Chapter 16

Whispers in Laera's Clearing

A/N:: Ah, 16! My favourite number! Yes, I'm starting to lengthen my chapters thanks to the advice of Tanya Cipriani. Thank you for your support and sweet reviews! They really made my day. Thanks to everyone else who has reviewed and I hope you like this chapter.

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Arwen walked through the trees of woods that surrounded Imladris, her hands balled into angry fists. It was early in the evening; the moon had just begun its ascent through the velvet sky, the stars waking from their daylight slumber. She paused by a birch tree and wrapped her slender arms about its pale trunk. Leaning her forehead against the cook bark, Arwen struggled to forget the cruel things that were being said about her sister. Word of her sister's flight from Rivendell had slipped between the cracks of its secrecy.

"Poor Elrond, cursed with such a nitwit of a daughter!"

"I always knew she was a trouble maker! The fate of Middle-earth might as well be lost…"

Nobody except for Laera's family seemed to be concerned about Laera's well being. Mostly everyone believed Laera to be dead. Arwen refused to give in to her own doubts for she feared her grief would consume her.

She left the tree and continued through the woods, her anger revealed in the rosy blush that stained her cheek. Suddenly, she found herself in Laera's clearing. Smiling, she bent to pick up a small object that glinted in the pale moonlight, nestled amongst the flowers. It was a small, miniature teacup with pretty pink daisies delicately painted on its smooth porcelain surface. Enclosing her fingers about it, she hugged it to her chest, her anger giving way to her sorrow.

***

Aragorn barged through the trees, not caring if he made any noise, which was good since he was making plenty of it. He had too much on his mind; he should never have let Legolas leave without him. Laera, an Elven maid, did something he could not. If he left tonight would he catch up to him? It did not seem likely, for four days had passed since Legolas's leave and Legolas would surely be there by now.

But it was not only the peril of Middle-earth that tugged at his mind. He could not stop thinking about her, the Elf Arwen whose beauty radiated in the likeness of light from a star that was her namesake. He had known her all his life and he had never known a friendship as strong and as secure as his bond with Arwen. He had also never known such a longing, such yearning to have her hands grace his features with her sacred touch, to have her wonderful eyes look upon his own with love and desire, and her lips…

He shook his head briskly in an attempt to shake thoughts of her from his mind to no avail. He loved her and had to face the reality that she was immortal, perfect and would never lower herself to love a mere Ranger. But it has happened before, he remembered, thinking of the monumental love of Luthien and Beren. He was so lost in his thoughts that he, at first, did not notice he had walked into Laera's clearing.

Hearing him approach, Arwen stared in alarm in the direction of where the noises came from. At last he burst through the trees, he head bent, arms slack at his sides. He looked distressed… could it be worry for Legolas and Laera?

"Estel?" she greeted. Upon hearing her voice, Aragorn's head snapped up and stared dumbly at Arwen. The sight of her took his breath away, as it always did, but tonight… She stood amongst the flowers, her thin dress falling gracefully about her in pools of white and silver. She gazed at him in that friendly, fond look that she always did, her eyes soft and welcoming. The moonlight shone on her dark hair, which was unbound and fell down her back in dark waves, curling about her girlish waist. She looked too lovely to be of this world and for a moment Aragorn wondered if he were amidst a dream.

"I apologize if I had intruded upon anything," Aragorn spoke, finally. "I didn't think anybody would be here…"

She laughed, her voice like crystal music on his ears. "Yes, that is why I came here as well. Laera was not the only one who enjoyed escape every once and awhile."

"What is it that you wanted to escape from?"

The look in her eyes changed suddenly from amusement to anger as she was reminded of the gossip that circulated around Rivendell. Taking a seat on a mossy stone, Arwen told Aragorn about what was being said. She told him of her anger, her anguish. She could always tell everything to Aragorn.

