((Author's note: well, here's the next chapter. This one is the real chapter…yay! Okay…enough of the author's note, cuz I know you all are sooo eager to read…))
Disclaimer: I am not a man. I am not dead. So guess what? I'm not Tolkien. Therefore I own nothing.
This is dedicated to Phillip Stoner...who almost made me cry.
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Calm Before the Storm
The sun peeked through the curtains of Legolas' bedroom, its golden rays swept about the room, touching the soft materials and dark woods. The sky began to gain its rich blue color as a new day began again.
Legolas opened his eyes, surprised at how long he had slept. The sun was already a fair distance into the sky. He lay still for a moment, savoring the feel of the silky sheets and warm blankets that covered him. It had been long since he had slept upon anything so pleasant, so comfortable. A sigh passed his lips and he resisted the urge to drift off once again.
Pushing himself from the pillow and into a sitting position, he stretched out his stiff muscles. He glanced around the room, the night before he had only seen it in dull shapes and shadows. His clothes and weapons were still lying in a crumpled heap where he had carelessly thrown them the night before as he had staggered towards the bed.
Silently, he slid out from beneath the warm covers and pulled his worn shirt over his head. Legolas turned so he could see his figure in the full-length mirror a few feet away.
He wished that he had something more presentable to dine with the King of Men. Mournfully, he pushed his finger through one of the many holes in his shirt, and then further to touch his prominent ribs. Legolas made a face at himself. He had always been slim, but this was just ridiculous. His leggings were in worse condition, the thread-bare material hanging slack on his legs.
"Stop complaining," he reminded himself, his voice nothing but a mere whisper. "At least you made it here alive. For at times, even that seemed like an unhopeful dream."
Turning away from the mirror, he picked up his weapons and prepared to strap them upon his back. Then he paused. He was in safe territory. There would be no monsters to ward off this day. He set his bow and arrows back on the chair whence they had lied and simply strapped a long dagger to his waist.
He glanced at the sun. He had about an hour to make it down to the breakfast table.
A twinge of pain in his leg brought his gaze down to stare at he knew was the ragged mass of scars that ran from his knee to his foot, seeming to encompass all the flesh in a maze of burn marks and torn skin.
The sounds of fire assaulted his ears and he wondered why he had not smelled the smoke. Flames were leaping and dancing in the room around him and all he could see was orange and black as the fire devoured everything that he had called his own in the godforsaken country.
Covering his eyes against the burning acid, he felt the burning pain shoot up his back as burning embers were thrown against it. His breath came in raspy gasps as the smoke torched his sensitive throat and ate away at his lungs. A fit of coughing seized him and he was forced to double over.
Where was the exit? He still had time to get out. He still had time…
There was a shaky rumble and then an instant explosion from deeper in the house. Yet, he was still knocked over at the force of the blast. Wood pieces rained down on him and one fell upon his legs, sufficiently trapping him where he lay.
The nearness of the fire and the heat emanating all around him panicked the young prince and he pushed desperately at the boards. But it was no use, they were securely in place.
Then above him he heard the crack of boards and he felt the fear of death overcome him once again. Glancing upwards, he saw the ceiling begin to cut itself free of the iron nails that held it in place. In a desperate attempt to save himself, he threw his arms over his head and waited.
With a loud crash the jagged boards fell, sweeping him away in a haze of pain and agony until he knew no more.
Legolas gasped as the fire and pain faded, leaving him in a softly lit room with no fire in sight. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. His wide, scared eyes blinked back at him, his mused hair added to wild, disheveled appearance. He took a deep breath, fighting to calm his racing heart.
"You are safe here." He nodded at himself solemnly in the mirror. "There is no fire to reach you here."
Turning from the mirror, he went to the wash basin and splashed the cool water on his sweaty face. Running his fingers through his blonde hair, he patted the loose strands firmly in place.
Legolas snatched up his dark cloak from the floor and threw it over his shoulders, pulling the hood down over his face as to not be recognized by the casual observer. It also hid the boniness of his frame well.
He straightened his weary shoulders and walked out the door of his room and into the open corridor. There was still enough time to take a little walk on the palace grounds.
His feet carried him instinctively down the stairs and towards the center of the castle. He had seen a small courtyard there as he had crept in the evening before.
