Another week and another chapter. I am so happy that I have received reviews and mails from people who have actually picked out some details and the heavy symbolism that I have embedded and scattered throughout the story. No doubt that I intend to answer all questions and reveal all mysteries in time. But…..in DUE time.
I am aware that fanfiction.net has the tendency to upload my chapters late. But it is beyond me. Sigh – so much for technology!
Life is a Masquerade. Hail to all those who have the courage to shed all their garments and lift all their masks!
When they returned to the hotel, Baeron was sitting in the waiting area of the lobby. At his sight, Irulan felt a sudden and definite warmth seeping into her spirit. She grinned at his expensive dark grey cotton pants with a blaring crimson velvet jacket on top. As always, he was immaculate but highly…eccentric. She barely kept herself from running up to him and after reaching him laughed with open delight and excitement and embraced him. The elf chuckled with amusement before he held her by the shoulders, giving her an inspecting look.
"You look even better, if such a thing is possible, Irulan," he said with deep amusement.
"You elves!" she smirked, but blushed nevertheless. Baeron gave the other elf a respectful bow with the head and Legolas replied in a similar manner.
"How was your trip?" he asked her then.
"Fabulous! I am so lucky to be with Legolas," she said with childish sincerity. Legolas broke into the most beautiful smile at that and gently grasped her hand.
Baeron remained still for a moment, his eyes wandering over the unaware couple and their entwined hands. "I see," he said slowly with a gentle tone. A swift expression of sadness crossed his face. But no one was looking and he stuffed it away before anyone did. Irulan and Legolas remained locked to each other, both in smiles, while the other elf observed them in silent amusement, crossing his arms on his chest. It was Irulan who broke the atmosphere: "Have you brought our costumes?"
"Of course I have. They have already been delivered to your room."
Both elves watched with deep amusement how the supposedly mature woman from New York literally jumped twice with that news. "Let's GO!" she whispered in urgency. Baeron and Legolas looked at each other, then simultaneously broke into chuckles, shaking their heads. Legolas only waved his arm, motioning her to lead the way and Irulan eagerly walked up to the elevator.
"How have you been?" asked the Scout gently once they were moving up.
"I have been VERY good," Irulan grinned, receiving a penetrating look from the Prince.
Legolas was too well mannered to step in to tell the truth or scold Baeron in front of the woman. Thankfully Baeron was an elf as well and instead of gaining satisfaction with her reply, turned to the Prince with questioning eyes.
"I was present and no harm has come to her," he said finally.
Baeron pursed his lips and cast his eyes down with open regret and shame. He nodded curtly and said nothing, but Irulan, who felt simply too close to him to allow him any sadness, hastily intervened: "Yes, Legolas was with me! Nothing happened!" She waved her hand dismissively, "I just had this stupid bad dream and…" When Legolas cleared his throat, she bit her lower lip and hesitated for a moment. "I was a little afraid, yes, but...." Another clearing of the throat. At this point Baeron could not suppress his grin any further and looked down at her with pure adoration. "All right, all right!" she protested, rolling her eyes, "I was more than a little afraid!" She threw Legolas a poisonous look and the man simply stared back blankly. "But…" she spat then with annoyance and turned a warmer face to the Scout once more, "…it is behind me now!"
"I am glad to hear that, King-daughter," was the soft response.
They arrived at the room and Irulan raced to the bedroom where the package was placed. The two elves remained behind, crossing their arms on their chests in a similar fashion and looking at the bedroom door. "Was it very bad?" Baeron said finally, not turning around to face the other man.
"She is strong," was the simple reply.
His face fell at this evading answer. "I am glad that you were there," he sighed, this time daring a glance.
Legolas nodded and locked eyes with him. His expression was unreadable. "And I will be so. Always," he said finally with a peculiar tone of voice.
The other elf looked away and nodded absent-mindedly. Though for anyone else his disturbance at this news would be well hidden, to Legolas it was very evident but he said nothing to change it.
"Oh my GOD!" came the shriek from the bedroom and it ended the tenseness. No Firstborn could have remained composed at the sight of a five year old Irulan running back to them with a long garment in her arms. Though they really did their best in trying. Thus, the simultaneous pursing of lips and the tangible effort to frown. "Legolas! Look!" She arrived by his side and waved the dress in front of his nose with excitement.
