On with the show.

Chapter 5

**********

"I do hope that 'tis only a deer," panted Aravad, running behind Caradir as they followed the direction of the arrow. "Why must you say that there was a deer?"

"I was examining your reflex. Obviously, you lacked of it!"

"Why did you not say you were to examine my reflex? 'Tis MY reflex, you must ask permission before you can do anything to it!"

They were silent for a moment as they continued to jog. Then Aravad heard Caradir's mutterings indistinctively. She caught a few phrases like "the King will have my head" and "the shame of all my kins." Her spirits sank low. It was all her fault. She had to sway Caradir to teach her archery. It was so imperative to prove to everyone that she was not just an orphan living in the King's house. `Twas my selfishness, she thought. This was entirely my fault. And if it was just a deer, it was still Caradir's responsibility, as it was his bow and arrow. The King would punish him for sure. If her spirits could have sunk any lower after this, it did.

At last, they reached the bushes where the arrow had gone. They heard whimpers behind it. The bushes reached up to Aravad's neck, but it was difficult to see over the other side. They halted, and Caradir, cast one last glance at her, went behind the bushes to aid the poor creature. Her eyes followed Caradir anxiously and saw that the colors on his face drained as he stared upon whatever it was in the other side. He quickly disappeared, leaving her marveling alone. She gulped and slowly followed Caradir's trail. A sobbing noise grew louder and louder as she got closer.

"Don't fret, he is still alive," she heard Caradir's reassurance. She halted for a moment and peeked out from behind the bushes. Caradir was bent over an *gulped* unconscious body, his hand checking the body's pulse.

"Someone shot an-an a-arrow out of nowhere!" sobbed a voice. Aravad recognized that voice. She walked closer and found Criselda sobbing in front of Caradir. "Who could have done such a deed?"

Realizing that she was still holding Caradir's bow and quiver, she threw them behind the bush and walked next to Caradir.

  "Ah, so it WAS Aravad who had shot Legolas!"

  "Thank you for pointing out the obvious, Rosie."

"Well, he is unconscious for now, but he will be all right," continued Caradir.  "The wound is far from his heart."

"I must say! It has to be a foiled assassination attempt!" exclaimed Criselda, eyes still brimmed with tears.  "Someone wants the Prince dead!"

"Please," scoffed Aravad, still standing over Caradir, "an assassination attempt? Who would want Legolas dead?"

At these words, Criselda had stopped crying and raised her left eyebrow, "Do you really want me to answer that question?  Anyway, I have every right to think so.  The arrow used here was clearly Silvan.  Moreover, the ones used by a soldier... " she had trailed off and looked at Caradir and then at Aravad and back, as if piecing something together.

"Ah, the arrow had dug deeper through his, erm, bottom than I thought.  I cannot get it out without hurting the Prince," said Caradir, standing up.  "We must get him to a healer.  I know one that lives close here.  Quickly, you must both help me."

"Nay, Caradir!" exclaimed Aravad. "You do not know how Legolas weighs! Why, he could weigh as heavy as an oliphant!"

"You have not much choice, Aravad," said Caradir sternly.  "After all, you are part of this incident as much as I am."

"I wonder," said Criselda, "of all places you two could be in but you were just a few feet away from here during this incident.  It was as if you two are-"

"Oh, do stop that sentence before you complete it.  What are you implying? That I had something to do with all this?"

"So you admit it, eh? You have planned this with Caradir as your associate!"

"That is nonsense! I would never kill anyone, even if it were someone like Legolas.  I shall never claim a life."

"Ladies, please, stop bickering.  It is imperative that we bring His Highness to the healer."

"Will my darling Legolas die?"

"No, of course not.  Aravad, please retrieve my things from behind that bush.  No one must see that we are carrying an unconscious prince.  It would draw far too much attention.  We shall carry him in this picnic cloth.  I reckon it shall hold.  Now, the both of you help me carry the cloth at either end.  Carefully now, we do not want to drop him."