He listened quietly, intently hanging onto every word. Her distress pained him greatly. He would have given his own life if it meant Arwen's happiness. He cursed the people of Rivendell for their thoughtlessness and comforted her as best he can.

"They do not care about Laera at all," she cried, staring at the stars. "They all assume she is… she…" she faltered. She could not bring herself to say it.

"Shh," Aragorn said softly, slipping a strong arm over her shoulders. "Do not listen to them. Listen to what your heart tells you. Have faith in a better future for us all."

Arwen sighed, leaning her head heavily against his broad chest. She could hear his heart beating… faster than usual. "Do you always listen to what your heart tells you?" she whispered.

Aragorn's breath caught in his chest and he wondered if Arwen suspected anything. "Sometimes. It can be hard…listening."

"I know how it can be," she said, tracing the design of the embroidery on Aragorn's shirtfront with her finger. "My heart tells me so many things. I am -afraid- to listen and follow what it tells me to do."

"And what does it tell you?" Aragorn asked, his curiosity sparking.

"It tells me to jump into the deepest pool even though I cannot swim; it tells me to take fate in my grasp and forget that I am immortal," she paused, not exactly sure of she was saying. It suddenly occurred to her she may be revealing her feelings to him and in her panic, she decided to quickly change the subject. "Oh, Aragorn," she sighed, taking his hand in both of her own in a tight clasp. "It would have killed me if it had been you who was chosen on that mission. You are so dear to me, Estel."

Aragorn's eyes misted as he hugged the Elf tightly against him. "You are very dear to me as well, Arwen." Should he tell her now? It didn't seem right if he chose not to. "I can understand. I cannot follow what my heart asks of me for fear of what I may lose."

She lifted her head from his chest and gazed into his eyes in curiosity. "What does your heart tell you?"

He took her beautiful face in his hands and gazed into the eyes he loved so much. It was then, as she looked up at the face of her friend, that she knew what his heart had been telling him. "It tells me that I am in love you, Arwen," he said simply, feeling as though he a great burden had been taken from his shoulders.

She was quite still, her eyes never leaving his. Her hand rose and she lovingly caressed the contours of his handsome face, lined with his years of being a Ranger. She brought her face closer to his and rested a smooth cheek against his rough one. As the leaves gently fell from the birches that enclosed the pair, and as the night creatures watched then turned away, feeling that such a moment was to beautiful and momentous to be spied upon, Arwen whispered her own feelings to the man she loved.

And in the stillness of the clearing, Aragorn bent his head and kissed her, feeling the world and its troubles were all of a sudden very far away. In the background of the joy that Arwen felt must be bursting through her very skin, she saw glimpses of a dark, ominous truth. But tonight, she did not care. For although they were, in race, very different, she felt his heart beating in his chest against her own and that was all she needed to know.

***

Laera trudged up the mountainside, becoming more and more aware of the cold winds that swirled about her. The sharp, alpine air bit harshly on the exposed skin on her hands and face. Rubbing her hands together vigorously for warmth, Laera shivered underneath her brother's tunic.

"Are you cold?" Legolas asked casually, glancing over his shoulder.

Laera looked at him, her hands gripping the sides of her arms. "Ye-es," she replied, her teeth chattering. Legolas eyes softened and removed his cloak from his shoulders. Quietly, he wrapped it about her shoulders, rubbing the sides of her frigid arms for extra warmth.

"Better?" he asked, sincerely concerned. Laera saw this sincerity and despite her anger towards him, she felt her heart grow warmer.

"Yes, thank you."

They continued up the mountain, gliding swiftly over the snow effortlessly and with ease. They had been climbing up the mountain all day and Legolas told her they were almost there. Then again, he had also said that hours ago. The winds at that altitude were truly quite horrible and Laera's long, dark hair whipped about her face, blinding her. Through her hair, she saw Legolas's own hair behaving quite nicely, resting over his broad shoulders. How did he do it?