"Ah...lovely!" the Prince said, allowing himself a small smile and holding up the dress to see what kind of costume it was.
A surprise appeared on his face then and he blinked before he looked up to the gleeful Irulan. Then he turned to the other man who had once again regained his fabulous cool and was grinning back at him. When the Prince's expression ever so slightly blurred into mock scolding, Baeron just shrugged, grinning broader. "Irulan will look magnificent in this." He locked his lovely hazel eyes with hers. "Even more so than Anariel, who once wore it, ages upon ages ago."
"Oh my God!" was her statement before she flew up to him and gave him a sound kiss on the cheek. It was so unexpected that even Baeron -being the swift elf that he was- failed to see it coming and almost toppled over. He laughed heartily a moment later and embraced her in return.
Before Legolas' expression could turn into annoyance, she was embracing him. This time the kiss was on the lips and a moment after that the garment was torn from his hands and Irulan had disappeared into the bedroom. Legolas, his hand traveling to his lips, looked after her for a moment, then turned to an equally baffled Baeron who had his fingers on his cheek, staring back at him. Almost simultaneously both stiffened and to their own amazement, chose the same moment to clear their throats. Overly irritated by that, Legolas clasped his hands behind his back and glared at him. "I should have known that you would pick something like that," he said with a tone that held both chiding and yet amusement.
The Scout shrugged and grinned again. "I thought, since she loves it so much, a taste of Middle Earth would be nice."
Legolas could not keep off a smile from his lips as he gazed back to the bedroom door. Just at that moment Irulan yelled: "Legolas! Come and see your own costume! You won't believe this!" The Prince gently shook his head and appeared by the bedroom door, chuckling softly. "Look!" whispered Irulan in urgency, holding up the chest piece of an armor.
He smiled wider as he walked up to take it from her. The rusty brown was exactly the tone he remembered it to be. His fingers slowly followed the intricate pattern of the image of the White Tree that stood out with a soft glow and, even after such an incredibly long time, refused to fade. "I wore one of these," he whispered, almost to himself, "a long time ago."
Irulan came to stand before him and he looked down to meet her beautiful and deep brown gaze. "In the Pelennor Fields?" she whispered.
"No," he sighed, returning his inspection to the item once again. "I always found such human armors immensely uncomfortable for combat. But...I wore one during the crowning of Estel." Once again their eyes met as she chose to remain completely still. "He was speechless to see me in it," he added with a slight grin.
He did not expect it, but Irulan closed the distance between them and slowly embraced his shoulders. Legolas moved the heavy article to his right hand, dropping his arm and then embraced her back with his left, inhaling her hair. The sadness of old memories mingled with the joy of his current time and the mixture was a strange and utterly new one. But everything else faded away when Irulan delivered a soft and tender kiss on his lips. This feeling of being loved and cherished and wanted by her was unlike anything he had encountered in his entire life. It was like a potent drug that delivered incredible pleasure and of which he could never have enough.
"You do not have to wear it if you don't want to," she said gently, touching his cheek.
Legolas was so engulfed in the afterglow of her lips on his and the current touch of her fingers, it took him a moment or two to drag himself out of that daze. "No," he whispered, "why should I not? I have missed it." Irulan smiled a fabulous smile and folded his hand between hers while he stood gazing down at her, mesmerized. "Besides," he managed to say a short while later, "As a warrior of Gondor and man of honor, it would be my duty to take care of my elven lady. I could possibly not let you wander off alone!" A grin accompanied that statement and gained a gleeful chuckle from Irulan.
"Do you like your costumes?" came Baeron's voice then and both turned to see him leaning on the doorframe, his arms crossed on his chest and that famous amused grin on his handsome features.
"Of course!" beamed Irulan, letting go of Legolas' hand to retrieve her dress from the bed. "It is so beautiful," she whispered in awe, holding it up. "It is an elven gown, yes?"
"It is," grinned Baeron, cocking his head. "I thought this night you can be an elf and we..." with that he walked up to the other man and clasped his shoulder, "...can be human, for a change."
