A/N: Thank you for all your reviews, they¡¯re really greatly appreciated.

Chapter 5 ¨C Poetry By Candlelight

Faith¡¯s POV

Guess how long it took me to clean the blasted ¡®royal chambers¡¯. Five freaking bloody tortuous hours! I can hardly walk now, my muscles have all tensed up. What I really need now is to get some fresh air, but the damn prince has dug up my ghosts of the past, I mean it¡¯s not like they were ever truly buried, but I¡¯ve managed to keep them at bay. Until now. So although the fresh air will do me a mountain of good, I head for the library instead.

Now strictly speaking, being a servant and all, I¡¯m not allowed to set ¡®one filthy unworthy foot¡¯ in the library, to quote the delightful Bumface when I first went in there and wasn¡¯t aware of the rule. What that bitch was doing in the library is unfathomable to me since all she ever does is prance around whilst spying on the prince. I sigh, these ¡®faces¡¯ are all the same.

Anyway, it¡¯s gone past midnight now and I¡¯m willing to bet my choker no one¡¯s in there. My choker¡¯s my most prized possession, it was a gift to me from my best friend, you¡¯re probably wondering why the hell I tried to commit suicide when I had a best friend, but the key word there is had. Great. More painful memories being dug up. But pushing the memories aside, it¡¯s a beautiful choker, a heart carved out of black marble hanging off a ribbon of black satin.

A tear wriggles its way out of the corner of my eye. It¡¯s amazing to think that I had a life once, I was happy once, but it¡¯s all gone now, everything good and warm and filled with love has been flushed out of me, now I¡¯m just empty, hollow and it hurts. It hurts like hell. When I¡¯m like I am now, being torn apart by my past that I try so hard to forget, I like to write poetry, I¡¯ve always loved poetry, how mere words can express so much emotion, and I find it helps dull the pain a bit, if only for a while. This is why I¡¯m heading for the library, my room has no desk or chair, not that there¡¯s space for either of them anyway.

I¡¯ve been in the library several times before, but I never fail to be astounded by its sheer size and elegance. Row after row of books, thick dusty volume, in fact everything is dusty, but that just adds to the wonder and magic of it all, it feels like I¡¯ve stepped into a long forgotten realm. After about half a minute of staring around like a mindless idiot, I head for a table at the back, just in case any late night wonderers should stroll in, and light an already half-melted candle. I take out my old tattered scrap book and a biro that happened to be in my jacket pocket when I jumped and begin to write.

Legolas¡¯ POV

Just like me to act before I think. I made a promise to myself to help Faith, but I haven¡¯t got the slightest clue where to start. Martha refuses to give out ¡®confidential information¡¯ and there are a heck of a lot of servants in the palace. Frustrated with myself, I head for the library. I¡¯ve always had a passion for reading, I still enjoy the magic stories can bring even when I¡¯m nearly 3000 years old, it helps me to escape my troubles in the real world.

I don¡¯t expect anyone to be there, it has gone midnight and most people will be lying in there beds asleep, untroubled. Me? I¡¯m not most people and being a prince, trouble seems to feed off me. I enter the library and take in a deep breath, I love that smell of dust and burning candles. Wait a minute, burning candles? That must mean someone¡¯s here. I scan the room cautiously and who should I find but the cause of my troubles. Yep, Faith is bent low, writing, or rather scribbling frantically in a tattered old note book.

I¡¯m a bit stunned to be honest, I have spent hours trying to find this girl and of the places she could be, I find her when I¡¯m not even looking. Weird. Well, being a servant, she¡¯s not actually allowed in the library, but I don¡¯t care, I¡¯m just glad I found her.

Faith¡¯s POV

I¡¯ve written about 4 lines of my poem, I¡¯ve decided to call it ¡®Cursed¡¯ this is what I¡¯ve got so far:

I¡¯m dying, slowly dying

Drowning in the endless ocean of my tears

I¡¯m bleeding, so badly bleeding

Wounds opened by the pieces of my broken heart

(A/N: I¡¯m not very good at poetry, but I thought I¡¯d give it a go)

As I¡¯m just about to write the next line (I don¡¯t ¡®contemplate¡¯ about what to write, my poems just come from the heart, they tend to make bad poetry but are heartfelt and that¡¯s what matters) I hear an intake of breath. Oh shit, who the hell is in the library at this hour? Apart from me of course, but I have a valid excuse. I look up for a nanosecond, I don¡¯t need any longer to recognize the golden tresses and the sapphire eyes, yep it¡¯s the damn prince.

Two encounters in one day? If it wasn¡¯t for the fact I don¡¯t believe in fate, I might think that fate pushed us together. I almost laugh out loud at this idea, it¡¯s so ludicrous ¨C a prince and a servant girl with a mental problem and a broken heart, never in a million years. I can¡¯t see any means of escape so I just lower my head and keep scribbling, by the time he walks over to my table, I have written the rest of my poem, it¡¯s hardly legible, but it¡¯s finished.

I¡¯m hurting, everyday hurting

Even time cannot heal a dying soul

I¡¯m doomed

Doomed to a life of memories and haunted dreams

I¡¯m falling, forever falling

I¡¯m gone but no I will not be missed

Legolas¡¯ POV

I walk over to her table, right at the back. She looks intriguing with the candlelight washing over her and her dark hair covering her face like a veil, not beautiful but breath taking all the same.

¡®Faith?¡¯

She looks up at me, but not before closing her book that she was writing in.

¡®Your highness¡¯

I¡¯m surprised to find that her voice has lost all trace of sarcasm and rudeness. Instead, she sounds weary and hopeless. I was right in thinking that she is not rude by nature, but something has happened in her past that has made her into what she is today ¨C not altogether unpleasant, but melancholy and depressed. The little flame of curiosity she lit earlier today is fast growing into a wild fire.

¡®Can I see what you wrote?¡¯

She hesitates, but then says,

¡®Why not?¡¯

Gently she opens her book, caressing the pages with her fingertips, for one fleeting moment I wish that I¡¯m the book and she¡¯s caressing me, then I feel mortified at the thought and unconsciously blush. She finds the page and hands the book over.

Faith¡¯s POV

Why does he want to see my poem? But I guess I should let him, after all, I¡¯ve been nothing but rude to him and he¡¯s still being nice. As I flick through the pages of my book, I notice him blushing slightly, hmm, interesting, I wonder what he¡¯s blushing about. I find the page and hand the book to him.

I study his face closely to see his reaction. His face doesn¡¯t move a muscle, but I can see his eyes changing, it¡¯s a though a storm has occurred in the oceans that are his eyes, oh god, please tell me I didn¡¯t think such a poetic not to mention rather soppy thought about the prince. Oh god, I did!

He hands the book back to me. I expect him to say something like what a rubbish poem it is or how too much depression is not good for me, but he surprises me by saying two simple words in a voice so soft, almost a whisper, his lips hardly moving at all,

¡®I¡¯m sorry¡¯

I¡¯m stunned. There¡¯s really more to this prince than meets the eye, he¡¯s not like the other nobles, he¡¯s different and I feel something for him that I haven¡¯t felt for anyone for a long time. I feel respect.

A/N: Bit of a rubbish ending, but I felt it was the right time to end it, not to mention my arms are getting tired from writing. Please review!!!