With that, Aravad gathered Caradir's bow and quiver of arrows and hoisted them on her back.  Taking the right side of the cloth, Criselda held the hand of the sleeping prince, and they all set out, with Caradir in front, to the healer's house.  Aravad walked silently behind Caradir and tried as much as possible to avoid contact with the Prince.

  "I have one question, Uncle."

  "What is that, Frodo?"

  "Has Criselda found out that it really WAS Aravad who shot Legolas?  Because if she hasn't, then this lady is not really all complete in the head, if you know what I mean."

  "Frodo! Save your questions and analysis till after the story."

  "Analsis, Elanor, big word."

Criselda looked back at the clearing.  The basket full of food and flowers and utensils and such were scattered all over the ground.  Pity, such pity, she thought, to waste all that food and preparation for nothing.  I swear if I ever find out who had shot my poor, defenseless Legolas, that person shall never see light again.  She looked at Aravad and felt a swell of anger, for she knew that somehow Aravad was involved in this.  Any ill tidings occurring under the house of the King, Aravad must be involved in all of them.  Criselda noticed a glint of feather in the sun at the back of Aravad.  She looked closer and noticed that the same shimmering feather matched with that found on Legolas! She gazed at the both feathers and concluded that they were alike.  Suddenly, anger fumed at her chest, and her lip quivered uncontrollably. 

"You! You did this to Legolas! I knew it! You cold-blooded killer!" she shouted and pointed at Aravad.  She almost lost grip of the cloth.  They all stopped abruptly.

"Milady, what are you talking about?" inquired Caradir.

"Aye, what ARE you babbling about? I am not a killer.  Haven't we established that back there?"

"The arrow on Legolas and those arrows on your back, they are the same.  Do not tell me you had nothing to do with this because the evidence is clear.  When the King finds out about this, which he will, I will make sure that you never live in this kingdom or any elven kingdom ever again!"

Aravad turned pale.  "Now, Criselda, do not get irrational.  `Twas an accident, I did not mean to shoot the arrow on his ass.  Honest!  Don't jump into conclusions."

"And how can I not?  Valar knows that you harbor great amount of hatred against the Prince.  How could we not know you are not capable of terrible things?"

"Milady, please, you must desist. You are in distress. Let us just get the Prince to a healer first then those who claim responsibility claim them later.  We must go on."

All were silent for quite some time and continued to walk towards the healer's house.  Again, Criselda had broken the silence by saying, "And what if the arrow was poisoned? Oh, we must go faster!"

"For pity's sake, Criselda, there is no poison, no foiled assassination attempt, and no boiling hatred for Legolas!" exclaimed Aravad.  "Well, maybe some boiling hatred for Legolas, but none of the other ones, I swear."

*          *          *

At last they have all reached the healer's house without drawing attention from the citizens of Mirkwood.  They had struggled to climb up the stairs to the healer's house.  Panting, heaving, and sweating, the two ladies and the unconscious Legolas finally reached the house. Caradir already headed before them to summon the healer.  Criselda knocked on the door and was greeted by the healer's wife.  With the aid of the healer's wife, the sleeping body was placed on a feather stuffed bed with beautiful, golden hangings and carved wood headboard and bedposts.  Legolas lay on his chest while the healer's wife went behind a curtain to get her husband.  Criselda pulled up a chair and sat next to Legolas, with her hand on his.  Aravad paced up and down the room and fiddled with her fingers, occasionally glanced nervously at Legolas.  Finally, Caradir and the healer had entered the room and went over where Legolas lay. 

"Hmm... I see, yes, hmm..." examined the healer as he looked over the arrow.  "Definitely deep, yes, definitely.  And how did you say this happened?"

Aravad opened her mouth to answer, but Caradir spoke first, "Erm, I had missed the target during a training session.  Clearly an accident that I take full responsibility of."

Aravad made a small noise at the spot she stood.  The healer eyed Caradir for a full minute and said, "Well, of course, as you know, the King must be notified of his son's condition.  As for your state, Caradir, I, of course, have no idea what will be next.  As of this moment, a messenger has been sent to inform the King of the Prince's situation."

