Chapter Fifty-Two: Caught in the Act
A/N: In reference to the "Light Bearer" meaning Lucifer/Satan, I have this to say: I chose the title, "The Light Bearer" because when I was searching for a name for my main character, I stumbled upon "Aila" in a baby-name website. I saw that it meant the "Light Bearer" and I thought that was pretty cool, and the rest of the story kind of went with her name and I constructed the plot around that. So there you go. She is not Satan. (I am … j/k).
Anywho, thanks to Rayne Maker, Guardian Storm Demon, Taraeldaiel, Countess Greenleaf, Laicalasse, The Oreo of Love, Savina, Nilannawen, Catrina, and Mija. Thanks you guys, for putting me on your favorites! I'm so touched. (Yes, Yu-Gi being possessed is the greatest. His guiding spirit is TIGHT!). Thanks to everyone else too, for being so understanding. Life sucks! But you know, what can you do about it? Christmas is coming … so Merry Christmas…Happy Chanukah! And Kwanzaa, yeah--that too (whatever it is, if anyone knows--educate me).
Findecano is (of course) pronounced "fin-duh-kahn(as in Genghis Khan)-oh." Fin-duh-khan-oh. Simple enough. Hukil is "huh-yoo-kul" only "huh-yoo" is like one syllable.
I'M GOING TO SEE THE LORD OF THE RINGS: THE TWO TOWERS TOMORROW! I'M GOING TO WAIT IN LINE FOR 2 HOURS TO GET IN. IT'S GOING TO BE SO FREAKING AWESOME, AND I GET TO SEE ORLANDO BLOOM'S HOTNESS AS LEGOLAS, OUR FAVORITE ELF! WOOHOOHOO! I know, you all hate me now, but oh well. I'll tell you all about his sexiness.
…
The men who were had been woken by the guards around the holding tent were leaning into the tent of their king, listening intently upon what their king would make of this information. One, the most prominently tough, his blonde hair waving about his shoulders as he laughed silently to his comrades.
"If I were to kill Aila now …" he heard the king trail.
"Alas," said the man, a dark smile upon his face, his whispers hardly to be heard. "The elves will feel our wrath!" He clenched his fist, his muscles accentuated by a leather arm-let that wrapped around his forearms and extended from his wrists to just below his elbows. Each arm circlet had designs burned into them.
"But," replied another, whispering as well, "the one King Glorinul is about to kill is a human. No elven blood will be shed and they will care not. His Kingship is going to let their Prince live."
"No, no," replied the blonde, "She may be human, but is royalty among them. Elves will not care of what race she is, as long as she is dead."
They turned their attentions back to the tent, where they could see through the fabric that Glorinul had his right hand slowly migrating towards his sword at his opposite hip. The metal rang softly as he pulled it slowly from his sheath.
Unbeknownst to the men watching, there was another watching their very movements, hoping to get an idea of what was happening. The soldiers watched as Glorinul raised his sword and fell it towards Aila's neck. Her scream was piercing and loud.
…
"Go, tell the others," whispered the blonde urgently. "Wake them, we have truly begun the war!" One of the other soldiers listening with him rushed through the camp, waking others and telling them the news.
"King Glorinul has murdered the Princess of the Elves! We have begun the war! She is dead, she is dead! Dead for her treachery to the human race and siding with the elves. I heard her scream, I watched her head fall to the ground!" Of course, this soldiers had not seen Aila's head fall to the ground through the fabric, but he said it anyway, to assure the soldiers that she was dead. The others who had been listening were retreating from the King's tent, in an attempt to avoid being caught.
However, the other who had been watching, deep in the foliage of a tree, felt his heart seize in sorrow, as he heard that his Princess' life had been taken. Aila was dead, and Hukil sprinted through the greenery back to the elven castle, to impart the words of dread upon the elven company.
…
"Well?" asked Findecano. He had been pacing the great hallway of the elven castle in Mirkwood. His light hands were clasped behind his back, his royal tunic was the same he had been wearing the previous day, wrinkled and somewhat dirty. He hadn't slept all night, but stayed up, pacing. His bright blue eyes, shot with gold, darted up to meet the sallow face of Hukil. Findecano stood tall, his body most like his father's, thin and lithe. His sinewy muscles could be easily seen through his garments, but the genius of his mind was also easy to acknowledge in a single glance. His deep blue eyes were wrought with worry as he watched the black eyes of Hukil, who bowed his head in the presence of the still relatively young prince.
