Disclaimer: check chapter one
Authors note: Ah, the joys of being sick! Thanks to some sweet form of a cold, I get to stay home and… dum dum dum… write!
To all who are worried about the Mary-Sue potential this story has, (eeek!) this story takes place after RotK, and is my interpretation of something that never seemed to happen in any of the books… a mystery/murder/problem within Rivendell. Romance just happened to sneak its sneaky little way into this, and will not, CAN NOT be the main focus of this story. Please yell at me if you feel Fiothiel is a Mary-Sue, or if you think I am getting "romantically" sidetracked.
By the way, I was thinking of changing the title/summary… any ideas? Drop a review if you think you have a good one… thanks!
Enjoy!
Chapter Eighteen
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Snow fit Rivendell well, like a sheet tossed up only to drape itself down in a gentle silence that compelled all within to speak softly, step gently.
Fiothiel watched this all from her window, inside her room. The small plane of Rivendell she watched was secure, untouched by elven feet. Snow covered lies, concealed secrets, hid flowers waiting to bloom when the first ray of sunlight warmed the fertile earth.
Sunlight had fled from this place long ago.
Down the winding hallway and to the right, another elf stood regally in front of a different window, watching the view on the other side. Memories of firelit nights plagued his mind, while hazel eyes haunted hers.
Neither of their thoughts were to be soon left forgotten.
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While the early hours of the morning still concealed most, Fiothiel slipped on her woolen cloak and stepped out into the surpressing chill. The halls were almost empty, but her shaking hand rested briefly on the dagger she had in her belt every time she turned a corner.
She stepped out into a snow-silenced garden, and smiled when she saw another gazing at the snow, hands behind his broad-shouldered back.
"Elrohir!"
She ran to him then, and he embraced her tightly as he laughed.
"Fiothiel, it has been too long since I have seen you! And what a sight to see…"
She drew back and grinned, her spirits instantly lightened at the mere glimpse of her old friend. His appearance reassured her, an unchanging boulder amidst crumbling foundations. Still strong, tall, and raven-haired, his euphoric smile she remembered fondly. His hands cupped her face gently, and he kissed her forehead lightly as she laughed.
"Indeed, it has been quite some time. You, however, look the same as always! Once a knave, always a knave."
He joined in her laughter, but drew silent as he gazed over her shoulder at the palace. "But all the same, I sense something has changed. Am I correct in assuming so?"
Fiothiel bit her lip and glanced down, furrowing her brow. "You are correct, and all too perceptive. This may take much more explaining than you have time to listen…"
Elrohir smoothed her forehead with his calloused palm, and smiled reassuringly. "For you, my comrade, I have all the time you need."
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Indeed, Fiothiel explained herself until the sun began to sink slowly behind the snow-encrusted trees. Tapers were lit along the garden paths, illuminating ten-pointed stars on the white canvas beneath. A soft yellow light reflected of their contemplating expressions, carving shadows under cheekbones and turning eyes into mirrors.
"It seems to me you have handled everything as I would have," said Elrohir, "but I know not what to do next. Apparently, there is naught we can do but accept who we have, unless something else presents itself."
A tortured emotion flitted briefly across her countenance, and Elrohir knew that these times were agonizing for her, a parallel dimension between reality and nightmare.
"I understand that this is quite a burden for you, with Isorfir taken, and Celebrwien and Corintur killed…"
He did not get to finish his attempt at comfort. Fiothiel whirled around, and placed both of her fists on his chest as he abruptly broke off his trail of speech.
"A burden? Is that all you think this is? I spend every moment of every hour that passes thinking on what has happened… It weaves through my every thought, every movement, even every gesture I make is not made without seeing Isorfir's pleading face through the iron bars."
"'Thiel, I'm sorry! That was inconsiderate of me… all I want to do is help you."
She turned away from him then, and spoke in a voice inundated with grief.
"Then leave me be."
He hesitated, then left the icicle-jeweled clearing, his once proud statue seemingly hunched.
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It was a stricken elf that sat alone on a snowy stone bench, the heat of her body melting the frozen crystals around her. She could no longer feel her fingers, but she knew that feeling was something she didn't need. Emotions spent, she stared blankly at the changing pattern of snowfall that danced before her.
She often wished she could go sail the seas without regret, without feeling like she had left something undone, a piece of her puzzle never found. What once kept her here; a love for her homeland, was torn into millions of scraps. It would be so easy to go, and never look back!
To go to the sea, where salty air brushed easily past your nose, sand dunes curve gracefully down to crystalline aqua tides, and the cry of gulls reassuringly echoes.
Echoes.
A muffled fall of snow snapped her back to attention, and she quickly stood.
"Who's there? Elrohir?"
She moved to look sideways as a hare dashed across the path, leaving oval footprints in the white.
Without warning, a dagger shot right past her face, missing her turned head by a hairsbreadth. She froze, and watched as it clattered noisily to the icy cobblestones.
Snow-dampened footsteps shot out of her range of hearing, and all was silent.
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