"Will you take the arrow out any time soon?" inquired Criselda impatiently.  "I think he suffered more than he should."

"Well, milady, I can certainly tell you that he would not die of this arrow.  The arrow is too far from his heart or vital organs.  As soon as I take it out, he will be good as new.  Morianas, my arrow remover, please, if you will."

Morianas, the healer's wife, handed him a large pliers.  Everyone watched intently as the healer, bent over the lower area of Legolas, gently place the pliers around the arrow, so it was gripping it.  Ever so slowly, the healer pulled out the arrow and placed on a silver tray.  He put the tray away as his wife pulled Legolas's trousers down and put balsam, or ointment, over the punctured wound.  The sweet aroma of the balsam filled the room and had greatly calmed the atmosphere of it.  The three watched as Morianas turned the Prince over and softly set the covers on top of him.  They were all silent as Morianas left the room to put the balsam away.  Aravad continued to pace the room, while Criselda lightly stroke Legolas's head, and Caradir just stood against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. 

There was a light knock on the door and was immediately opened by a tall, stern-looking elf.  He was followed by another elf similar to his poise and then the King himself, looking a bit distrait.  He strode quickly to the bed and placed his hand on his son's forehead. 

"Who has done this?" he broke the silence and looked around the room.  No one dared to answer him.  "Who has done this?" he repeated, without a hint of emotion in his voice.

"I did it, Sir.  I take full responsibility of everything, Your Highness," said Caradir, who now stood up straight and his hands on his sides like a true soldier.

"Caradir? You shot my son on the bum?"

"As silly as it might sound, My Liege, I had."

"But why?"

"It was an accident.  I thought I heard something move in the bushes.  Without thinking or hesitating, I had fired.  It was all my fault."

King Thranduil thought for a moment and spoke.  "Well, Caradir, you know what must happen now-"

Aravad could not contain it much longer.  "Sir, Your Highness, King Thranduil, Sir, Lordship, it was not Caradir's fault–not entirely.  It was mostly my fault.  I fired that arrow and shot Legolas's ass–er, I meant bum."

King Thranduil furrowed his brows.  "Aravad, you need not take cover for Caradir."

"Yes, you need not.  You do not even know how to handle a bow, yet alone fire with one," said one of the King's escorts. 

"You would be quite surprised on what I could do," mumbled Aravad, but with a louder voice, she said, "Caradir is covering up for me.  I forced him to give me archery lessons again.  Though it was against your will, Your Lordship, but I do not know what I was thinking.  Caradir refused at first but I had beseeched him till he agreed.  I was not aware of our surroundings and in avertedly shoot an arrow towards a brush.  I apologize greatly, Sir, and I swear I shall never do it again. I understand if you do not wish to see me in your House again, as I have wronged you for the umpteenth million time."

Criselda was glaring at Aravad as she had finished.  The King pondered the situation for a moment.  Aravad hardly breathed and Caradir was still standing like a statue.

"Well, it seems clear to me that no great harm intentionally or accidentally was done to my son, though I am quite disappointed that this had occurred."  He sighed and continued, "Aravad, I for one, am severely disappointed at you for breaking the rules yet again.  I had told you twice, nay, many more times that I truly do not want you handling weapons of any kind.  However, you have deliberately disobeyed me yet again.  I suppose I shall punish you.  As I said, nothing of the serious sort has been done to my son, you shall receive three weeks of kitchen duties and you shall help around here in the healer's house, running errands for him, cleaning, and the lot.

"As for you, Caradir, I am disappointed at you also.  As a Captain of a mighty Silvan army, you are entitled to be responsible and dependable at all times.  If you are easily swayed by a she-elf, then who knows what you could do if you were swayed by an orc or a savage.  In the other hand, you have proven yourself worthy many times.  I do not want to you to think that you must save and cover for Aravad at all times, as you will not always be there for her.  I have decided to put you on probation till further notice.  That means no moving without your commander's permission, understood?" Caradir nodded. "All right, Captain, return to your post.  Aravad, your punishment starts tomorrow.  Now go to your chambers and rest, for you must start early tomorrow."