"Baeron, you are a genius!" she said, her eyes full with stars.
"I know," he sighed, pulling them all into laughter.
***
Legolas softly sat on the edge of the bed, facing her and after a moment, began to run his fingers through her hair. Irulan did not look up immediately as she remained leaning on her outstretched right arm, her left hand caressing the soft fabric of the gown. His eyes followed her movement and glided down to her dress that was as fabulous as only an elven garment could be. Cream colored, embroidered with light blue and silver leaves, it shone and shimmered to the eye. The utmost detail of its intricate pattern, the glow of the fabric, and the elegance of its shape –especially against the fact that it was thousands of years old- would make the ugliest woman beautiful. But on her...it simply looked...
He gave up trying to find the word. There was no description to his feelings at this moment. Too see the shimmer of the fabric alone was like seeing the shimmer of the past. It even smelled of the past! He inhaled slowly, feeling his mind spin; feeling it try hard to return to that golden time.
"How do I look?" she whispered finally and for the first time held his gaze.
Instead of answering, Legolas raised his hand and glided it over her cheeks, down her neck, the front of the dress, down to her lap that held the many folds of the long skirt. "Words would not do," he whispered, locking eyes with her.
She smiled in amusement. "Well...is there any other way?"
Before she found the time to blink, he gripped her nape and pulled her to himself, clasping his lips on hers. Irulan hesitated only a moment before she leaned into him, her hands moving up his shoulders. Perfect passion, love and adoration was embedded in the action, along with unbelievable demand and desire. His tongue dived into her mouth, tasting every corner of it with fierce fire. A sigh escaped from her and made Legolas pull her even closer, melting her into him. She gasped for breath when he finally allowed her to pull away. "It looks fabulous on you. Better than I can imagine it to look on anyone else," he breathed with a husky whisper, his liquid blue eyes boring into her.
Her eyes traveled down then and for the first time, she realized his attire. Her breath literally caught in her throat at the view in front of her. Tantalized and completely swept away by his appearance, Irulan's fingers slid down over the metal of his breastplate, following the intricate designs of the tree, down to his navel. Legolas always had been an elf to her. Sure, there were times she had been tempted to forget that and think of him as a man…but that was only natural. Elves were masters in blending in and had the skill of making one forget their true nature when such was their intention.
However…with the outfit of a Gondorian warrior it was simply undeniable that this creature before her was something completely alien to her. She locked eyes with his blue orbs that still gazed at her with deep desire and possession, then swallowed hard with the effect he had on her by simply looking like this. No modern outfit – not even the best fabric and the greatest designer could make Legolas look more divine than he did at this moment. For this was HIS time and HIS way and it was majestic to say the least.
"You look…you look fabulous, Legolas," she whispered, her awe easily recognizable.
His predatory expression did not change at all while he gently squeezed her fingers. "My sentiments exactly," he said then, his gaze gliding over her gown again. Her hands wandered down his shoulders, feeling the rough tunic underneath, amazed by its texture and its brilliance to withstand time. No doubt that Baeron had kept it properly to prevent it from falling apart, but it looked as if it was sewn yesterday. He smiled broader and imitated her by gliding his fingers in lazy circles down her chest before they fanned out and grasped her waist. With unexpected strength the elf lifted her easily, pulling her to himself in one swift movement. Irulan laughed softly with surprise, placing her arms around his neck. "Will you accompany me tonight, my lady?" he whispered, grinning.
"I don't know," she sighed loftily. "I have many suitors."
Legolas growled and placed his hand on her neck, grasping her jawbone. "Don't you know that a man of Gondor would not take 'no' for an answer?"
Irulan could not help herself laugh giddily at that. The elf smiled in return and pulled her face to place a slow kiss on her cheek. She sighed and leaned into his ministrations willingly and for many minutes they kissed in tender silence, admiring each other and feeling the love for one another swell into something glorious and heart-warming. Perhaps in their engulfed state and their current attires, to the outside observer they might even have appeared like a couple living in ancient times. And since neither the time, nor their races really mattered, such an observation would not change the fact that it was a wondrous thing growing that night in that particular room – that miraculous thing that was beautiful and moving in every time, between every sort of people, in every setting.
