Disclaimer: Anything you don't recognise is mine and everything else belongs to Tolkien.
A/N: If anywhere in the story it says 'Arterial' instead of Alarien, then it's just because I clicked on the wrong thing in my spell check, because I when I pasted it into a new html file from word I had to go through it and re-format it which was sooooooo boring, and so maybe I made some mistakes!
Thanks to all those who have reviewed, and this chapter is longer than usual, even so I have been EXTREMELY busy, so please show your appreciation by reviewing!
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For three days now, Legolas had lain in the care of the healers. The poison the orcs used on their arrows was a potent one and required great skill to heal its effects. Luckily, the arrow had not penetrated very deep and though he himself was oblivious to everything, Legolas' body was fighting the poison as much as the healers. Alarien had lain in the room next to him that first night, but she was merely fatigued and she awoke, recovered the next day. Since then she had left Legolas' side only three times, each day she had visited Arwen in her chamber. All day she sat by his side, joined a lot of the time by Thranduil, soothing his fevered brow with a towel soaked in fragrant water, sometimes talking to him, sometimes singing, all the time begging him to wake up. Each night she went dejectedly to her bed, praying that he would awaken the next day. On the fifth day, her prayers were answered.
Sitting by his side as usual, she was singing a lament for him, her pure voice penetrating the darkness that lay on his soul. As she reached out her hand to cool his forehead with the soft towel she saw his eyelids flicker and then open.
Blinking a few times as he opened his eyes, the first thing Legolas saw was her face, smiling and illuminated by the warm sunlight. The vision was so unexpected that he thought he had died. But as he reached up his hand to stroke her cheek he felt smooth soft skin. She put her own hand over his and squeezed it gently.
"You're real," he said weakly. "I thought I was dead."
"Shhh, rest now." She placed her hand on his forehead and, tired by the effort of fighting the poison, he closed his eyes again and went to sleep. She could feel by the coolness of his skin that the fever had passed.
Overjoyed at his awakening Alarien felt all her concern and guilt drift away. He would be all right! Later that day, as she was standing by the window, she heard him move and turning, saw him almost sitting up, resting on his elbows. The covers had slid down revealing his bandaged shoulder and a fair amount of his bare torso, smooth and muscular. He was watching her, a puzzled expression on his face.
"What happened? Why am I here? I don't remember much." Alarien went over to his side and told him of all that had happened since he had lost consciousness, leaving out the fact that he had woken up a few hours earlier, which he seemed to have forgotten.
"You saved my life." Blushing, Alarien realised that she hadn't thought about her part in the slaying of their attackers.
"Yes, but you saved mine, so we are even." She smiled at him and he smiled back. A thoughtful expression crossed his face.
"I remember a bit now: at first you thought I was dead. You were crying and I felt your tears on my face, running into mine." He looked at her, his eyes boring deep into hers. Suddenly uneasy again, Alarien walked back to the window, staring out at the forest that had been the cause of so much anxiety and pain.
"Indeed, I believed you were dead. I was crying because I couldn't bear the thought that you might have died while protecting me." She heard a sudden sharp intake of breath and turned to see him gingerly rubbing his wounded shoulder.
"I…I was trying to flex my arm, but it pains me greatly." He spoke between gritted teeth; his tensed facial muscles slowly easing as the pain subsided. Walking back over to him she told him to lie down and gently unravelled the bandage on his shoulder. The healers had done an amazing job, and the effects of the poison had completely subsided. The pain he felt was due to the fact that the arrow had pierced his muscle. Every morning the healers had come in and changed his bandage, smoothing a soothing balm onto the wound before replacing it. Apart from that, there had been nothing to do but leave nature to run its course, the fever would die down on its own after the medicine they had administered to him the moment they had brought him in took effect. They had allowed Alarien to stay by his side, soothing him in the midst of his fever. She had watched as each day they had examined his wound and now could see the signs that it was healing well. It would leave a small scar, but that could not be helped. Now, she ran her cool fingers over it, examining it for any signs of infection. She could see none and, lifting up his arm, carefully redid the bandage, being careful not to make it too tight. He watched her as she concentrated on wrapping up his arm, the tip of her tongue between her white teeth as she gave it her full attention. Her fingers moved deftly and skilfully, and he enjoyed the feel of them on his bare skin. When she had finished, she stepped back and admired her handiwork. In his eyes she looked tired, and bit drained. Indeed she was, for she had not slept well all the time he had been unconscious, her weighted conscience keeping her awake. Her skin was paler than usual, and her eyes had lost some of their sparkle. He ached to make her smile again, but nothing he could think of to say would have the desired effect. He smiled at her:
"Thank you." She smiled back, but after her initial joy at his awakening, her energy had left her and the smile was strained. She went over to the chair by the window and sat down. Neither said anything, and in the stillness, Alarien felt as though the warm sun was lulling her to sleep. She tried to resist and rested her cheek on her hand, looking out of the window, but gradually her eyelids began to drop and laying her head on the arm that rested on the windowsill, sleep overcame her. Legolas watched her as her fatigue took over, and her quiet rhythmic breathing confirmed that she was asleep. He lay on one side, propped up on his good, right arm, his eyes never leaving her face, peaceful and expressionless. After a while he found that he was immensely hungry and decided that Arwen also looked in need of some refreshment. He wondered where he could get hold of some food.