Aravad bowed low and started to walk out of the room when there was a noise and Criselda stood up. 

"Your Highness, that is it?  That girl nearly killed your son! She should be punished severely! She hates Legolas and we all know it.  Why not banish her forever?"

"Are you undermining my decisions, Criselda?  As far as I am concerned, I am the King and you are a Lady.  Now, go to your chambers and leave me be with my son for a moment.  That goes the same for all of you."

  "Ohhh...Harsh."

*          *          *

(Frodo:) It had been more than a week since the accident, and Aravad and Caradir were still under their respective punishments.  Everything seemed ordinary again in Mirkwood, though it was apparent that all the citizens, mainly the females, had found out about Legolas and flocked to the Healer's House to visit him or send him flowers or the like.  The Prince obviously had enjoyed the attention and despite the fact that he was already well, Legolas continued to pretend he was still injured.

Meanwhile, Aravad had developed callouses– (Back to reality for a moment)

 "Unky, what are callooses?" asked young Faramir, sitting up from his bed.  All were quiet.  Young Frodo got up from his bed and whispered in Faramir's ear.  Faramir's face grew wide with disgust.  "Eww...Disgusting, Unky."

  "Exactly," replied Young Frodo firmly. 

(Back to elf land)

(Frodo:) Aravad had developed several huge, hard..."Unky stop!" erm...callouses on her hands from her kitchen duties.  According to the King's orders, she was to "help out within the kitchen halls as she can," but the head of the kitchen also despised Aravad without any reason and took matters to her own hands.  Aravad was ordered to wash all the utensils, dishes, pots, pans, and so forth, scrub the Great Hall's floor, and set up (and clear away) the table for the meals.  After she had done these jobs, she was to go to the Healer's House to run errands for the Healer.

  "Wow, that's heaps of punishment to do. One time I set a bunch of bees free at ol' Tommy Longfoot's yard when he was pruning his gardenias, Mama made me scrub every window in our house," said the young Frodo sadly.

  "Well, if you do the crime, you do the time," remarked Rose sternly.

  "When I ated all the honey from Mama's cupaboard, Mama maded me go to my room and maded me skipped dinner.  But Papa camed in my room later and gave me food," said Faramir, with a grin playing at the corners of his lips.

  "Nobody could be as bad as you, Faramir," said Elanor.

And Criselda, whose anger and hostility towards Aravad grew ten times worse after the incident, was "coincidentally" ever so present to torment Aravad miserably.  Whilst in the middle of her scrubbing pots or sweeping the Great Hall floor, Criselda and her group of friends would be around to drop an insult or two or three or four...Well, you get the idea...

One day, when Criselda felt particularly hostile, she went to one of the kitchens behind the Great Hall where Aravad was peeling potatoes for the night's supper.  She walked in with her usual air of haughtiness and grace.  She headed to the baskets full of fruits perched atop the stone counters and started to pick fruits to give Legolas.  Careful not to be caught, she looked around to see if anyone was in the kitchen but only found a very exhausted Aravad in the corner next to a wooden table and a bucket in front of her peeling mounds and mounds of potatoes.  She snickered to herself and smiled wickedly.  She could not resist such temptation.  Quickly hiding the fruits in her belt around her waist, she strode towards Aravad.

"Well, well, well, look who had come to realization on what she truly is," drawled Criselda.  Aravad did not answer.  Criselda saw this as an opportunity to go on.  "If I were you, Aravad, which thank the Valars I am not, I wouldn't stick myself to where I am not wanted.  It is no use wasting your time trying to prove something that no one will care about."

Aravad tried hard to ignore the drawling voice of Criselda and concentrated on the potato skins.  However, she could not.  Tiny beads of sweat formed on her forehead and rolled at the sides of her face as she peeled faster and faster. 

