Title: Diplomacy Part 3
Author: Arisma
Rating: R Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own LOTR, the characters, the settings, any of it. I write non-fan based fiction and this story is the product of that line being crossed with my unhealthy fixation with a certain elf. I'm making no money off this, in any way, shape or form, though feedback is better than cheesecake. Feedback: chalice_nazarene@hotmail.com
Sunlight brushed his cheek and he woke with a gasp, flinging his arms up to ward away a blow that had long since fallen. Strong hands grasped his shoulders and he cried out, opening his eyes and staring around the room with a potent mixture of anger and fear. Sunlight streamed through the windows, glittering on the alabaster floor, stretching across the bright white of the bedding, nearly blinding him with the glare.
"Easy, my prince, easy, please." came a soft plea and somehow it broke through his confusion. He looked to the owner of the hands and saw a young elf, his dark blue eyes full of concern and tenderness. He knew the elfs name but could not pull it form the haze of his memory. He opened his mouth to speak but found he had no words with which to voice his confusion.
"Calm, please, prince." Said the elf, making soothing gestures with his hands. Treian, a healer, he remembered suddenly, swallowing deeply and trying to find his voice.
"Where. how long have I been here?" Legolas asked, his voice soft and raspy.
The healer looked at him calmly, with a look of sympathy in his dark eyes. "You have been here near a week, milord. I hadn't expected you to wake so soon, truth be told." He stretched a hand out and carefully prodded Legolas' cheek, nodding as he winced away from the touch.
"Still tender, I see." He said, standing and walking to a nearby cupboard, opening the doors and taking several small jars and setting them on a table. He turned his back to Legolas, blocking his view of the table, but he could tell from the sounds and smells that the elf was preparing something.
He returned within moments, a square of cloth carefully laden with a deep green unguent, smelling strongly of mint and lavender. Carefully brushing the princes hair behind his ear he laid the cloth against the bruised flesh and said, "This should help ease the ache, milord. Are you hungry? I can send for food if you wish."
Legolas nodded, raising his hand to hold the cloth in place. As he did, he saw the paler flesh circling one finger, the place his signet once rested. The final moments of the battle rushed back to him; straddling her prone form as he fought desperately to protect her, the leaves caught in her dark hair, screaming for a healer, the large elf stalking towards him, rage painted on his features.
Ignoring the question he asked instead "Rhya. the Quel commander. where is she? How is she?" He knew his eyes revealed too much as he searched the healers face but he couldn't find the will to suppress the emotion in them.
Treian smiled at him and said, "The lady is mending well, lord, though her wounds were more serious in some aspects than yours." his voice trailed away and he made his way towards the door, calling to a passing servant. "What would you like to eat, milord?"
"Anything, truly." He replied, anxious to know more about the elf maids' condition. He bit his lip and twirled the sheet with impatience as the healer spoke to the servant at length before finally returning his attention to Legolas.
"How is the pain, milord?" he asked, gently removing the cloth and lightly touching the length of the injured cheekbone.
"Better, truly." Legolas answered, letting the man prod the tender flesh.
The healer smiled and moved across the room, opening another cupboard and removing a bundle of cloth before returning to the wounded elfs side. "Lets see how your legs are working, milord. Perhaps a walk in the gardens until your repast arrives?" He raised his eyebrows expectantly at Legolas and held out the robe for him to slip into.
Sighing deeply, Legolas pushed himself up and slid carefully from the bed, grimacing at the pain that flared throughout his body. His mind raced as Treian wrapped the robe carefully around him, guiding his arm carefully into the sleeve. Had he really been so injured in the fighting? Why had the large elf reacted to him so viciously? Surely there was a reasonable explanation for it all, if only he could speak with Rhya, perhaps he would understand.
He let the elf guide him from the room, unaware of the small clucking noises the healer made as he watched him walk. The sun felt warm and right on his skin as he slowly made his way through the gardens, stopping occasionally to run his fingers along a silken petal or to smell a favorite flower. All too soon Treian was guiding him back into the house of healing, insisting his dinner would be there already.
Resigned to his fate as an invalid, he followed meekly, smiling slightly at the pleased expression on the healers face. As the approached the wide, curved stairs of the building he raised his eyes to the balconies and saw her standing, wrapped in a robe of the palest blue, resting on the railing and gazing into the distance with a look of sadness on her fair face.
"Rhya!" he called, unthinking in his joy of seeing her. Her gaze dropped immediately to him and he saw her eyes light as a smile curved her lips. She opened her mouth to speak when a large shape appeared behind her, turning her to face him. He watched helplessly as she argued briefly with Kallo, feeling anger well within him as the large elf pulled her inside, closing the doors with a decisive thud.
He tried to move towards the balcony, but the healers grip on his arm was to strong, preventing him from going in any direction but the one he least wanted. He saw the stern look on Treian's face and knew it was a hopeless struggle, at least while he remained so weak. Soon he settled back in the bed, watching as the healer carefully propped pillows behind him before laying out a feast of mild foods.
He began to eat, his appetite returning slowly. He thought of the look of happiness on her face and smiled as he chewed. He thought of the look of bitterness twisting the large elfs features and the smile slipped away. He realized suddenly that he knew nothing of her arrangements, that she could possibly belong to someone else, possibly even the large elf who seemed to guard her so jealously. It took him a long time to finish his meal, the carefully prepared food tasting suddenly like ashes.