Hukil was several millennia older than Findecano himself, and his dark black hair, shot with silver, waved to his shoulders and truly for a moment he looked his age. He sallow skin seemed greener than usual to the elven prince, who was immediately even more concerned.
"Hukil? What is wrong? What is happening to my parents?" Hukil lifted his face from the floor and met Findecano's deep blue eyes. For him, it was the most difficult thing he had ever had to do in his millennia of living: to tell a prince that his mother had been killed by the enemy because of his own plans for rescue. Blue eyes met black and for a moment they held the same spirit, but so far apart. One knew truth, the other only knew sorrow for the happening. One knew the tragedy he was about to unfold, the other willingly awaiting it.
"Sire," began Hukil. His low, deep voice, was slow, like a snake slithering across ground that was not firm. "Sire, about your parents …" Findecano stopped pacing, and stared at Hukil for a very long time. When Hukil did not continue, he prompted him.
"What about my parents?"
"Sire," came an entirely different voice. It was that of a female, and one of Findecano's attendants came from the shadow of the door. "The elves of Lothlorien and Ithilien have arrived, sire, and the Lady Galadriel requests your company." Frustrated, Findecano narrowed his eyes towards the attendant.
"Tell the Lady that she must wait for a few minutes. I am speaking to Hukil and I request solitude with him for at least a half hour more. Send her my greatest apologies and have her speak with my grandfather while she is waiting. Thank you." His blue eyes fell to the floor, glowering at the marble, until they were brought sharply back up to Hukil. "You were saying something?"
"Yes, sire. About your parents," again, Hukil paused. "I witnessed something quite terrible, sire." Findecano sat down in a chair nearest him and gripped the armrests until his knuckles were white.
"Continue."
"Yes, sire. I was speaking with your father, when the guards detected my presence, we must have been speaking too loud. I escaped just in time, I didn't think much of it, but the guards woke your mother, who had the plan of escape, but was asleep at the time; and the guards took them to King Glorinul, he spoke for a bit, your mother lost her temper, but I couldn't see what was happening, because soldiers were around the tent listening, and I wouldn't dare get too close. Well, your mother gave out an unearthly screech and one of the soldiers listening at the tent came around the camp and told the others that Gloinul had just killed … had just killed …"
"Had just killed my mother," said Findecano slowly.
"Had just killed your mother. I am sorry, Prince. Your mother is dead."
"What about my father?"
"I believe that Prince Legolas still lives, sire."
"You believe?"
"I left before I could learn more development to the story, it was far too tragic already." Findecano's hands were rapt upon the armrests, and the wood began to crush beneath his grip, but he didn't realize it. His blue eyes were still boring into the black nothingness that Hukil possessed. The prince's face was still strong and resolute, as if he hadn't yet realized what Hukil had told him.
"If you will excuse me, friend." Findecano stood from the chair and began to leave.
"Are you going to speak with Lady Galadriel?" Hukil asked, though out of turn.
"No," replied Findecano shortly, his voice was deep and harsh. His eyes were staring straight ahead, before he sighed, his chest heaving and his eyes dropped to the ground and he hung his head. It was the first time that Hukil had ever seen Findecano act like anything other than a rightful prince. His glory and mannerisms had left him, and Findecano was reduced to a small elven boy, weeping for his lost mother. "I go to mourn my mother," and his voice was dead. He walked from the room, and Hukil went to find the Lady Galadriel.
…
Findecano fell to his knees in front of a large statue of the Varda Queen, Elbereth. From his knees, his elbows his the ground and he held his wet face in his slender hands, so much like those of Legolas. His brown hair fell in waves about his pale face and tears streamed from his bright blue eyes, that were so much deeper than those of Legolas himself. His back was parallel with the sky and he sat there prostrate, on his elbows and knees, crying to the queen of the Varda, his tears dampening the dirt beneath him to mud at Elbereth's feet.
"Ai, Elbereth," he cried into his hands, the salty tears finding their way along his hands into his mouth. He choked on his own tears, but he heeded them little, paying attention to nothing in his grief. "Ai, Elbereth," he repeated. "Why? Why must you take my mother from me?" His crying continued broken by him screaming for his mother, the only tribute he had left to the woman who had raised him from birth. The woman who was now gone from his life. "Mother," he shouted. "Mother! MOTHER!" His cries became more hysterical than the tears that still streamed down his pale face, leaving dark streaks where their paths had been.
Hysterically, Findecano continued to mourn, in the most attention-grabbing way, but the elves who were near the garden heard his shouts, but knew enough not to go near him. They had no idea what he was crying to his mother for, but by listening further to his cries, they found she was dead.
