LOVE'S CHANCE AT FATE
PLEASE REVIEW SO I CAN POST THE NEXT CHAPTER!! I WOULD REALLY APPRECIATE IT ^_^
**AHEM** Please don't sue me for changes in plot lines, the use of Tolkien's world, or Elvish translations. Word translations made possible by:
So please don't sue me. I CITED!
Chapter 13: Won or Lost?
The faint smell of sage.
Hay ceiling.
Wood boarded walls.
Vilisse opened an eye. She tried to sit up, but found her muscles not willing to comply.
"Ugh..." She grunted. Looking around, she could tell she had not been here very long. On top of her bedside table, there were white hand-picked wild flowers, no doubt from Mr. Butterbur and Jenna. After all, they were the closest to her in this little town, aside from Lessie. They didn't know who she was, or that she was an elf. 'Or do they?' She wondered. She looked to her stabbed arm, which was wrapped up in a white gauze that had been soaked through with her blood. She began peeling it off, but a sound from across the room made her stop.
"Tisk tisk, Daughter of Lord Huore and Lady Elwen Arandur."
She knew that voice. Vilisse looked around at who was speaking. There across the room sat the Prince himself. She had not noticed him there, he had been so quiet. Sighing heavily, she sat back on her pillow, closing her eye.
She had lost.
It was over. 'But what had happened?' She pondered as the previous night's nightmare came back to her. Vilisse looked at Legolas no longer with contempt.
"I thought they would have given me up for dead by now." She stated more than asked, in a monotone voice. He paused.
"Lord Huore has. Lady Elwen has not, though she would try to convince everyone otherwise." He looked at her with concern. "How do you feel?" He asked, the image of how he found her, so vulnerable and weak coming back to him.
"I feel... like crap," she answered frankly. It was not the choicest of words, but Legolas couldn't blame her. "How did I get here?" She asked suddenly. "I don't remember much. How long have I been here?" Her hand went to her head and felt the scab over her forehead. Legolas stood and went closer to her, sitting on the end of her bed.
"Twas only last night that I brought you here. And that was almost eight hours ago." He followed her gaze to the flowers.
"Who-do they know?" She asked worriedly. Everything swam to her head all at once, the burning questions she had about what happened and who knew about it.
"Too many questions. You need rest, and answers will come soon enough. All is well now, rest awhile, and I will come back and tell you everything. I need a bit of rest myself." Legolas walked out of the room. In a few minute's time, the healers he had sent for came in to re-dress her wounds and calm her as best they could.
Outside the room, Legolas sighed, leaning against the door. How could he tell her what had happened? How he was not sure exactly how far the foul man went with her in the forest? How Butterbur found out about her true identity, how Legolas upon his honor had to tell him who she was? He shook his head as he heard shuffling inside the room. He hadn't imagined ever finding the strong elf etched in his memory in the way he had the night before. She might never want to see Prince Legolas again, after she knew what happened, and that he saw her in a way he shouldn't have. Legolas walked steadily down the corridor, out to his three elf companions.
"How fares the Vilisse? Is she well?" Asked Raien.
"Physically she will heal and her scars will fade. But it's her spirit that I worry for," responded the prince. His face was grave as he relayed the information he would have to tell her.
"Should we send word to her parents?"Raien asked, "Don't they have a right to know?"
"I would sooner take her to them myself. Though she has much explaining to do, she is of her own free will. We cannot force her to come with us." He gave them all stern looks. "I will not force her to do anything. The last thing she needs is someone telling her to go back home. She is worried enough. Give her a few days, as well as I, to weigh the options."
Inside, Vilisse had learned from the exiting healers what had happened to her. She was sure to have bruises for the beating she had received. Lucky for her, she hadn't been able to remember most of what happened. And if it weren't for the magic of the elven healers who had been specially called in by Legolas, she might have felt more burdened. But what kept running through her mind was that before her violator could take the final step, Legolas had shot him through the middle. He had found her just as that man had left her.
She was in debt to Legolas, she owed him her life. But he had also seen much of her she had not wanted anyone to see, which troubled her greatly. She could not help but feel extremely uncomfortable. No male, let alone her father when she was a baby, and now that thug, had ever seen her that way. Everything else that had boiled down to this moment of realization was what made her crack. She had been everything she tried so hard to resist being: Vulnerable. Weak. Dependant. Vilisse cradled her head in her arms. Sobs started out small, but grew as the recent events took a toll on her emotional measure.
A little while later, after resolving herself somewhat, she called for Legolas, who sat ready at her doorstep.
"Yes malady? You called?" He went to her, kneeling at the foot of her bed, concerned.
"Yes. I am sure that you are a valiant and noble elf. But this I must confess, and also ask you. I feel ... ashamed at what you must have seen. But I need to ask you, how you feel about it," she asked truthfully. Seeing the pain in her eyes, he answered just that.
"I felt nothing save anger at that man... and pity when I found you." Wanting to move on quickly, Vilisse continued.
"And for your good timing and my luck, I owe you my life." She bowed as low as she could on the bed without hurting herself. "I am... at your service, your highness, granted once I am well again." She brought her head back up. She had not wanted to say it, but on her honor she had to. Legolas had to admit he was somewhat taken aback that she had just said that.
"There might come a time for that, but now is not that time. You rest up. For if we are to see you on your feet again, then you will need your rest," he smiled warmly and left. Though slightly unsatisfied that he hadn't given her an answer for what he wanted her to do to repay her debt to him, Vilisse fell into a dreamless slumber.
Translations:
Vilisse: (meaning in Quenya) a person's "spirit", meaning his or her general personality and attitude.
Huore: Heart-vigor, aggressive in the ways of the heart (traditional spelled with two dots above the e, however my computer doesn't know the codes).
Istima: Knowledge, learned.
Elwen: Hearted- to have heart.
Arandur: A King's servant, Steward.
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