"I…have to…braid your hair," Legolas mumbled in between kisses. To be honest, at the moment he did not want to do anything else than continuing to taste her sweet mouth – even if it meant missing out on anything else.
Irulan was not in a too different state and though she commanded them to, her arms refused to release their embrace on his neck. "Do so," she managed to whisper finally. Neither pulled back though, and their kissing continued for another short while and only broke because Baeron's voice from the other room interrupted:
"Irulan! I swear you take as long time to dress as elven maidens did! Heavens, I had forgotten about their frustrating ways!"
Irulan pursed her lips and leaned her forehead on his. Both elf and woman broke into a grin, and a moment after that, soft chuckles. "I completely forgot him!" she whispered, a little embarrassed.
Legolas grinned broader. "Don't expect me to feel anything but happy about that." She nudged him softly with mock anger and he cupped her face once more, placing a final kiss on her lips.
"That is why I love this century!" moaned Baeron in continuance. "There are women who just put on jeans and a shirt and voila – they are ready! I ADMIRE that!" The last part was distinctively louder, probably meant to be heard by the couple.
She laughed and drew back as Legolas gave the door an overly amused look. "Stop your fretting, Baeron!" he exclaimed with that beautiful voice of his. "Irulan is almost ready."
"Legolas!" came the frustrated shout instantly. "Have mercy, my friend! My elven patience has waned out millennia ago!"
"So I see," mumbled the other, shaking his head with mock scolding while Irulan laughed harder.
"All right! Give me a moment for God's sake!" she said finally, getting up to go to the bathroom.
She washed her face and heard Legolas opening the door while Baeron just continued his complaining. Irulan chuckled to herself, then grasping a towel to dry her face, stepped into the room. Baeron, who, in the face of Legolas' incredible patience, was now recollecting all the things that had annoyed him about elven women and their habits in the Old Days, was stunned into silence with her appearance. "Were they bickering as much as you do?" she said with an open grin, walking up to him.
He did not answer and only looked her up and down several times in a very strange manner. Irulan halted before him, trying to lock eyes, but Baeron moved away and chose to encircle her instead. She almost laughed out about that peculiar behavior of elves, remembering that not too long ago Legolas had performed the very same thing on her. Only after the round was complete did the elf stop and lock his amazingly beautiful eyes with her. It was her time to take in his impossibly handsome masculine figure, that seemed only pronounced by the identical armor he wore. "I was right," he said finally, breaking into that damnable smile of his. "You look far better than Anariel did."
It was hard not to fall prey to the spell of these elves – especially now that they looked they way they did and she was aware of their true identity. She blushed a little, her eyes finding an amused Legolas, who was leaning on the wall, his arms crossed on his chest. "I really doubt that," she laughed finally. The stillness made her nervous, and both elves seemed content enough with it not to break it. Another moment passed as the men just kept looking at her and Irulan played nervously with her skirts, unsure what to do.
"This brings back too many memories," sighed Baeron finally. He sorted out a single strand and glided his fingers down it slowly. "And I take it all back," he added a moment later, with a mischievous expression. "It was well worth the wait."
Irulan grinned openly to that. "Good! Because Legolas still has to braid my hair."
"In the name of Mandos himself!" he protested then, and the room rung with his frustrated voice while the woman shrugged loftily and gathering her skirts, walked up to an eagerly waiting Legolas just when a cheerful music started outside in the street and with its tune, the current times evaporated into an age of fairy tales and mystery.
****
The Masquerade had no specific location. Or if, the whole city was the location. There were, however, special clubs and houses who had prepared indoors activities, and Baeron had already made reservation in the most acknowledged one.
When Irulan stepped out of the hotel into the street, flanked by the two elves who wore the Gondorian armors, she knew instantly that they would be the center of attention anywhere they went. Because on both the conscious and subconscious level, everyone noticed the strange originality and beauty of their costumes and, more than that, each person that took a look at them perceived the peculiar attractiveness of the elves that had the appearance of her personal bodyguards. Neither of the three had any intentions of wearing a mask. But then, there were many who had chosen not to. What made THEM so unique was, no doubt, the ethereal beauty of the two men walking beside her, and the elven garment she was wearing.