"Ai, Mother! Why must you take her away, Elbereth? She was not meant to die here. Not here. Not now," he still cried into his hands, prone on the ground, his elbows were dirty, and his knees were covered as well, but still he lay there, sitting upon his feet, his back reigning to the sky. "Mother!"
"Prince Findecano," came a musical voice from behind him, "it tears at my heart to see you this way." He turned, expecting to see Galadriel, who had found him in the garden. Instead, however, he found the very female attendant who had announced the lady's presence, and her blonde hair fell in waves down her back, coursing down her white dress. Findecano raised himself from the ground, still crying, pulled his hands from his face and sat on his feet, his shins against the ground. He turned to her and she gasped at his face. "Prince Findecano," she began again, but he turned away, back towards the statue. He heard her race to him, and she dropped to her knees next to him, heedless of her white dress. "Prince Findecano, what is wrong?"
He did not answer her, but remained riveted upon the face of Elbereth carved in stone. Her hands went around his face and turned his face towards hers, and she wiped the salty tears from his cheeks, but still they coursed down.
"Prince," she said. "From the time I have been old enough to serve, I have served you and you alone. I feel responsible for you life. Please, tell me what is wrong?"
His voice was hoarse, and the spirit within it was dead. He had always been a noble prince, but always had he a lively spirit in his voice. Now it was gone. Monotonously, he spoke.
"She is dead. My mother is dead, killed by the king of the men." Wordlessly, she pulled him into her, burying his face in her shoulder. Heedlessly, Findecano continued to unleash his emotions, until he was sane enough to realize what was happening. His brought his head from her collar bone and pulled away from her hands which were wrapped around him.
"I must go," he said to her, standing up and attempting to dust himself off. "I must attend Lady Galadriel and this is no way for an elven prince to act, especially in such times as these." He began to walk away, leaving the serving girl sitting forlornly on the ground, her once clean white dress a mess of tears and dirt. Almost out of the garden, Findecano turned towards her, "Thank you," and walked away.
However, he had not gone far when he found Lady Galadriel striding toward him.
"It is all over the palace," she began. "You mother is supposedly dead."
"Supposedly," said Findecano, his voice spiteful. "Nothing is supposed. She is dead. Hukil told me. He heard it from the soldiers who saw it with their own eyes. My mother is dead, decapitated. There is nothing you can do to comfort me. A maid has already tried."
"I am not here to comfort you, Findecano," and for a moment her musical voice was wrathful at his tone. "I am here to knock some sense into your delicate royal head. Your mother is a great woman, and your father even greater a man. I say is. Both still exist. I see it in my mirror that Hukil has heard wrongly, but it is only a matter of time. Your plans must commence quickly, or truly your mother will be gone."
"You mean," began Findecano.
"She is still alive, Findecano."
"I don't know how I can ever thank you," he said. He kissed her upon the cheek and ran from the room, sprinting with an extra spring in his already bouncy step. He ran to find Hukil, who he knew was mourning over what he had misheard. The joy was back in his eyes that his mother was still alive, but the joy was not shared by his parents, who still remained in the tent of the king.
…
"If I were to kill Aila now," repeated Glorinul, his sword entirely out of its scabbard and raised to Aila's throat. "If I killed her, and left her tied to dear Prince Legolas. What torture, what morose he should feel, captured and tied to his own dead wife. So tragic. So sad." He raised his sword and brought it back down slowly to Aila's neck, and she could do nothing but close her eyes tightly. Behind him, Legolas could almost hear the steel touch Aila's throat. She let out such an unearthly scream that it rang across the camp and probably woke up elves in the castle. He shuddered, his elven hearing picking up the noise tenfold, and his immediate impression was that she had been killed, but he felt her squirming against his bruised back and he took heart.
"No!" He shouted, turning his head towards Glorinul. "Do not kill her. Whatever you want from me, I will do whatever I can to give you. I will do what you want, but let Aila live."
…
A/N: I like that nice little cliffhanger. More will be revealed about the Light Bearer and her abilities. Have I not mentioned that the elves of Rivendell, Lorien, and Ithilien each have gifts for her that were specially customized to her powers? And Ithilien elves have arrived in Mirkwood and she has yet to receive her object! Woohoohoo. Anyway, ha, ha, ha. I'm going to see LOTR: The Two Towers tomorrow. With my best buddy Ally. Ah yes. (I met my bro's girlfriend today. God, what a whore.)
