Title: Diplomacy Part 11
Author: Arisma
Rating: R Disclaimer: To the tune of Leslie Gore, "You don't own me"- I don't own it, don't try to claim it in any way. I don't own it, don't hunt me down cause I'll never pay! . Feedback: chalice_nazarene@hotmail.com
For Kris- ask and ye shall receive! One more to fulfill your question, but had to start somewhere!
*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*` *`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`* She opened her eyes slowly, carefully, peering through shuttered lids at the room around her. She listened intently and after long minutes of silence she sat up, her eyes scanning her surroundings.
The room was luxurious, plushly carpeted and hung with an abundance of crimson silk. She stood and glanced down, groaning as she realized she too had been draped in the material, a familiar and frightening sigil embroidered in golden thread upon the breast of the nightgown. She ran her fingertips over the design her face growing very pale. She closed her eyes and tears streamed down her cheeks, her knees giving out and dropping her ungracefully to the floor.
She knelt, her eyes closed and her head bowed for minutes and then hours, silent and unmoving. The door opened with a creak and still she remained, not acknowledging her visitor. "Lady Rhyalla?" queried a soft female voice and she slowly raised her head, taking in the human standing before her.
"Yes." She answered, softly, watching the woman set a tray of food upon the small table by the door.
"I've brought your dinner, Lady." Said the woman, motioning towards the tray.
"Thank you, but I am not hungry." She said, her voice flat and emotionless.
The woman began to wring her hands and Rhya watched fascinated by the way her fingers twined and released. "But. . . my Lady. . . I was instructed to bring you a repast." She said, her voice tense.
"And you have done so." Said the kneeling elf, cocking her head to the side and regarding the woman with curiosity.
The woman fell to her knees, her face draining of color, her voice a low whine, "Please, Lady. He will punish me if you don't eat."
Rhya looked at the pleading woman with an impassive face and the human pleaded silently with her eyes, her face screwed into an expression of desperation.
"I am not hungry. . ." replied Rhya, dropping her gaze to the carpet, her voice sad and small.
The woman leaned very close, her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "He will punish your male if you don't eat."
Rhya's head snapped up so quickly the servant woman let out a frightened squeak, scrambling away from the fire in the previously docile elfs eyes. Rhya stood and walked towards her, her eyes locked on the cringing humans, her hands curled into tight fists.
"What did you say?" she asked in a low, menacing voice.
The womans mouth worked silently, her eyes bulging as the now menacing elf advanced with murder gleaming in her eyes. "I. . . I said that. . . that your male would be punished if you don't eat." She said, the words rushed at the end as the elf stood nose to nose with her.
Rhyas voice quavered slightly as she asked, "What male?"
"The blonde one M'lady, the one who arrived same time as you." Replied ther servant, bolstered slightly by the emotion in the elfs voice.
Rhya stepped back and took a deep breath, "Where is he?"
Taking a shaky breath the woman straightened, watching the she-elf warily. "In the training area, M'lady. They took him straight there, they did."
She nodded once, her face grave. "Who is training him?"
"Mistress Driza, M'Lady. I hear he's doing very well with it too. Hardly took any time for him to fall in line." The servant said, rambling as she edged her way to the door, eyeing the elf warily. She looped her hand cautiously around the knob, expecting an attack. Instead the other merely stood, arms hanging limp and head bowed.
She opened the door slowly and slipped out, closing the door softly behind her. Her knees quavered as she walked down the hall. "I won't be taking HER tray again any time soon." she muttered, turning the corner and quickly forgetting the strange elf.
Rhya again fell to her knees, unseeing eyes focused on the crimson carpet. She felt hot tears trickle down her face and she let them fall, a soft whimpering sound coming form the back of her throat. The tears flowed harder and her shoulders began to shake as she sobbed, leaning forward and burying her face in her hands, the carpet rough against her skin. The sun slowly set and her sobbing slowly subsided. She curled onto her side and sniffled lightly, her eyes swollen and red. She closed her eyes, a whisper leaving her as sleep claimed her, "Legolas. . ."
*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*` *`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*
A/N-
Hey guys. . . I'm not feeling the love here. I slave writing chapter after chapter, blistering my poor fingers, typing so much my keys don't even clack anymore and what do I ask for in return? Just hit the little button in the corner that says review. C'mon, please?
On a separate note, I have another chapter typed, but my beta nearly poo'd her pants when she read it, and I am wondering if perhaps the muse has gone too far. Its powerful and all, but it's a bit graphic and disturbing too.
No, Legolas doesn't get killed. I'd never be able to get the sentence out without fainting.
But its intense. I think in the end it would strengthen his relationship (If there is one, which c'mon, that's the whole point of the genre, right?) with Rhyalla. But it is not vanilla by any stretch of the word. So what I would like is for everyone who has an opinion to drop me a line, either reviewing or by private email (chalice_nazarene@hotmail.com) and tell me if I should go with my muses angsty instincts or try to convince her to make it more. . . palatable.
Really, opinions count. Ask the ones who have had somewhat custom chapters.
Hope to hear from you soon, so I can figure out what to do.
Peace to all
~Arisma~
PS- Hit the review button, please!