Irulan, feeling giddy, happy and free, placed her hands in the crooks of their arms, walking down the road that held every possible costume. Some of these where costumes of certain characters or fictional people. Others were just garments like hers - fit for another age and time. Some were both and some were none. The shower of color and light was amazing and she felt like a child in a toy store.
"I hope your shoes are comfortable," mused Baeron, "for we shall dance till the morning light!"
"Dance?!"
Both elves looked down at her horrified tone. "Yes," said Baeron in amusement and gave Legolas a wink, "It is what one does in celebrations, no?"
They watched her swallow softly. "I...prefer not to."
"Why is that?" asked Legolas and she did not look up to see him grin.
"Well...I am not much of a dancer."
Baeron gasped in mock shock and placed his hand on hers. "This is...unacceptable! Lord Legolas! Surely she must be joking!"
Legolas sighed, pretending regret. "It is partly my fault. I did not mention the Grand Waltz."
"The what?!" Her head snapped up to him but she found nothing to read in his blank expression.
"Don't worry, Irulan," he said gently, "Just follow our lead."
"Surely you don't expect me to waltz! I mean…I never did it before!" she said in terror.
"Too late now," said Baeron with irritation. "Where we are going, that's a must."
"Then let's not go there!"
"Don't worry Irulan. It's not that hard," said Legolas, barely keeping down a chuckle.
A very unelf-like snort erupted from Baeron at that and when she turned to him, he pretended to wipe the amusement from his face. "True enough," he said cautiously. "Depends on what you compare it to, of course."
They kept on terrorizing and teasing Irulan until she felt dizzy with the idea and gathered her skirts to turn around and walk back to the hotel. Both elves laughed for a long while at that, running after her and forcing her to turn around once more. The rest of the road they were chased by an utterly annoyed Irulan who, of course, did not even come close to catching them. "It's this stupid dress! Or else I would show you two!" she shouted in frustration.
The childish games ended when they arrived at a gigantic building that looked like a palace or an old, large mansion. The doors were wide open and many people were walking in and out while soft music reached their ears. After their names were confirmed at the entrance, the trio stepped into a shower of color, light, music and fabric that was stunning to the senses. Huge crystal chandeliers hung from the impossibly high ceiling, their light reflected on the golden designs of the walls. Some halls were empty and reserved for the dancing while others of the many rooms and terraces were decorated as restaurants our lounges or just chambers for those who felt tired and desired to sit and sip a drink. Some rooms held large Persian carpets with Ottoman pillows arranged around small tables - similar to the restaurant they had been to in Paris. Others housed a more modern air with regular sofas and couches. Still others had a more African atmosphere or an Oriental touch to them.
She strode from room to room with both elves following at her heels, observing her obvious shock and delight. "This is incredible!" she exclaimed after a good number of rooms, with still too many ahead of her. "I have never seen such glamour!"
"It is incomparable to the past," said Baeron then, leaning on the doorframe and giving the room that was embedded in red light and Chinese decoration a long, inspecting look.
"Wow," she just managed to say to that idea, trying to imagine how much more fancy and rich things could look.
"Pick a room and let us rest for a few minutes," Legolas said, brushing the hair over her shoulder.
"Here looks nice. But let me go to the restroom first."
They nodded and walked into the red room with sculptures of dragons and phoenixes to find a spot while Irulan asked someone for the ladies' room, then walked down the corridor.
Neither spoke until a waitress with a tray approached them and took their order of drinks. Legolas knew that Baeron would never let him pay for anything while they were together, so he did not attempt to. Such things held no importance amongst elves and they found the argument about money insulting and therefore avoided it at all times. Also, since all elves were fairly wealthy and had neither desire nor need for money, it was foolish to insist on paying as an act of courtesy. They rather got rid of the matter altogether by making the payment as quickly and silently as possible and closing the subject. Never did they try to lower a given price or attempt to get discounts. Finance was a means to an end for them and even then, they found it disturbing -almost repulsive, one could say- and walked around it, not talking about it except in matters that concerned the deeds and the budget of the Circle.