After a few more minutes of struggle, Laera was fed up. She caught up to Legolas and swiftly pulled out one of his long knives. Legolas turned in surprise, watching as Laera began to quickly cut her hair with the blade of the sword. Silently, her teeth clenched, Laera took locks of hair in her hands and continued to cut until the length of her hair reached her chin. Pretty soon, locks of dark hair surrounded her, contrasting against the white of the snow.

When she was through, Laera was breathless. She dropped the sword and looked at Legolas with tears in her eyes. She herself could believe what she had just done. "Do you have anything that I can use to bind my hair?"

Quickly, Legolas ripped a small piece of material from his own tunic and handed it to her, his mouth slightly agape from his shock. Laera gathered what remained of her hair and bound it tightly behind her. When she was through, her eyes stared levelly at his, waiting for him to speak.

"You look different," he said finally, a smile beginning to twitch the corners of his mouth. Yes, Laera did indeed look very different but it was now, more than ever, did Legolas desire to draw her close to him, wiping away her pout with his kiss. But it was not to be.

She smiled, instantly feeling better. The wind continued to blow fiercely about her, but her hair was out of her eyes. She continued to mourn the loss of her hair, however, for it was the only part of her she truly thought was beautiful. But when they finally reached the entrance into the mountain, Laera decided her haircut was all for the better.

They came to large, stone doors with some form of Dwarvish script along the top of it. An intricate, beautiful design had been carved into the hard surface and gems of all colours, which had been fused into the stone, glittered cheerily at her. Laera stared hard at the markings, but found she could not decipher them. "What does it say?" she asked Legolas.

"It says 'No Elven women are to pass through these doors'," he lied, hoping this would dissuade her from entering the mountain.

Laera glanced at him sharply. She could not believe he thought her that stupid. "Then why are you going in?" she said slyly, laughing at her own remark.

Despite the insult, Legolas laughed with her. It was good to see her laughing again. "I am not sure what it says. Neither Elrond or Aragorn told me there were doors."

"How do you get inside?"

"Push the doors open, I guess," Legolas said, studying the stone doors. He placed both hands on one of the doors and pushed. They did not move. Frowning, Legolas leant all of his weight against the doors and grunted when they still would not move. Taking a deep breath, Legolas stepped away from the doors and ran straight at them, colliding his shoulder against the doors with all his might.

The doors did not even tremble. Laera stifled a laugh as Legolas's face contorted in pain. She watched as he moved away from her, muttering softly to himself. After a moment's silence, she heard a soft whimper escape from the Elf. "Are you all right?" she asked.

He didn't answer but continued to rub his sore shoulder. Turning away from him, Laera gingerly touched the stones that shone so brightly in the light; they were so beautiful. She gasped as one of the gems fell from the doors after she touched it. She bit her lip and stared into the hole the gem once occupied. Taking a deep breath, Laera stuck a finger into the hole, not knowing what to expect.

A loud sound resonated off of the mountains as the doors began to swing back. Legolas, shock overcoming his pain, watched as the doors of the Fehn Mountain opened before them. Laera gazed into the darkness of the mountains, amazed at what had just happened.

"What did you do?" asked Legolas, still recovering from his embarrassing stunt.

"Something you didn't." Laera bent over and picked up the jewel that had gained them access into the mountain. It sparkled a beautiful, deep red colour in the palm of her hand. "What a lovely souvenir," she said, placing the stone in the pocket of her tunic.

"Let's go in," Legolas urged. And the two elves, both very frightened but too proud to say so, stepped inside the mountain. The second their feet were inside, the doors began to move until they closed tightly behind them. They were surrounded by darkness. Then, one by one, unseen torches began to light up until a vast cavern was exposed to them.

Laera looked at the doors behind her warily. There were no entry stones or gimmicks she could see. "No where to go but forward," she muttered. So the two elves moved forward deeper within the depths of the Fehn Mountains.

***