A/N: In reference to the "Light Bearer" meaning Lucifer/Satan, I have this to say: I chose the title, "The Light Bearer" because when I was searching for a name for my main character, I stumbled upon "Aila" in a baby-name website. I saw that it meant the "Light Bearer" and I thought that was pretty cool, and the rest of the story kind of went with her name and I constructed the plot around that. So there you go. She is not Satan. (I am … j/k).
Anywho, thanks to Rayne Maker, Guardian Storm Demon, Taraeldaiel, Countess Greenleaf, Laicalasse, The Oreo of Love, Savina, Nilannawen, Catrina, and Mija. Thanks you guys, for putting me on your favorites! I'm so touched. (Yes, Yu-Gi being possessed is the greatest. His guiding spirit is TIGHT!). Thanks to everyone else too, for being so understanding. Life sucks! But you know, what can you do about it? Christmas is coming … so Merry Christmas…Happy Chanukah! And Kwanzaa, yeah--that too (whatever it is, if anyone knows--educate me).
Findecano is (of course) pronounced "fin-duh-kahn(as in Genghis Khan)-oh." Fin-duh-khan-oh. Simple enough. Hukil is "huh-yoo-kul" only "huh-yoo" is like one syllable.
I'M GOING TO SEE THE LORD OF THE RINGS: THE TWO TOWERS TOMORROW! I'M GOING TO WAIT IN LINE FOR 2 HOURS TO GET IN. IT'S GOING TO BE SO FREAKING AWESOME, AND I GET TO SEE ORLANDO BLOOM'S HOTNESS AS LEGOLAS, OUR FAVORITE ELF! WOOHOOHOO! I know, you all hate me now, but oh well. I'll tell you all about his sexiness.
…
The men who were had been woken by the guards around the holding tent were leaning into the tent of their king, listening intently upon what their king would make of this information. One, the most prominently tough, his blonde hair waving about his shoulders as he laughed silently to his comrades.
"If I were to kill Aila now …" he heard the king trail.
"Alas," said the man, a dark smile upon his face, his whispers hardly to be heard. "The elves will feel our wrath!" He clenched his fist, his muscles accentuated by a leather arm-let that wrapped around his forearms and extended from his wrists to just below his elbows. Each arm circlet had designs burned into them.
"But," replied another, whispering as well, "the one King Glorinul is about to kill is a human. No elven blood will be shed and they will care not. His Kingship is going to let their Prince live."
"No, no," replied the blonde, "She may be human, but is royalty among them. Elves will not care of what race she is, as long as she is dead."
They turned their attentions back to the tent, where they could see through the fabric that Glorinul had his right hand slowly migrating towards his sword at his opposite hip. The metal rang softly as he pulled it slowly from his sheath.
Unbeknownst to the men watching, there was another watching their very movements, hoping to get an idea of what was happening. The soldiers watched as Glorinul raised his sword and fell it towards Aila's neck. Her scream was piercing and loud.
…
"Go, tell the others," whispered the blonde urgently. "Wake them, we have truly begun the war!" One of the other soldiers listening with him rushed through the camp, waking others and telling them the news.
"King Glorinul has murdered the Princess of the Elves! We have begun the war! She is dead, she is dead! Dead for her treachery to the human race and siding with the elves. I heard her scream, I watched her head fall to the ground!" Of course, this soldiers had not seen Aila's head fall to the ground through the fabric, but he said it anyway, to assure the soldiers that she was dead. The others who had been listening were retreating from the King's tent, in an attempt to avoid being caught.
However, the other who had been watching, deep in the foliage of a tree, felt his heart seize in sorrow, as he heard that his Princess' life had been taken. Aila was dead, and Hukil sprinted through the greenery back to the elven castle, to impart the words of dread upon the elven company.
…
"Well?" asked Findecano. He had been pacing the great hallway of the elven castle in Mirkwood. His light hands were clasped behind his back, his royal tunic was the same he had been wearing the previous day, wrinkled and somewhat dirty. He hadn't slept all night, but stayed up, pacing. His bright blue eyes, shot with gold, darted up to meet the sallow face of Hukil. Findecano stood tall, his body most like his father's, thin and lithe. His sinewy muscles could be easily seen through his garments, but the genius of his mind was also easy to acknowledge in a single glance. His deep blue eyes were wrought with worry as he watched the black eyes of Hukil, who bowed his head in the presence of the still relatively young prince.
