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!
I am going away for a week, so there will be no updates till after then. So I, the nice person I am, will put two chapters up now! Enjoy, and please review! ;o)
Here is the second chapter of the two I was going to post. Hope you all like it! Buy one, get one free!
* * *
Legolas stood where he was, watching her fleeing figure. He wasn't entirely sure if he had dreamed what had just happened or not. No, he could still taste her lips on his own: it had been real. He realised that every nerve in his body was burning, the elation and adrenaline that was pumping through his veins leaving him weak and he leaned once more against the tree. His heart felt so full of love and joy he thought it would burst. He just couldn't get his head around the fact that he had just kissed her, and she had kissed him back. He knew he had never experienced anything as sweet as the feel of her lips on his. It had been as though he had never been fully alive until now.
But why had she run off? Was it because she had let her guard down? Was she afraid of her feelings for him? He was no longer confused about his own emotions. He had never felt something so strong before, and though it frightened him, he knew that it must be love. The thought of living a life without her seemed appalling to him. He smiled despite himself, remembering the kiss, the feel of her so close to him in his arms, her hands in his. She was so beautiful; he didn't know what he had done to be blessed with her. He felt as though there had always been a gap in his life, and she was the only one who could make him fully complete. After enjoying the feel of the cool evening air on his flushed face, he returned to the palace.
* * *
In her room, Alarien paced around and around, her hands clenched so much so that her knuckles were white. She circuited again and again, mentally screaming at herself. She had ruined everything. She knew now that what she was feeling towards Legolas was love. Every time he came near her she felt both weakened and yet also somehow more awake and alive. But far from being able to revel in her emotional discovery, she had to somehow find out how to conceal it, or stop herself from feeling it. In that moment of weakness, she had succumbed to the power of his beauty. If Arwen knew…No, Arwen must never know, she thought. Of all the people to fall in love with, why did it have to be him? But she knew why. It was because he was Legolas, and everything about him enchanted her. She had tried to fight it, but she knew it was impossible to try. The only thing to do was make him stop liking her. Maybe, stop loving her? Did he love her? Stop it! Stop thinking about him! But the question was how? She would have to just ignore him and pretend that she thought the kiss had been a mistake. But hurting him would cause pain unto herself and heartache that she was not sure she could bear. Life had taken a tragic turn of events for her, it was almost as if she was being punished for her deceit. She decided she would feign illness the next day and would remain in her room. She didn't think she could face the world at the moment.
* * *
Tomorrow was the competition, and both Legolas and Landir had decided to spend the day in practice. Legolas however was troubled. Twice he had gone to visit Arwen in her chamber, and both times she had refused to see him, claiming to not be feeling well. He was not sure if she was actually ill or just didn't want to see him. Her chambermaid seemed equally as baffled at her sudden 'illness', although she didn't actually make a comment. As he loosed off his arrows again and again, his mind kept returning to her, to their last encounter in the courtyard. He imagined that he could still taste her sweetness in his mouth; every part of him longed to see her, talk to her, touch her. But having broken through the barrier she had in place, it seemed like he was back on the wrong side of it. Landir was fortunately oblivious to everything he was thinking and just seemed to assume that Legolas was still musing over the fact that Arwen seemed to want to spend more time with him than with his elder brother, causing him great satisfaction of course. He recalled the conversation that had taken place at breakfast.
"You look troubled, brother. I hope nothing is clouding your concentration for the competition tomorrow. I want to have some kind of challenge to fight against."
"I assure you Landir, I will be on full form to challenge you."
"Well, I have obviously been having various distractions recently, so my practice time has been somewhat shortened. But I do not think that will leave me at a disadvantage, I didn't need much practice anyway."
At least he is unaware of what happened the other night, for I fear that would not do much to make him feel more pleasantly towards me, he thought. He was, however, pleased with the way his practice was going: the arrows were all finding their mark and his speed shooting was greatly improved. He had found out recently that this year he would also be required to fire off five sets of two arrows at a time. This was not something he had ever really learnt and he had been giving it a lot of time. He was now eloquent in the skill and found it quite rewarding to see the two arrows slicing through the air, perfectly parallel, to embed themselves in the centre of the target. He knew that he needed to resolve the situation with Arwen before the competition or he would never be able to concentrate, but how could he see her? She took her meals in her room and he couldn't just walk into her room uninvited. Unless of course, she isn't awake to refuse me entry, he thought. If he was to go in while she was asleep, then wake her up, the most she could do, would be to send him away, but it was more likely that she would admit defeat in the face of such persistence. He resolved to steal into her room late that night and confront her. He felt a peace overcome him as he made up his mind, and he resumed his practice, hearing the thuds of Landir's arrows hitting their targets on the other side of the wall.
* * *
Arwen was worried greatly about Alarien. She claimed to be feeling ill, but yet she would not allow the healers to come to her aid, claiming that she only wanted Arwen. There was obviously something troubling her that she wished to hide from, but Arwen could not (and would not) pry and if Alarien didn't want to tell her, then there was nothing much she could do except go along with her and give her counsel when she asked for it.