Author: Arisma
Rating: R Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own LOTR, the characters, the settings, any of it. I write non-fan based fiction and this story is the product of that line being crossed with my unhealthy fixation with a certain elf. I'm making no money off this, in any way, shape or form, though feedback is better than cheesecake. Feedback: chalice_nazarene@hotmail.com
Sunlight brushed his cheek and he woke with a gasp, flinging his arms up to ward away a blow that had long since fallen. Strong hands grasped his shoulders and he cried out, opening his eyes and staring around the room with a potent mixture of anger and fear. Sunlight streamed through the windows, glittering on the alabaster floor, stretching across the bright white of the bedding, nearly blinding him with the glare.
"Easy, my prince, easy, please." came a soft plea and somehow it broke through his confusion. He looked to the owner of the hands and saw a young elf, his dark blue eyes full of concern and tenderness. He knew the elfs name but could not pull it form the haze of his memory. He opened his mouth to speak but found he had no words with which to voice his confusion.
"Calm, please, prince." Said the elf, making soothing gestures with his hands. Treian, a healer, he remembered suddenly, swallowing deeply and trying to find his voice.
"Where. how long have I been here?" Legolas asked, his voice soft and raspy.
The healer looked at him calmly, with a look of sympathy in his dark eyes. "You have been here near a week, milord. I hadn't expected you to wake so soon, truth be told." He stretched a hand out and carefully prodded Legolas' cheek, nodding as he winced away from the touch.
"Still tender, I see." He said, standing and walking to a nearby cupboard, opening the doors and taking several small jars and setting them on a table. He turned his back to Legolas, blocking his view of the table, but he could tell from the sounds and smells that the elf was preparing something.
He returned within moments, a square of cloth carefully laden with a deep green unguent, smelling strongly of mint and lavender. Carefully brushing the princes hair behind his ear he laid the cloth against the bruised flesh and said, "This should help ease the ache, milord. Are you hungry? I can send for food if you wish."
Legolas nodded, raising his hand to hold the cloth in place. As he did, he saw the paler flesh circling one finger, the place his signet once rested. The final moments of the battle rushed back to him; straddling her prone form as he fought desperately to protect her, the leaves caught in her dark hair, screaming for a healer, the large elf stalking towards him, rage painted on his features.
Ignoring the question he asked instead "Rhya. the Quel commander. where is she? How is she?" He knew his eyes revealed too much as he searched the healers face but he couldn't find the will to suppress the emotion in them.
Treian smiled at him and said, "The lady is mending well, lord, though her wounds were more serious in some aspects than yours." his voice trailed away and he made his way towards the door, calling to a passing servant. "What would you like to eat, milord?"
"Anything, truly." He replied, anxious to know more about the elf maids' condition. He bit his lip and twirled the sheet with impatience as the healer spoke to the servant at length before finally returning his attention to Legolas.
"How is the pain, milord?" he asked, gently removing the cloth and lightly touching the length of the injured cheekbone.
"Better, truly." Legolas answered, letting the man prod the tender flesh.
The healer smiled and moved across the room, opening another cupboard and removing a bundle of cloth before returning to the wounded elfs side. "Lets see how your legs are working, milord. Perhaps a walk in the gardens until your repast arrives?" He raised his eyebrows expectantly at Legolas and held out the robe for him to slip into.
Sighing deeply, Legolas pushed himself up and slid carefully from the bed, grimacing at the pain that flared throughout his body. His mind raced as Treian wrapped the robe carefully around him, guiding his arm carefully into the sleeve. Had he really been so injured in the fighting? Why had the large elf reacted to him so viciously? Surely there was a reasonable explanation for it all, if only he could speak with Rhya, perhaps he would understand.
He let the elf guide him from the room, unaware of the small clucking noises the healer made as he watched him walk. The sun felt warm and right on his skin as he slowly made his way through the gardens, stopping occasionally to run his fingers along a silken petal or to smell a favorite flower. All too soon Treian was guiding him back into the house of healing, insisting his dinner would be there already.
Resigned to his fate as an invalid, he followed meekly, smiling slightly at the pleased expression on the healers face. As the approached the wide, curved stairs of the building he raised his eyes to the balconies and saw her standing, wrapped in a robe of the palest blue, resting on the railing and gazing into the distance with a look of sadness on her fair face.
"Rhya!" he called, unthinking in his joy of seeing her. Her gaze dropped immediately to him and he saw her eyes light as a smile curved her lips. She opened her mouth to speak when a large shape appeared behind her, turning her to face him. He watched helplessly as she argued briefly with Kallo, feeling anger well within him as the large elf pulled her inside, closing the doors with a decisive thud.
He tried to move towards the balcony, but the healers grip on his arm was to strong, preventing him from going in any direction but the one he least wanted. He saw the stern look on Treian's face and knew it was a hopeless struggle, at least while he remained so weak. Soon he settled back in the bed, watching as the healer carefully propped pillows behind him before laying out a feast of mild foods.
He began to eat, his appetite returning slowly. He thought of the look of happiness on her face and smiled as he chewed. He thought of the look of bitterness twisting the large elfs features and the smile slipped away. He realized suddenly that he knew nothing of her arrangements, that she could possibly belong to someone else, possibly even the large elf who seemed to guard her so jealously. It took him a long time to finish his meal, the carefully prepared food tasting suddenly like ashes.