Title: A Spark in the Dark
Author: Luinëturiel (aka Zoe)
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Lord of the Rings. They belong to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. Any other characters in this story, however, are mine.
I'm truly
flattered by all the wonderful feedback I got for the last chapter. Thank you so
much, everybody! I was especially delighted to be praised by someone who
actually knows a blind person. (Yep, Stick, I'm talking about you here...lol) It's
very encouraging to know that my portrayal of Thalwyn isn't that unrealistic.
;o)
@ Violet: Seeing that it'll take me some more chapters to get this fic
finished, I'd like to take you up on your offer concerning beta reading. If
that the offer is still up, that is. Ah well, I'll write you an email...
Okay, so
here's chapter 12 – and it's Legolas' turn again. Yay! lol
Enjoy!
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A Spark in the Dark
12 Legolas: Of Noble BloodThe first rays of the Sun are reaching lazily over the ridge of the mountains as a group of six riders is about to leave Rivendell. They are six Elves, among them Caranhil, who will lead the party to the place where we found Thalwyn the day before. From there, they will follow back the tracks of Thalwyn's horse and hopefully find out what has become of her sister.
I am standing in front of Caranhil's horse, my fingers absently caressing its soft muzzle while I watch the riders mount their steeds one after another, all of them armed, of course. Finally, Caranhil swings himself onto his horse's back. With a shake of its head and mane, the mount snorts in anticipation of the ride, its breath becoming visible in the crisp air as a cloud of white fog. My dear friend pats the horse's neck and glances round to make sure that the other members of the search party are ready. He then meets my gaze, and with a slight nod I step aside and stand at the side of the path. With gentle pressure of his heels, Caranhil urges his horse forward, and the other five riders follow his example, one by one riding past me.
I stand on the path that runs alongside the river Bruinen and watch the retreating figures until the clatter of hooves is drowned out by the gurgle of the stream and the riders vanish from my sight.
"We will soon know who or what attacked my unexpected guest and her sister, Legolas," a low, sombre voice addresses me.
I turn to find the Master of Rivendell standing but a few yards from me. The face of the tall Elf is difficult to read, yet I imagine to see worry clouding his features; the same kind of worry that washes over me whenever I am reminded of the darkness that threatens to bring all of Middle-earth under its evil spell.
"Lord Elrond." I bow my head slightly to greet him.
The Elven Lord returns the gesture, the hint of a smile now playing around the corners of his mouth. "I would once more like to thank you for keeping Thalwyn company, Legolas. With my other guest still recovering from his injuries, I have not even got the opportunity to bid her a proper welcome."
"It is my pleasure to look after her during her stay," I assure him. "Today, I will show her around the valley. It will help her to while away the time until the search party returns; besides, witnessing the true beauty of this place will make her stay at Rivendell the more memorable for her."
Lord Elrond knows of Thalwyn's obvious admiration of us Elves; last night, when I returned to the Hall of Fire after Thalwyn had gone to sleep again, I told him. For this reason, I am not in the least surprised to read understanding as well as slight amusement in the eyes of the Lord of Imladris as he nods in approval. "So, will you and Thalwyn come to meet me in the Great Hall for breakfast before you show her around? I would very much like to speak with her."
"It will be my pleasure to join you for breakfast, Lord Elrond, as I am sure it will be Thalwyn's." Indeed, I have no doubt that the young woman would like to finally get to know the Master of the Last Homely House.
"Well, I shall see you for breakfast, then." Lord Elrond merely bows his head, then he turns and makes for the nearest flight of stairs that leads to one of the several buildings that belong to the Last Homely House.
As he leaves, I turn towards the river to watch the Sun gradually stretch her golden fingers further across the valley, and marvel at the play of colours that is caused by rays of light peeking over the cliff of the nearby waterfall.
This is
something I will not be able to show Thalwyn.
How can I make her 'see' the beauty of this place at all?
I heave a sigh and focus my attention on the sound of the waters floating by. I keep listening to the vivid song the river is singing for quite a while before I follow Lord Elrond's example and walk inside.
Meanwhile, the whole house seems to have woken, for there is laughter, chatter, and clatter everywhere. A smile and a song on my lips, I make my way to Thalwyn's chamber, which is located in one of the more silent side-wings of the building, on the upper floor. I mount the stairs taking two steps at a time and absently nod a 'Good morning' to some Elves that are heading in the opposite direction.
When I have finally arrived at Thalwyn's chamber, I stand in front of the door for a brief moment, then I knock. "Thalwyn? May I come in?"
"Yes, please come in," the young woman answers almost at once, and I push open the wooden door.
"Good morning, Thalwyn," I greet her merrily as I step into the room, the melody of the song still filling my mind.
This time, Thalwyn's reply is as hesitant as it is short. "Good morning," is all she says.
I raise an eyebrow at her display of what I would interpret as slight discomfort, but decide not to comment on it. Instead, I close the door and cross the room, taking in Thalwyn's appearance as I walk towards her.
The young woman is standing in front of the bed, dressed in a beautiful long-sleeved gown of elven making. Several layers of light, burgundy fabric float loosely around her legs while the richly embroidered bodice of the dress hugs her upper body, thus accentuating her womanly curves.
She looks even prettier than last night.