* * *
Alarien herself languished in her bed. She was greatly troubled, more so than Arwen, even with her great perceptiveness had picked up, though she was making a valiant effort to hide it. Being separated from Legolas was hard enough, her whole being longed for him, but knowing that it was self inflicted solitude made the pain greater still. Knowing she was probably hurting him caused her almost physical hurt. She could hear him outside when she wandered down the corridor to stretch her legs, keeping well away from the windows. She could almost feel his presence when she looked out at the forest. It was as if he was a part of everything in Mirkwood. So far, her feelings for him had not diminished, but she hoped that her behaviour was having the desired effect on him. The time spent all day in her chamber felt like and eternity and for one, she was bored. She wanted to get out, but she knew he would find her, seek her out, if she strayed out of her chamber. Only there could she find solitude and safety from her emotions.
After taking a light supper with Arwen, they both retired to bed. For a long time, Alarien didn't sleep. She sat by the window, watching the stars and listening to the faint singing coming from somewhere in the palace. Sometimes she could hear Legolas' voice rising above the others, pure and sweet. After a while, she felt sleep overcoming her and she lay down and fell asleep, her chest rising and falling slightly with her rhythmic breathing.
* * *
Several hours after the rest of the household had gone to bed, Legolas was still awake, pacing around his room. Soon, soon it would be time. He was counting the seconds until he would see Arwen again, filling his mind with her vision. Never in his many years had he felt love like he felt for her. It engulfed him like flame, both invigorating and energising. Finally, he felt that he had waited long enough. Like a shadow, he went through the palace, taking the secret passages designed for the safe passage of the royal family, which avoided the guards. After some minutes he emerged in the corridor where her chamber was situated. Silently as a ghost he opened her door and went in.
She lay there, shrouded by the thin curtain around her bed, her dark hair fanned across the pillow, her emerald eyes glazed as she walked the paths of elven dreams. He moved over to where she lay and pulled back the curtain. He stood there for a minute and just watched her sleeping, unable to tear his eyes away. Somehow, in the depths of her sleep, she must have felt his presence, because she began to stir and he watched as she began to wake up. Suddenly realising that he would probably frighten her enough to make her cry out, he covered her mouth with his slender hand. Her eyes cleared immediately and her expression was one of shock, her eyes wide and scared, as they adjusted to the dark she saw who it was and reached up to move his hand away. Sitting up, she hissed,
"Legolas! What are you doing here? Are you mad? It's the middle of the night and I am unwell and need my rest. What do you want?"
"There's…there's something I have to tell you."
"What? Can't it wait?"
"No. I want to tell you that…I love you. I have loved you since I first saw you. If I can't have you, I…I don't know what I'll do." There was no answer from her for some time. She sat with her eyes lowered and he could feel that she was thinking. Her face turned suddenly cold.
"I'm sorry Legolas. But I…"Before she could finish, he had turned away. Without looking at her, he said in a pained voice,
"You're lying. I know you are."
"I'm not…" He turned to face her.
"Then tell me why you kissed me?" She stared at him, his sapphire eyes burning into hers. She flushed and looked away. He continued. "Tell me you felt nothing in that kiss and I will leave. Now." Still, she did not reply. Finally, wearily, she met his gaze.
"Yes. I felt something. A lot actually." Before she could say anything else he had leaned over and kissed her again, this time it was more passionate and urgent, as though he was trying to show her how much he felt for her. But after a moment, she pulled away, her hand on his chest to push him away. She sighed and looked away,
"Legolas, I can't. We can't. It just can't happen. " Confused, he began to question her but she held up a hand to stop him.
"I think you should leave now. Please, just go." With that, she turned her back on him completely; the small gesture causing him so much pain he could almost feel it physically. Humiliation and hurt swept in a wave over him.
"I will leave, as you wish." His voice suddenly cold and hard as stone, but his eyes filled with pain, he left the room. But as he reached the door, he turned and sent one final, cutting reply.
"I meant what I said, I cannot deny my own feelings. It surprises me that you can." With that he was gone.
* * *
As he returned to his room, Legolas could hardly see, his blue eyes blinded by the bitter tears that threatened to flow if he did not maintain control. He walked quickly, his fists clenched so tightly the knuckles were almost white. Reaching his chamber he went in and shut the door behind him. He walked over to his window and leaned his smooth forehead against the cool stone. He angrily brushed his hand over his eyes, feeling the moisture on his fingers but not acknowledging it. The pain of his rejection had pierced the very core of his being. It was so potent that he found it hard to breathe, and he pushed his pale, silky hair out of his face. He was so confused, she had said she felt something when they had kissed, but she had made it clear, crystal clear he thought bitterly, that she wanted nothing to do with him. What had he done wrong? Nothing, he hadn't done anything wrong. How could it be wrong if it felt so right? He knew she feels the same otherwise she wouldn't be so obviously lying. Absorbed in thought he went over to lie on his bed, stretching out his long-limbed figure. He lay back, cradling his head in his arms, and tried to rest his mind. After a while, sleep overcame him and his eyes closed.
A/N: Love it? Hate it? Let me know.