Author: Arisma
Rating: R Disclaimer: To the tune of Leslie Gore, "You don't own me"- I don't own it, don't try to claim it in any way. I don't own it, don't hunt me down cause I'll never pay! . Feedback: chalice_nazarene@hotmail.com
For Kris- ask and ye shall receive! One more to fulfill your question, but had to start somewhere!
*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*` *`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`* She opened her eyes slowly, carefully, peering through shuttered lids at the room around her. She listened intently and after long minutes of silence she sat up, her eyes scanning her surroundings.
The room was luxurious, plushly carpeted and hung with an abundance of crimson silk. She stood and glanced down, groaning as she realized she too had been draped in the material, a familiar and frightening sigil embroidered in golden thread upon the breast of the nightgown. She ran her fingertips over the design her face growing very pale. She closed her eyes and tears streamed down her cheeks, her knees giving out and dropping her ungracefully to the floor.
She knelt, her eyes closed and her head bowed for minutes and then hours, silent and unmoving. The door opened with a creak and still she remained, not acknowledging her visitor. "Lady Rhyalla?" queried a soft female voice and she slowly raised her head, taking in the human standing before her.
"Yes." She answered, softly, watching the woman set a tray of food upon the small table by the door.
"I've brought your dinner, Lady." Said the woman, motioning towards the tray.
"Thank you, but I am not hungry." She said, her voice flat and emotionless.
The woman began to wring her hands and Rhya watched fascinated by the way her fingers twined and released. "But. . . my Lady. . . I was instructed to bring you a repast." She said, her voice tense.
"And you have done so." Said the kneeling elf, cocking her head to the side and regarding the woman with curiosity.
The woman fell to her knees, her face draining of color, her voice a low whine, "Please, Lady. He will punish me if you don't eat."
Rhya looked at the pleading woman with an impassive face and the human pleaded silently with her eyes, her face screwed into an expression of desperation.
"I am not hungry. . ." replied Rhya, dropping her gaze to the carpet, her voice sad and small.
The woman leaned very close, her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "He will punish your male if you don't eat."
Rhya's head snapped up so quickly the servant woman let out a frightened squeak, scrambling away from the fire in the previously docile elfs eyes. Rhya stood and walked towards her, her eyes locked on the cringing humans, her hands curled into tight fists.
"What did you say?" she asked in a low, menacing voice.
The womans mouth worked silently, her eyes bulging as the now menacing elf advanced with murder gleaming in her eyes. "I. . . I said that. . . that your male would be punished if you don't eat." She said, the words rushed at the end as the elf stood nose to nose with her.
Rhyas voice quavered slightly as she asked, "What male?"
"The blonde one M'lady, the one who arrived same time as you." Replied ther servant, bolstered slightly by the emotion in the elfs voice.
Rhya stepped back and took a deep breath, "Where is he?"
Taking a shaky breath the woman straightened, watching the she-elf warily. "In the training area, M'lady. They took him straight there, they did."
She nodded once, her face grave. "Who is training him?"
"Mistress Driza, M'Lady. I hear he's doing very well with it too. Hardly took any time for him to fall in line." The servant said, rambling as she edged her way to the door, eyeing the elf warily. She looped her hand cautiously around the knob, expecting an attack. Instead the other merely stood, arms hanging limp and head bowed.
She opened the door slowly and slipped out, closing the door softly behind her. Her knees quavered as she walked down the hall. "I won't be taking HER tray again any time soon." she muttered, turning the corner and quickly forgetting the strange elf.
Rhya again fell to her knees, unseeing eyes focused on the crimson carpet. She felt hot tears trickle down her face and she let them fall, a soft whimpering sound coming form the back of her throat. The tears flowed harder and her shoulders began to shake as she sobbed, leaning forward and burying her face in her hands, the carpet rough against her skin. The sun slowly set and her sobbing slowly subsided. She curled onto her side and sniffled lightly, her eyes swollen and red. She closed her eyes, a whisper leaving her as sleep claimed her, "Legolas. . ."
*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*` *`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*
A/N-
Hey guys. . . I'm not feeling the love here. I slave writing chapter after chapter, blistering my poor fingers, typing so much my keys don't even clack anymore and what do I ask for in return? Just hit the little button in the corner that says review. C'mon, please?
On a separate note, I have another chapter typed, but my beta nearly poo'd her pants when she read it, and I am wondering if perhaps the muse has gone too far. Its powerful and all, but it's a bit graphic and disturbing too.
No, Legolas doesn't get killed. I'd never be able to get the sentence out without fainting.
But its intense. I think in the end it would strengthen his relationship (If there is one, which c'mon, that's the whole point of the genre, right?) with Rhyalla. But it is not vanilla by any stretch of the word. So what I would like is for everyone who has an opinion to drop me a line, either reviewing or by private email (chalice_nazarene@hotmail.com) and tell me if I should go with my muses angsty instincts or try to convince her to make it more. . . palatable.
Really, opinions count. Ask the ones who have had somewhat custom chapters.
Hope to hear from you soon, so I can figure out what to do.
Peace to all
~Arisma~
PS- Hit the review button, please!