Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is already owned. I am a huge fan of Phill Collins and his song 'Find a way to my heart' was just so 'written on Thûlocuil's body' (as we say in Dutch (op het lijf geschreven); so I used a bit of it as a motto for this chapter.
Cos you know, questions are never that easy
And never the same
But you have the answer believe me
If you have the faith
Phill Collins - Find a way to my heart
18. Conversation in the mist.
He could not lead her far enough away, Legolas realised as he stopped at the brink of the island, still within hearing range of the elves by the fire. He looked around, when he felt a tuck on his sleeve and silently she led him further into the marshes.
When she stopped they could still see and be seen by the watchmen. 'Sí aen avar lasto ammen' (Here they won't hear [listen to] us) Thûlocuil said. Legolas simply answered: "Maer." (Good)
"It is possible to sit down here," Thûlocuil said, already sitting down. "You just have to sit on these grassy polls, and you'll be fine." Slowly Legolas sat down beside her. There was a silence. Legolas had not thought she would come with him so willingly. And the strange thing was that now he had her here, to answer his questions, he did not know where to start. So many things he wanted to know, needed to know about her. Where should he start? He knew that asking the questions would not be the hardest thing. No, getting the answers would be the difficult part.
He looked at her. She was 'stargazing', something elves liked to do; it eased a troubled mind and gave one's thoughts a change to wander. But he felt much to tense tonight to ease his mind. He would just have to trust on his judgement of elvish character although he did not trust his insights completely when it came to her.
Softly he began to speak, and the reeds that had not heard elvish for ages, seemed to stretch just a little bit as if they were eavesdropping. "I believe that it was not some foolish attempt to escape, when that Uruk made a try at you. I believe he made that last move on purpose. What did you make of it?"
She kept looking at the stars but, much to his relief, she did answer his question: "I agree that it was an act of suicide. However, he did escape, didn't he?" she sighed: "He took the shortest escape-route there was, and we offered it to him."
"Was there something else we could have done?" Legolas asked.
Thûlocuil was surprised that the question did not sounded defensive, although she did commented his tactics and his decisions as a captain. No, it sounded like he had been thinking along this line himself and was eager to know what she had come up with. There was a sense of honesty and equality in his question. Maybe, she could try and be as honest as she could herself? The words faith or trust did not come to her mind. It had been thousands of years since those words had failed her, but somewhere on the brink of her subconsciousness a new feeling appeared, like the first rays of sun finally breaking through after a day full of rain.
When she spoke, it was in a determinated tone "No, I thought it over and over again myself, there was no other way."
Legolas sensed the change in her. She was not more at ease, but she seemed to have taken a decision. He looked at her, her hair was braided again, but he remembered what it looked like when she had been standing on top of that Uruk. It had been a mess, especially since there had been no helmet to keep it in place. Loose strings had been hanging all around her head. She had looked small and yet, she had been the master of the creature. In moves, in words, in composure. She had looked terribly beautiful, tall and proud. For a moment more like a queen than a warrior.
She looked at him and said: "If you don't talk, the others will start grumbling for having to stand that long in line." He smiled. "Where did you learn to speak 'the Black Speech'? You speak it rather fluently." He just had to know this, the rumours in the camp had haunted him since her first words in that horrible tongue. She shrugged, "I prefer to study my enemy instead of just stupidly rush in. And speaking one's tongue has some advantages, as you have seen."
She looked away from him, "Although I did not get the information I wanted." she continued softly.
"I never ever, in all my life have heard an elf speak in that tongue." Legolas said slowly, watching her for any reactions. Of course it was dark and she was an elf, so she was able to control all the little muscles of her face to make it look motionless. However, he was an elf too and he noticed that she did just that: control her muscles and appear to be unmoved. Only, there should not have been any reasons to do that.
"You're wrong: you heard me uttering it this evening, and since I am an elf..."
'You're not an elf, you're a mystery' Legolas thought but he said: "Yes, an elf and a warrior, a Master Warrior as they called you at the camp. And I agree with that. It's a pity we never heard of you before, we could have used your skills in our Fellowship. I wonder why Gandalf did not make use of your skills? Did you know Gandalf?" Immediately he could actually sense her defences been built up again. 'Wrong Legolas' he thought. 'Wrong tone, wrong question, too offensive, too bold, too inquisitive, too eager... and that I am when it comes to her!'
As a complete contradiction to his thoughts and plans he looked at her and said: "I'm sorry to..."
But she interrupted him: "Don't be. I'm sorry that I can not answer your questions. There is a reason, I just... I..." she was silent. Legolas was afraid to even blink and destroy this moment, he just kept looking in her eyes and she kept looking back.
When she talked again her words came slow and soft, like she was not certain of them or like she tried to hold them back. "I had expected... to be free... and now it seems like..." she swallowed, "freedom is something I'll never have. It's just the same... only the one who imprisons change..." Legolas wanted to hold her, to protect her, his heart was aching to tell her that he would fight anybody who would dare to imprison her. And he wanted to know why she said this, what she had been through to talk like this, whose prisoner she had been? Of dwarfs, a prisoner of orcs?
She was silent for a long time and he was wondering what to say, when suddenly she got up. She looked down at him and said: "I am a warrior, and you'll just have to take my word for it that my intentions are to stop this new terror and since I'm able to aid your cause this time, I certainly will, no matter how, no matter where... And this ends our conversation... I'll take a look at that line now, but I don't think any audiences will be granted anymore." The reeds and grasses shivered, regaining colour in the rays of the breaking sun.
And standing in the first light she was again the skilled warrior he had seen training in Minas Tirith. A shape on a field, unrecognizable. And yet, like then, this was only a shadow of one he had seen glimpses of when she stepped into the light.
......
A/N: First I want to thank my sister here for always encouraging me and B-reading.
Kalenniphredel: Thank you again for your review: it keeps me going! Hope your writers block is lessened. Kalen is much too nice and strong to leave her be when she is going to do something so difficult as to burry her loved ones and clean her city.
Well, the story-line is deepening more and more. There is a good part for Thranduil, better than I had given him first. But first they will encounter Ragnor and he still holds a grudge against her!
Thanks to everyone who is so kind as to leave a review, no matter how short. Just to know that you read this is an encouragement to me.
13 September 2003: changed an 's.
