Disclaimer: See chapter one
Author's note: Special super thanks to Letylyf, Anna Arkadyevna Karenina, and all my other reviewers for keeping me going. I appreciate it! : )
"Tell all the truth but tell it slant-
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise
As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind-"
Emily Dickinson
Chapter Nineteen
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I'm not sure where to begin to organize my scattered thoughts.
At the beginning, I suppose.
Ever since the War of the Ring ended, peace and prosperity thrived among those elves that chose not to sail to Valinor. Soon, the proud, noble, legendary race of the elves will diminish, quietly fade into musty, watermarked textbooks among other map-breath'd ancestors.
I would go, slip in to a quiescent, halcyon existence where my nerves would be at rest, frayed no more by things that must seem so petty to those who have seen great battles, survived arrow wounds, lived through the darkness that threatened to seep into every corner.
But I would leave something undone behind.
I have not lived fully, not known love, not fought in wars… but that is not what keeps me.
There is a piece of myself that I have yet to discover, like a chip missing on a fine china plate – incomplete, unfinished.
For this I'll wait, and for the sake of those not avenged.
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As morning cracked blindingly bright over the snow-glimmered horizon, Fiothiel dressed quickly and returned to where she had sat the night before, where hopefully the dagger still lay. She made her way down the twisting staircases, built outdoors and right into the looming cliff faces. As the garden came closer, Fiothiel felt her breath strangle tight in her chest, and blood rush a little faster through her veins. Blinking rapidly to try and clear her mind, she stepped into the garden, anticipatory.
Countless imprints mangled the once smooth white plane of snow, and after quickly scanning the area, she found no dagger.
Someone had slipped in unnoticed, and trampled furiously around the clearing, obviously trying to cover tracks. Fiothiel dropped to her knees, and discovered that all of the imprints were from the same, rather small, shoe.
Resisting the urge to scream and tear at her hair, Fiothiel tried to follow the heavy footfalls of her mysterious enemy, but the pattern was so erratic she could uncover nothing.
Wait…
She turned slowly, and looked at her own footsteps.
There were none.
Her breath snapped out a frozen gasp as she turned and ran back towards the palace.
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"Elrohir! Elrohir, come quickly!"
Pausing in his conversation, Elrohir turned to the glass-paned window and saw Fiothiel, hissing a sharp whisper as she beckoned furiously. Slightly amused, he turned back to his companion, and spoke.
"It seems I have a visitor- excuse the interruption."
Across from him, Legolas raised his eyebrows in interest, asking a silent question.
Elrohir paused, then addressed his curiosity. "We may as well both go, it seems to be something of importance."
He nodded, and they both rose.
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Standing expectantly in the main hallway, Fiothiel seemed rather surprised at the appearance of two elves; one dark, one fair.
"I need you to help me with something- a quick favor."
They both nodded, and followed her out to the secluded garden. Quickly she recounted her tale: the dagger, the footsteps, the missing clues. She led them to an unblemished sheet of snow, its crystals catching the sunlight and flashing the dark from their eyes, a snow-smile.
Fiothiel gestured towards the snow. "Walk."
Elrohir motioned for Legolas to go ahead, and he stepped up onto the white and walked in a circle, feeling slightly foolish.
Elrohir and Fiothiel joined him, walking slowly across the snowbank. Eager for answers, Fiothiel dropped to her knees and examined the footsteps of all three, hers slightly smaller. Footsteps they could hardly be called, for they made barely an imprint on the very tip-top dusting of the snow…
Grinning triumphantly, she waved a long arm towards the garden.
"No elf could have done that unconsciously! Those footsteps are not those of an elf,"
Legolas finished her winding trail of thought.
"A human."
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