Disclaimer: Contrary to popular belief my last name is not Tolkien… hard to believe I know
Chapter Seven
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Silence stretched for acres between them, words were useless, and all they would do was echo needlessly.
Feelings, however, ran rampant.
In some far corner of her mind, Fiothiel could not help but blame the prince for what had happened, if he had not been so childish as to drag her off to be punished, she could have prevented all this…
She chided herself for thinking such, but in a way, it told her what she wanted to hear; that the killer had been an intruder, not one that lived with them, ate with them… she shivered.
Legolas noticed this, seeing her bowstring quiver as she notched it. Her hands shook, and finally she pointed it down and shot it into the ground, surrendering to what she was trying to keep buried. Fiothiel turned her back, so he could not see the wretched expression on her face. Alarmed, he tried to think of ways to console her, but shame for bringing this upon her held him back. Minutes passed, and he spoke.
"Milady, I feel horribly for how I acted yesterday… it was an impulse, I considered it a game, but no game should play upon elven lives like this. I… I am partially responsible fo-…"
She cut his rambling trail of speech of quickly as she turned. "My lord, what happened yesterday should not be put to blame on anyone but they who held the knife in their hand. Indeed, dragging me off was unbelievably childish, but it is now behind us. Archery does not seem to be fitting as of now, perhaps we should move to something else?"
He tried to hide his grin as she brushed past him and walked towards the dueling grounds. All was not lost.
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For the second time in as many days, she had him pinned.
He held up his hands, trying not to look amazed and worried at the fury flashing in her green eyes.
"I surrender. And would you please try not to look so angry, it's quite disconcerting!"
Fiothiel threw her sword to the other hand and turned on her heel. It made him slightly angry to see how she treated this as another assignment, to be done with quickly, easily, and with such accuracy he wanted to scream. Although he was not letting himself go fully, he still could not get the upper hand. He knew that her biggest flaw was not being in control, not being able to execute things cleanly.
Which is why it so pained her not knowing who had murdered Celebrwien.
Though he did not know this, she twisted and shook in her bed at night, her mind aflame with the need for knowledge, nightmares that she thought never could pass their way through the wood gates of Rivendell. She shot upright in the early hours of the morning, cheeks flaming, eyes glassy, her golden brown hair twisted in waves falling down her back. She could feel heat radiating from her body, and one glance in the mirror confirmed her suspicions of illness. Fiothiel walked down to Anelith's bedroom, knocked once, and entered.
Anelith turned quickly, shocked at seeing her awake, and walking about the halls in nothing but a
nightgown.
"Good morning Ane, would you happen to know where my riding clothes are? I can't find them anywhere."
The handmaiden spoke. "No milady, I know not where they are… perhaps check behind your dresser? They may have fallen there by mistake."
Fiothiel nodded, and threw a thank you behind her shoulder.
Anelith turned back around, and breathed a sigh. She knew very well where the riding clothes were; she had used them herself, just last night.
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Fiothiel walked slowly towards the stables, trying to ignore the pain that rumbled through her body, pounding its way up to her head. She brushed her horse's muzzle lightly, and turned at the feeling of a hand upon her shoulder.
"I thought we could ride around the woods today, take a break from swordplay," her cheeks looked rosier than usual, and her eyes seemed to reflect his. "Are you sure you're feeling well, lady Fiothiel?"
She laughed, a sound he had never heard from her in their two weeks of acquaintance. "I'm fine, but I am no Lady, just a 'simple Royal Guard'," she cocked an eyebrow and mounted her horse, laughing no more. Legolas tried to recall the sound of her laughter, to put it to memory. He knew not when he would ever hear it again.
Hooves pounded grass, dirt kicking up in clumps from the cool ground. After roughly an hour of riding, they stopped in a glade, leaning back as each drank in the beauty of the forest. She shut her eyes, and he caught himself watching her, scrutinizing her every inch.
She was rather tall for a female elf, though he still stood a good two inches above her; he guessed she was about six feet even. She was slender, with neatly curved hips and chest. Lithe was a word that came to mind. Her hair was brown, laced with honey tones, falling in tangled waves down to the small of her back. Her skin was tanned, almost olive, highly unusual for an elf. Her neck was long and gracefully curved, as were her hands and fingers. A strong jaw, small, delicate looking ears. Rosy lips, the bottom lip fuller than the top. Small nose, high cheekbones, finely arched eyebrows, high forehead. Though she would not be called beautiful by elven standards, he found her almost exotic. It was her eyes that caught his interest, he could have sworn that they changed color as to her mood. When she was angry, they flashed a bright, captivating green, and when her mind was off somewhere else, they turned to placid pools of aqua blue. Framed by lush, dark lashes, they could spark interest, radiate sorrow, or flash fury.
His reverie was interrupted by her groan, and those eyes that could shoot daggers now snapped open. She moaned, and put a hand to her forehead. He felt a flash of concern, and asked her if she was well.
"What does it look like?" she snapped, and fought back waves of darkness and fatigue from her persistent nightmares. Was this to take over her days as well as her restless nights?
He glanced at her worriedly. "We'll go back now, but I am concerned as to how you will fare on a horse… you're sure that you can make it back?"
"I'm fine, my lord, just keep going, I shall ride behind you."
He nodded, and they were on their way. Legolas entertained the thoughts rolling through his mind, but was interrupted by a sickeningly loud crack that echoed through the glade. He turned; only to see Fiothiel's horse spooked, and her sprawled on the ground, her arm twisted at a disgustingly impossible angle.
In an instant he had her up on his horse, trying his best to not disturb her left arm. He rode quickly back, praying that she would wake… why did everything happen to her when he was near?
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