Once I have walked up to her, I gently hold Thalwyn at arm's length in order to have another look at her. With a smile, I ask only half-jokingly, "Do my eyes betray me, or is there a new Elven maiden at Rivendell?" And indeed, with those damp waves of brown hair obscuring her rounded human ears from view, one could almost take her for a She-Elf. Almost. "You truly look amazing, Thalwyn. Were it not for your tanned skin and your freckles, you could almost pass for one of our kind."
Thalwyn thanks me for the compliment. But although her words are accompanied by a shy smile, I notice that there is still an air of uneasiness about the young woman. I am somewhat clueless as to what may be the cause of Thalwyn feeling uncomfortable around me.
Is she still embarrassed because of what happened last night? I hope not.
In fact, I am quite convinced that something else has caused the subtle change in Thalwyn's behaviour, for everything seemed to be all right when I left her chamber the night before. With an inner shrug, I break the touch and take a small step back, never taking my eyes off the woman's face.
As soon as I have let go of her, Thalwyn tilts back her head and her hands reach up – to braid her hair, I assume. Without even thinking, I ask if I may help her, as it is fairly common among Elves.
The reaction my offer earns me from Thalwyn startles me, to say the least. Crying a word of protest, she backs away from me hastily, almost as if she were afraid of me. I stare at her in disbelief, nearly missing what she says next, "I can do this on my own, thank you. Besides, I cannot let you help me."
Finally, the words register.
"I cannot let you help me."
Thalwyn's voice was soft when she uttered that sentence, yet the way she stressed the word 'you' made it sound like something that could only be described as a sugar-coated reproach.
What the Valar...?
My eyebrows furrow in a frown. "What is it, Thalwyn?"
"It is nothing. I just prefer to braid my hair myself." Her face is blank as she speaks, and her answer does not sound convincing at all.
"I thought you knew that you can trust me, Thalwyn. Please tell me what is wrong," I ask her once more, my mind all the while working furiously.
Why does
she act so strangely around me, so all of a sudden?
What can possibly have happened since I last saw her?
What have I done to upset her?
I promised her to come and see her again in the morning, and here I am...
Just then, another thought strikes me.
What if it was not me that did something wrong, but the only other person in this house that Thalwyn has met so far – the maid that Lord Elrond said he sent earlier to Thalwyn's assistance?
To be honest, I highly doubt my own theory. But since I cannot think of any other explanation for Thalwyn's odd behaviour, I have no choice but to ask her. "Did the maid that brought you the dress do anything to upset you?"
At this, Thalwyn immediately shakes her head. "No!" She sounds as determined as some minutes ago, when she refused my offer of help. "Tathariel was very kind to me, actually. She prepared a bath for me, helped me with the dress, and...well, she told me who you really are, Your Highness."
It takes a second for the last sentence to sink in – especially the last two words. But then I comprehend what is going on.
So she
got to know that I am a prince, and now she is holding a grudge against me
because I did not tell her of my lineage earlier.
And maybe she is even intimidated by my title.
I am relieved and amused at the same time; relieved to know why Thalwyn is acting so strangely, and amused above all because of her choice of words. "You say she told you who I really am?" I cannot help but laugh gently. Then I try to find the right words to make her see that she has already got to know the 'real' me; that there is no reason for her to feel intimidated by my formal title.
"I happen to be the son of a king, yes," I start, "but that alone does not make me any better or more respectable than any other Elf. When I told you my name and my name only, it was because I wanted you to see me as what I am – someone who wants to help you. It did not occur to me that my official title was of any importance."
Thalwyn is still standing in front of me, motionless. Uncertain whether she has truly listened to what I just said, I tentatively lay my hands on her shoulders. The young woman does neither flinch, nor does she try to avoid the touch, which I take as a good sign. "Thalwyn, I am still the same person I was yesterday, and I do not wish you to treat me any different than you did before you learned about my lineage. Do you hear me?"
It is not until I lightly squeeze her shoulders that I finally get a response from Thalwyn. She nods, apparently lost for words.
I feel another wave of relief wash over me. "All right. I am glad that we managed to sort this out. Now would you like me to help you to braid your hair, Thalwyn?" I let go of her shoulders again and reach for the brush that is lying on the bed.
But still, Thalwyn would not let me help her. This time, she has a smile on her lips, though, when says, "I appreciate your kind offer, Legolas, but I think I will still do it myself."
I accept her choice with a silent shrug and watch her skilled fingers go to work. There is the hint of a smirk on Thalwyn's face when she asks, "Prince or not, what would a male Elf know of braiding someone's hair anyway?"
From the tone of her voice I can tell that the question was meant more or less rhetorically, which makes my lips curve in a smirk as well. "More than you seem to assume," I state without further explanation.
The quizzical – or rather sceptical – look that the young woman gives me in return confirms my assumption that she knows little, if anything, about Elvish customs as far as hairstyles are concerned. Which does not exactly surprise me, to be honest. Taken into account that Thalwyn is blind and that I am the first Elf she has ever met, how could she probably know unless someone told her?
For even
when I let her explore my features, all she got to touch were my face and ears.
So maybe she has not even noticed that my hair is as long as hers.
Tucking one of my smaller braids behind my ear, I focus my attention back on Thalwyn. Meanwhile, she has finished weaving her hair into the same kind of single, thick braid she wore when we found her. She smiles at me contently, and I ask, "May we go then, Thalwyn?"
When she gives me a silent nod as a reply, I close the short distance between us and reach for her hand, placing it at the crook of my elbow. Thalwyn's fingers gingerly curl around my arm, and together we make for the Great Hall.