Disclaimer: look to chapter one
Chapter Eight^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
Whispers darted around corners and hid in spiderwebs, reaching curious ears that took them in, and lips that spread them throughout all of Rivendell. The visiting Prince had galloped full speed into the stables, holding tight to him a struggling Guard, the only female one at that. She was unconscious, and still she fought against his arms, tears pouring down her cheeks as she mumbled incoherently. She lay now in the room of the Healers, her feverish face and tangled golden hair a sharp contrast to the clean white of the sheets. When an elf was ill, it was known to all as a momentous occasion.
Legolas felt deeply disturbed whenever he was near her unconscious form, yet compelled to try and wake her, soothe her troubled mind. He had to hold her down when the healers set her arm, and he nearly felt sick himself, seeing her so passive, her fiery eyes shut closed while her mangled arm was twisted viciously back into place. Disturbance hovered around her, creating a misty cloud that made her hard to reach out to. Legolas knew what tormented her; he too had the same demons twisting through his conscious mind.
Nightmares rumbled through her mind, leaving behind earthquakes that left her crumpled, folded in on herself. He watched her for days, willing the apparitions that flushed her cheeks rosy pink to find another soul to torment. On the third day, as the sun rose, its reflection glinted in the aqua orbs he had prayed would open. Blue crashed upon blue as silence rang clear.
"Isorfir?"
A weak smile played upon his lips. "No, I don't believe so milady, although he is due to come back fairly soon."
Fiothiel blinked, midnight lashes brushing olive skin as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. He stood, and she stared up at him, her troubles frolicking with nightmares on the insides of her eyelids.
"Walk with me, Prince Legolas."
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The grounds were quiet, the sun having just broke over the trees that rimmed the horizon. Already it was pleasantly warm for autumn, but a crispness hung in the air, waiting patiently for when its time would come. Fiothiel walked ahead of Legolas, her ivory nightgown flowing behind her like a wispy cloud as she spoke softly, her voice husky and docile from her illness. She told him of her nightmares, her worries that Celebrwien was not to be the only one to be sent to an early grave. Words trickled from her mouth, reluctant and afraid of judgment. Legolas needed not to speak, even a simple word from her mouth carried such meaning that it filled any silence that might have followed.
"Never have I needed to be consoled, to be told things were at peace. I was always the first one to know that it was, solid in the notion that all things terrible could be kept outside Rivendell's walls. When something happened within, I feel as if I am trapped with a demon within impenetrable walls. I want nothing more then to pretend this never happened, as others have, but concealing this is something my spirit will not let me do…"
She trailed off, and turned to face him, her broken arm behind her back. "I know I am not alone in wanting to abolish this, for I was not asleep all of these three days. I saw you watching me, and noticed that I am not alone in my worries. Please, Prince Legolas, tell me that you will assist me, and that you want Rivendell safe again as much as I do."
Lost for words at the earnestness of this strong-willed maiden before him, hesitated before speaking. "I have met no one as perceptive as you, my lady, and would like nothing more then to see this avenged and the souls of the people quieted."
Fiothiel grinned widely, and without a word, threw her arms around his neck and spoke. "At first I doubted myself in asking you for help, but now I know I am justified in doing so… thank you!"
Caught by surprise, Legolas wrapped his arms around her waist, and breathed in her smell of comfort. Although he had been the one asked for assistance, he felt a sense of solace that had been gone for longer then he could remember.
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