"Just accept the fact that you are just a stray that landed on the King's lap," Criselda chuckled.  "Forever going to await next to him and feed from his scraps that fall from his table.  And if you're lucky, he might even keep you permanently!"

Clunk.  Aravad dropped her knife and potato.  She looked up at Criselda; her eyes flashed daggers.  "I am not a stray," she said through her gritted teeth.  "And if I was to be compared to one, I know I work for the 'scraps' that are fallen to me.  Not like some full-bred who just take whatever she likes even if she had not worked for it or even had the decency to ask." With that she got back to her potatoes, and leaving Criselda standing there, dumbstruck.

"Surely you are not talking about me."

"If the glove fits, then wear it."

Criselda's lower lip twitched a bit.  She turned on her heel and quickly marched out of the kitchen, leaving Aravad smirking slightly to herself. 

 *          *          *

A light, cool breeze blew into Aravad's face as she stood outside an old Elvish lookout atop a tree.  The lookout was made out of toughest wood (like everything else in the kingdom), could only fit one or two person and was used to welcome or inspect the incoming travelers that entered the forest kingdom.  Since the kingdom had expanded, it was no longer in used and became part of the King's Royal Garden (where Legolas and Aravad studied).  This was one of Aravad's favorite places.  It was small, secluded, and on top of a tree that surely no one would ever spot her.  She leaned against the railings of the balcony and let the wind cooled her face as she watched millions and millions of stars that twinkled in the night sky.  She was incredibly exhausted with all the cleaning, cooking, and scrubbing she had to do.  Not to mention all Legolas's fake moaning of pain and exaggerated accounts of what really had happened that day he got shot by an arrow.  Some versions told of a dozen hunting orcs came and rushed to attack him, whilst others told of a ring of endless power that had been dropped into his lap and was told by the wisest elves to protect it from vile creatures.  However, all versions seemed to lead up to Legolas single-handedly killed all the evil things while only had one wound–the one on his bum.  While Legolas told his daily visitors about his "heroic" occurrence in the woods, Aravad had to endure the temptation to poison his drinking goblet or just stab him with one of the bedpost.

She heard something stirred in the nearby brushes.  Her ears pricked for another sound, but there was none.  Finally, she straightened up her gown and turned to leave the lookout when a pair of illuminating silver eyes staring down at her.

She let out a shriek.  A pair of hands grabbed both of her elbows.  "Aravad, wait, it's just me, Caradir."

She stopped wriggling and finally recognized the eyes and voice.  "Caradir! You gave me a fright!"

"I am truly sorry.  I have been looking all over for you.  What are you doing, anyway? Planning to become a Royal Guard?"  Since he found out that his probation would be lifted in a couple of days, he had been friendlier and became more of himself to Aravad.  Aravad took this as a sign that Caradir had forgiven her.   

"I am just getting some fresh air.  Working at the kitchens can be very stifling."

"Hmm...Yes, well..." trailed Caradir, not knowing what else to say.  They both looked out from the balcony and saw a couple entered in the glade below them.  The couple did not notice that they were not alone in the glade as they walked hand in hand.  Both shone brightly against the moonlight and seemed to have given a soft light to everything that crossed their path.  They had stopped at the tallest tree in the glade and stood there facing each other–truly sharing a lovers' night of romance.  Aravad scowled, she recognized them immediately–

 "Criselda and Legolas!"

  "I could not have said it better than myself, Rosie!" giggled Elanor.

  "Girls..." muttered young Frodo under his breath.

"I can't even begin to start on how I loathe both of them so much," said Aravad with a voice dripped with disdain.

"Don't say that-"

"But I do!  I mean, they make my life more miserable than it already is," she grunted.

Caradir chuckled uncomfortably.  "Miserable?  No elf is ever miserable, Aravad.  Perhaps the only misery you feel is hatred you yield on them.  If you try really hard to ignore Criselda and Legolas, then you would be a lot happier."  Aravad gave me a repressive look.  "Well, at least you won't be thinking of them anymore..."  They were both silent for moment.  Caradir racked his brains in an attempt to revive a more animated conversation with Aravad.  As if a light bulb–

 "Uncle, what's a light bulb?"