Hukil was several millennia older than Findecano himself, and his dark black hair, shot with silver, waved to his shoulders and truly for a moment he looked his age. He sallow skin seemed greener than usual to the elven prince, who was immediately even more concerned.
"Hukil? What is wrong? What is happening to my parents?" Hukil lifted his face from the floor and met Findecano's deep blue eyes. For him, it was the most difficult thing he had ever had to do in his millennia of living: to tell a prince that his mother had been killed by the enemy because of his own plans for rescue. Blue eyes met black and for a moment they held the same spirit, but so far apart. One knew truth, the other only knew sorrow for the happening. One knew the tragedy he was about to unfold, the other willingly awaiting it.
"Sire," began Hukil. His low, deep voice, was slow, like a snake slithering across ground that was not firm. "Sire, about your parents …" Findecano stopped pacing, and stared at Hukil for a very long time. When Hukil did not continue, he prompted him.
"What about my parents?"
"Sire," came an entirely different voice. It was that of a female, and one of Findecano's attendants came from the shadow of the door. "The elves of Lothlorien and Ithilien have arrived, sire, and the Lady Galadriel requests your company." Frustrated, Findecano narrowed his eyes towards the attendant.
"Tell the Lady that she must wait for a few minutes. I am speaking to Hukil and I request solitude with him for at least a half hour more. Send her my greatest apologies and have her speak with my grandfather while she is waiting. Thank you." His blue eyes fell to the floor, glowering at the marble, until they were brought sharply back up to Hukil. "You were saying something?"
"Yes, sire. About your parents," again, Hukil paused. "I witnessed something quite terrible, sire." Findecano sat down in a chair nearest him and gripped the armrests until his knuckles were white.
"Continue."
"Yes, sire. I was speaking with your father, when the guards detected my presence, we must have been speaking too loud. I escaped just in time, I didn't think much of it, but the guards woke your mother, who had the plan of escape, but was asleep at the time; and the guards took them to King Glorinul, he spoke for a bit, your mother lost her temper, but I couldn't see what was happening, because soldiers were around the tent listening, and I wouldn't dare get too close. Well, your mother gave out an unearthly screech and one of the soldiers listening at the tent came around the camp and told the others that Gloinul had just killed … had just killed …"
"Had just killed my mother," said Findecano slowly.
"Had just killed your mother. I am sorry, Prince. Your mother is dead."
"What about my father?"
"I believe that Prince Legolas still lives, sire."
"You believe?"
"I left before I could learn more development to the story, it was far too tragic already." Findecano's hands were rapt upon the armrests, and the wood began to crush beneath his grip, but he didn't realize it. His blue eyes were still boring into the black nothingness that Hukil possessed. The prince's face was still strong and resolute, as if he hadn't yet realized what Hukil had told him.
"If you will excuse me, friend." Findecano stood from the chair and began to leave.
"Are you going to speak with Lady Galadriel?" Hukil asked, though out of turn.
"No," replied Findecano shortly, his voice was deep and harsh. His eyes were staring straight ahead, before he sighed, his chest heaving and his eyes dropped to the ground and he hung his head. It was the first time that Hukil had ever seen Findecano act like anything other than a rightful prince. His glory and mannerisms had left him, and Findecano was reduced to a small elven boy, weeping for his lost mother. "I go to mourn my mother," and his voice was dead. He walked from the room, and Hukil went to find the Lady Galadriel.
…
Findecano fell to his knees in front of a large statue of the Varda Queen, Elbereth. From his knees, his elbows his the ground and he held his wet face in his slender hands, so much like those of Legolas. His brown hair fell in waves about his pale face and tears streamed from his bright blue eyes, that were so much deeper than those of Legolas himself. His back was parallel with the sky and he sat there prostrate, on his elbows and knees, crying to the queen of the Varda, his tears dampening the dirt beneath him to mud at Elbereth's feet.
"Ai, Elbereth," he cried into his hands, the salty tears finding their way along his hands into his mouth. He choked on his own tears, but he heeded them little, paying attention to nothing in his grief. "Ai, Elbereth," he repeated. "Why? Why must you take my mother from me?" His crying continued broken by him screaming for his mother, the only tribute he had left to the woman who had raised him from birth. The woman who was now gone from his life. "Mother," he shouted. "Mother! MOTHER!" His cries became more hysterical than the tears that still streamed down his pale face, leaving dark streaks where their paths had been.
Hysterically, Findecano continued to mourn, in the most attention-grabbing way, but the elves who were near the garden heard his shouts, but knew enough not to go near him. They had no idea what he was crying to his mother for, but by listening further to his cries, they found she was dead.