Ducking through a low doorway, he found himself in a lovely green area that was filled with trees, flowers, and gently running streams. There was no roof here and one could look straight up into the blue sky.
He felt the fear and stress begin to evaporate off of him as he moved through the plants, allowing himself to be swept away in their innocent beauty.
Pausing by a light waterfall, he allowed his fingers to trail through the clear, splashing water, relishing the feel of the coolness against his fingertips. Everything was so peaceful here.
He cocked his head slightly at the sound of a voice singing softly. The song was one of the more popular elvish songs and the singer seemed to know it quiet well. Following his ears, he crept into a small glen of flowers and grass.
She was sitting with her back to him and her long hair flowing in blonde, wavy tresses down her slim back.
Crouching in the underbrush, he watched as her body moved in almost imperceptible movements to the beat of the song. The winds brushed pass her hair, giving it an unkept appearance.
The song finished on a soft note and Legolas felt himself drawn imperceptible forward. He knew who this singer was.
"Your voice is very beautiful, mi'lady," he said softly, as not to startle.
She turned and stared at him with her light blue eyes. "I thank you for your compliment, good sir."
"The song, did you write it yourself?"
Shaking her head, she shifted so she could face him fully. "Nay. It was written by the elves many years ago. The words were taught to me in the past by a dear friend who was an elf."
"It compliments your voice." Legolas felt his entire body tremble with the façade he was playing, with the eagerness to fall into the lady's arms. "Tell me, what is your name?"
"I am Lady Eowyn, sir." She peered closely at him. "I seem to recognize your voice but from whence I cannot place it. Though it seems at once I knew it quite well. What is your name?"
Legolas moved closer to her, not responding.
She stood to her feet and moved back a step, trying to see under the dark hood. "Who are you?" Her eyes were growing wide and her breath seemed to be coming faster with each passing second.
"Do you not know?"
"Your voice, your movements, they remind me of someone I loved many years ago. But you cannot be he, for last I knew, he was dead." Eowyn moved backwards again. "Are you an elf?"
Legolas paused. "Aye. I have traveled many long years and am paying my respect to the new king of Gondor."
She reached out to touch his face, but he stumbled backwards. "Tell me," she whispered, "did you perchance to cross Prince Legolas of Mirkwood in your many travels?"
"Why does mi'lady wish to know?"
"That voice!" Eowyn cried. "You say it so much like the other one did, it makes my heart quiver with in my chest. If you have any news of him, please tell me, for I have waited many long years for news. Even if he is dead, I wish to know the truth. Please."
Legolas shook his head. "He is alive."
Eowyn's eyes closed for a moment and her shoulders sagged in relief. "Thank the Valar," she murmured. Then she lifted her eyes to the cloaked figure once more. "Does he still…" her voice trailed off.
Somehow, Legolas knew innately what it was that she wished to ask. "He still loves you as he did before." He took a deep breath; it was now or never. "And it is he who is standing before your eyes." Trembling, he reached up and removed the hood from his face, allowing her to look upon his face for the first time in many years.
Eowyn's hand flew to her mouth and for a moment everything stood still. Then she reached out one hand to touch the face before her. "It is true? Or has mine eyes and ears at last deceived me? So many months I have longed…"
Legolas reached up and encompassed her small hand with his, leaning into the caress. "It is me. I have come back to you just as I had promised that night long ago."
Eowyn stifled a sob that rose up to choke her in her throat. "It..it…is really you." She collapsed bonelessly into his arms, sobbing against his chest. "Legolas…"
Holding her tightly against his chest, Legolas stroked her hair as the tears began to creep to his own eyes. "I came back, Eowyn, see? Just as I promised you," his voice was choked with the pain from the years that he spent apart from her. "Oh, Eowyn. Never will I leave you again. I was so wrong to leave you. Forgive me." He sobbed sharply. "Oh, Eowyn…"
The sun shone a little brighter in the garden and the trees did their best to hide the two from the view of the world. They knew that this was simply the calm before the storm. They wanted to give these to a tiny bit of comfort, a tiny bit of solace, to look back on in the hard days and nights to come. For on the other side of the garden, a Lord Faramir was calling Eowyn's name.
((was that a cliffhanger? Oops…))