  "I don't know...It seemed like the perfect word to use.  I do not even know what it is."

–light bulb lit on top of his head, he came up with a perfect topic to talk about. 

"Aravad!  I just realized that your day of birth is just a week away.  What are your plans for that day?  I am certain that you are very excited, are you not?"

Aravad scoffed.  "Excited?  More like dreading it.  How convenient that it is on the same day as the Prince of Mirkwood's day of birth!  Everyone in the whole of Mirkwood will be rejoicing and celebrating for him.  As for me, I'll be cast aside to be greeted by the people who would care enough to know that I exist."  Not bearing to stay and watch the two lovebirds perched benignly at the foot of the tree, conversing and kissing, she turned around to climb down the lookout. 

"That's not true.  I shall greet you, and other people will," he commented as he followed her down the narrow ladder, which could only fit on person at a time.

Aravad scoffed softly again.  "Aye, you and Ludaviel and the King, of course.  That is, if he is not hot-blooded about me anymore."

"It will not only be us, Aravad.  Other elves know it will be your birthday."  He finally reached the ground and jogged to catch up with Aravad.  They strode the opposite direction of the way the couple came in. 

"Nay, they do not," Aravad retorted.  They saw an elf coming towards them.  "Observe this."

The elf was a foot from them when Aravad called after him.  "Good evening, sir.  Pray tell, who would have their birthday a week from tonight?"

The elf thought for a moment and then answered, "Ah, why it's the Prince's day of birth, of course."

Aravad gave Caradir a satisfied look.  "Thank you, sir.  Good night."  And the elf started off again. 

"Did I not tell you?  Some people don't even know I exist."

"That is not the truth.  Besides, that is only one elf.  I am sure you can find one that would know it is your birthday too."

Surprisingly, another elf–a she-elf–came walking their way.  Aravad took this as a sign to conduct her experiment again.  "Excuse me, milady, good evening.  Pray tell, do I look a bit familiar to you?"

The she-elf squinted her eyes at her.  "Hmm...Are you the nice little elf who sold me all those cookies and baked goods for half their worth?  Oh, they were quite delicious.  Not to mention scrumptious!"

Aravad furrowed her eyebrows.  Caradir fought hard not to laugh out loud.  "Nay, I do not know what you mean about cookies or baked goods.  But can you tell me who shall celebrate his day of birth in a week?"

"No doubt it shall be the Prince of Mirkwood, dear.  Don't you know that?" said the she-elf.

"No one else's?"

"Of course!"

"All right then, thank you."  

She turned to Caradir, who frowned.  "So that is two, not the whole lot of Mirkwood.  Why do care so much about people knowing that it is also your birthday, anyway?"

"I do not care," she grumbled, kicking a pebble and started off again.  "I just simply what to get into your head that I hardly exist in this forest."

"And?  What of it?" asked Caradir, a bit confused.  "Being popular is not all that its cracked up to be, Aravad.  Just like the King, he's famous, but he has a lot of responsibilities."

"Look at Legolas, he seems to be enjoying the limelight."

"And so he is.  But must you compare him with you all the time?"

"Why not? Everyone always does.  I am just tired of being cast aside like some grubby old cloth.  I want to be known as someone special too.  'Tis not about popularity, 'tis about being accepted.  After all, I never have been yet.  It is sort of a wish for me.  I'm still waiting for that day."

Both of them remained silent most of the way to Aravad's chambers.  Caradir could not find the words to tell his friend so he had quieted.  Aravad wished to be left alone with all her thoughts till she reached her bedchamber.  As they reached the steps that led towards it, Caradir, who's always the gentleman, stayed at the bottom of the steps and bid her a goodnight.

"Just remember, Aravad, it is not up to everyone to accept you.  It is up to yourself who can accept you or not," he paused and then added, "Not many people might care for you, but it is the quality not the quantity that counts."

He bowed lightly and waved farewell before turning to disappear in the darkness.