Taking advantage of the fact that she was asleep, for he knew she would not let him get up, he decided to go and find some for himself. Throwing back the covers, he got out of bed, finding his legs weak and a bit shaky from lack of use. He found he was wearing soft, long blue trousers that he hadn't seen before. Unsteadily at first, but feeling his strength returning even as he walked, he went silently to his chamber, deliberately choosing passages that were rarely used, so as to avoid being seen. Going in, he picked up the bowl of fruit that Falaborn, his attendant, had laid out for him, as he did every day. Not knowing when his master would recover, Falaborn had laid out the fruit for him every day as usual. Taking the whole bowl with him, he returned quickly to his room in the healing wing.
He got back into bed and started to eat, being careful to save some for Arwen. After a while, the afternoon turned to dusk and air coming in through the open window grew cool. Fearing that Arwen, lying underneath it, would grow cold, he silently got up and bending over her sleeping form, pulled the window shut, not noticing her eyes opening. She watched as he went back to his bed, and innocently resumed his eating. She made some suitable waking up noises and watched through her eyelashes as he hurriedly put the bowl of fruit he was eating on the floor and pretended to be asleep, lying on his side with his back to her. With stormy eyes and clenched fists, she marched over to his bed and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him round to face her. He blinked and acted as though he had just woken up, but seeing the annoyed expression she was wearing, he knew that he had been discovered. He sat up and tried not to look guilty.
"What do you think you are doing getting up?"
"I was hungry and you looked like you wouldn't do any worse for some food. So I went and got some. Besides, I felt like some exercise" He said nonchalantly.
"You…felt like some exercise?"
"Umm…. yes."
"I haven't been sitting by your side all this time, looking after you for you to get up before you are ready just because 'you felt like some exercise'. Do you want to get better?" Her angry face and fiery eyes made her look even more attractive to him than usual. And as she didn't look as though she was going to stop shouting any time soon. There was only one thing for it, and he just couldn't resist it. He reached out, grabbed her hand and pulled her down to sit on the bed beside him.
"What do you think you're…" Before she could carry on talking he gently put a hand either side of her face, drew it to his and kissed her. Shocked and angry, she pulled away almost immediately, her face flushed and her eyes wide. She opened her mouth, but no words came out for several moments.
"What did you do that for?" She said finally. He lay back on his elbows, smiling with amusement at her shocked expression.
"Well, you didn't seem to want to stop yelling." At his teasing words, she hung her head and spoke quietly.
"I was just so worried that's all. I just want you to be better."
"I know." He ran his fingers down her cheek, and she let out a tired sigh.
"Legolas, don't." She got up and went over to the window and stood there trying to clear her head. Silently he got up and followed her. She didn't hear him approach and jumped slightly when she felt him put his hands on her shoulders and turn her round.
"I'm sorry Arwen. I shouldn't have done that." His beautiful blue eyes were suddenly remorseful, concerned. She didn't answer immediately, but finally she spoke. Her face blank and her eyes void of expression.
"I think I should go. If you want to be fully recovered for the competition, I suggest you stay in bed. The healers come in the morning to change your bandage." Without meeting his gaze she turned and almost ran out of the room.
"You don't have to leave." He called after her fleeting figure but she didn't turn back.
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As soon as she had left the room, Alarien began to run, not stopping until she reached her room. She went in and closed the door behind her, slumping against it and sliding down it until she reached the floor. She sat with her knees tucked up by her chin and rested her chin on them. She couldn't believe what had just happened. It had taken every shred of control she possessed not to respond when he had kissed her. What did it mean? She realised that when he was near her, her sense of control diminished. She would have to make a harder effort to avoid him than before, she didn't think she would be able to resist another kiss.
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In his chamber, Legolas was pacing from one side to another. He was not entirely sure he regretted what he had done, he knew that he wouldn't have been able to resist much longer and it would have happened sooner or later, most probably sooner he thought with a wry smile. And there had definitely been something there when he had kissed her; a brief fraction of a second when she had been about to respond, before that guardedness of hers had kicked in and she had pulled back. Still, it had been nice while it lasted, he thought. Feeling tired by the events of the day, he retreated to his bed and quickly fell asleep.
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Thranduil was overjoyed to hear the news that he son had awoken. Every night when she had gone to bed, unknown to everyone, Thranduil had come down and taken her place by Legolas' side. The knowledge that his son could die had shaken the king greatly. His sons were all he had left since their mother had died. Her name had been Aarien, sun maiden, and she had had been just that. She had loved the sun, and was the most joyful being in the whole of Mirkwood. Whereas Landir took after his father, Legolas was the image of his mother. He had her golden hair and deep blue eyes that changed hue according to his mood. She had been much loved in the kingdom, but one day, as she and Thranduil were out riding together, they had been waylaid by a group of bandits, men from some far off land. They had come upon them undetected and had shot a shower of poisoned arrows at them. Aarien had been struck, but Thranduil escaped without a wound, and after killing their attackers so they could escape, took her almost lifeless body back to the palace. The healers had tried their best, but the poison had already run too deep and she had died. Landir could not remember his mother much; he only had small images of an angelic face singing to him every night as he fell asleep. Legolas remembered her more, being older, but he never mentioned her, keeping the pain of her loss buried deep in his heart. For him, the grief was still too near.
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A/N: Love it? Hate it? Let me know.