"Ai, Mother! Why must you take her away, Elbereth? She was not meant to die here. Not here. Not now," he still cried into his hands, prone on the ground, his elbows were dirty, and his knees were covered as well, but still he lay there, sitting upon his feet, his back reigning to the sky. "Mother!"
"Prince Findecano," came a musical voice from behind him, "it tears at my heart to see you this way." He turned, expecting to see Galadriel, who had found him in the garden. Instead, however, he found the very female attendant who had announced the lady's presence, and her blonde hair fell in waves down her back, coursing down her white dress. Findecano raised himself from the ground, still crying, pulled his hands from his face and sat on his feet, his shins against the ground. He turned to her and she gasped at his face. "Prince Findecano," she began again, but he turned away, back towards the statue. He heard her race to him, and she dropped to her knees next to him, heedless of her white dress. "Prince Findecano, what is wrong?"
He did not answer her, but remained riveted upon the face of Elbereth carved in stone. Her hands went around his face and turned his face towards hers, and she wiped the salty tears from his cheeks, but still they coursed down.
"Prince," she said. "From the time I have been old enough to serve, I have served you and you alone. I feel responsible for you life. Please, tell me what is wrong?"
His voice was hoarse, and the spirit within it was dead. He had always been a noble prince, but always had he a lively spirit in his voice. Now it was gone. Monotonously, he spoke.
"She is dead. My mother is dead, killed by the king of the men." Wordlessly, she pulled him into her, burying his face in her shoulder. Heedlessly, Findecano continued to unleash his emotions, until he was sane enough to realize what was happening. His brought his head from her collar bone and pulled away from her hands which were wrapped around him.
"I must go," he said to her, standing up and attempting to dust himself off. "I must attend Lady Galadriel and this is no way for an elven prince to act, especially in such times as these." He began to walk away, leaving the serving girl sitting forlornly on the ground, her once clean white dress a mess of tears and dirt. Almost out of the garden, Findecano turned towards her, "Thank you," and walked away.
However, he had not gone far when he found Lady Galadriel striding toward him.
"It is all over the palace," she began. "You mother is supposedly dead."
"Supposedly," said Findecano, his voice spiteful. "Nothing is supposed. She is dead. Hukil told me. He heard it from the soldiers who saw it with their own eyes. My mother is dead, decapitated. There is nothing you can do to comfort me. A maid has already tried."
"I am not here to comfort you, Findecano," and for a moment her musical voice was wrathful at his tone. "I am here to knock some sense into your delicate royal head. Your mother is a great woman, and your father even greater a man. I say is. Both still exist. I see it in my mirror that Hukil has heard wrongly, but it is only a matter of time. Your plans must commence quickly, or truly your mother will be gone."
"You mean," began Findecano.
"She is still alive, Findecano."
"I don't know how I can ever thank you," he said. He kissed her upon the cheek and ran from the room, sprinting with an extra spring in his already bouncy step. He ran to find Hukil, who he knew was mourning over what he had misheard. The joy was back in his eyes that his mother was still alive, but the joy was not shared by his parents, who still remained in the tent of the king.
…
"If I were to kill Aila now," repeated Glorinul, his sword entirely out of its scabbard and raised to Aila's throat. "If I killed her, and left her tied to dear Prince Legolas. What torture, what morose he should feel, captured and tied to his own dead wife. So tragic. So sad." He raised his sword and brought it back down slowly to Aila's neck, and she could do nothing but close her eyes tightly. Behind him, Legolas could almost hear the steel touch Aila's throat. She let out such an unearthly scream that it rang across the camp and probably woke up elves in the castle. He shuddered, his elven hearing picking up the noise tenfold, and his immediate impression was that she had been killed, but he felt her squirming against his bruised back and he took heart.
"No!" He shouted, turning his head towards Glorinul. "Do not kill her. Whatever you want from me, I will do whatever I can to give you. I will do what you want, but let Aila live."
…
A/N: I like that nice little cliffhanger. More will be revealed about the Light Bearer and her abilities. Have I not mentioned that the elves of Rivendell, Lorien, and Ithilien each have gifts for her that were specially customized to her powers? And Ithilien elves have arrived in Mirkwood and she has yet to receive her object! Woohoohoo. Anyway, ha, ha, ha. I'm going to see LOTR: The Two Towers tomorrow. With my best buddy Ally. Ah yes. (I met my bro's girlfriend today. God, what a whore.)