Here is where I have done all my research." Araorë quickly tidied up, picking up a rather small blue bound book and tucking it away in a stack of volumes. He straightened out his papers and from the pile of literature, selected a rather old and ugly book. Its binding was yellowing from the passing of time and when Araorë opened it, the gnarled corners of the pages revealed its age and use.
"I don't understand what you really mean to show me." Legolas nodded towards the pile of papers and books. "We know she is an elf…it is all a matter of where she came from and who she is…that is not to be found in any book." Araorë smiled smartly and concentrated on leafing through the pages of the molding book.
"Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure she is an elf?"
"Yes. Her ears are…"
"Ah, her ears. Tell me, can not a man's ears be cut the same way…burned the same way?" The idea hit Legolas with a dull thud as he realized they could. His eyes wandered to the page that Araorë had stopped at. On it was a picture of a woman in shackles, broken and bleeding badly from large wounds in her side and back.
"A slave- but not just any slave…and this is why your father fears her the most- she was a slave of Sauron's. She is a woman of the race of Men. She was a slave in the hands of Sauron in the fortress of Dol Guldur. You see…" He gestured towards the book and pointed at the scrawling words. "Men were used by Sauron because their bodies were smaller and more pliable than orcs. They were used to mine beneath the earth for the very rare jewels he set in his rings. They were kept underground and out of the sunlight. That is why her hair and her skin are so white and…why she screams when she sees the light." Araorë's explanation astounded Legolas, and it seemed to fill in all of the missing puzzle pieces except-
"But the scars across her eyes. They are not new…in fact they are quite old and embedded. Why has she been scarring her face so?" Araorë's smile flinched for a moment before he tugged it back up and replied expertly:
"She has been wandering in the wilderness for a while. She could have done it upon first escaping the castle. You see…she was left there when Sauron abandoned it. We don't know how she survived or on what she lived but she did. When she finally made her way to the surface, the light must have kept her in hiding for quite some time, until she had lost strength hunting only at night- Men's senses are not adept at seeking food in the dark." Legolas could not explain it, but his intuition had come to life again and it wasn't resting easily with Araorë's story. Something wasn't right, something was amiss in the flawless picture Araorë had painted, and Legolas couldn't decide what it was.