"You seem happier than I have seen you ever before, my Lord," Baeron said suddenly as the soothing tones of an Oriental folkloric song swept the room.
"I have Irulan now," Legolas replied, crossing his arms on his chest. His tone seemed both matter-of-fact and cautious.
"She is a fascinating woman," the other elf spoke quietly, gliding his fingers over the pattern of gold that was stitched onto the crimson fabric of his pillow.
"Baeron," began the Prince, for the first time making eye contact with him. A moment passed as expressionless blue locked to blank hazel. "We are giants striding this world of fragile and tender. You and me have learned this lesson in the most bitter fashion. But we HAVE learned, have we not?"
It took the Scout a moment to nod and reluctantly cast down his gaze. "Oh yes," he whispered, the grief in his voice almost strange for a Firstborn, "we have learned that lesson."
Legolas sighed, gazing to the door once more and crossing his arms on his chest. "Millennia have passed, and still her memory haunts me."
Baeron looked up then and the Prince felt forced to lock eyes with him once more. Much anger and regret was in those beautiful hazel eyes. "Not for a single day has it deserted me," was the bitter whisper of a reply.
Legolas nodded. "It was a heavy price and the payment will continue until we close our eyes a final time to this world. But..." his eyes turned icy in a matter of seconds, "...the deed will not be repeated. Ever again. I love Irulan."
"You loved Bentanta, too," was the low, but almost spiteful reply.
A reluctance and a deep sigh on the Prince's behalf. "She was a person of utmost value, whom I had the luck of meeting. And yes, the Valar know I loved her. But…not like this. Not like this, Baeron. This is different."
"I am happy for you, my Lord," he sighed and swallowed to get rid of the bitter tang of his tone that kept prevailing no matter how hard he tried. "I know how that feels." Their gazes locked again and a strength like no other emanated from both. A dangerous, solid and intimidating strength. "And I have tasted its loss as well."
Legolas did not reply. He resisted the urge to dig up the ancient arguments. Too many times they had exchanged those - too many times they had blamed each other with almost countless reasons. It was all said and repeated, then dug out and repeated some more. Neither had nothing new to add to it and neither wished to, anyway. "Do not worry," murmured Baeron finally, turning to look at the door, too. He forced a smile to return to his visage and though he succeeded in the act, the expression was more sad than gleeful. "You know that my respect and love for you has not altered a bit. And I carry deep affection for King-daughter, as well as for the rest of her kind. She has chosen you, I can see that. I would never interfere."
No elf, would, actually. Not under normal circumstances, anyway. But sometimes...well sometimes the heart reigned and even elves -perhaps ESPECIALLY elves- were not immune to its mad call. Then all borders were crossed and all rules diminished into dust. It was in those times that giants fought, their heavy feet thundering the earth and the sound of their sharp instruments ruling the heavens. Giants fought and any mortal who happened to be in the way died and perished from the heat of their dance of fury and passion.
"Thank you," Legolas said finally.
Baeron glanced back at him for a moment. "My honor, Lord Legolas." He held out his hand and the other elf grasped his wrist as their gazes remained locked.
"I hope this does not mean a secret agreement for another teasing episode on my behalf!" said Irulan with mock scolding as she approached them. Both almost simultaneously broke into a smile and turned to look up at her. She halted once she reached them, looking from one to the other, unable to decide which one looked more fabulous. They grinned up to her, again in similar fashion, and Irulan chuckled, gliding to sit between them. Legolas encircled her waist, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek and a moment after that their drinks arrived.
"To elves and humans!" said Baeron, raising his goblet.
"To dwarfs, Wizards and hobbits alike!" Legolas countered with a fabulous grin.
"To orcs and Uruk-hai!" added Irulan and enjoyed the shock on both faces before she laughed out loud and took a hefty gulp from her drink.
"To the fair gender!" exclaimed both Legolas and Baeron then, grinning at each other before they drank as well.
***
The rest of the night was like a fairy tale to her. The music, the food and not to mention, the overwhelming presence of these incredible creatures just blurred everything into one giant, amazing experience. They walked from room to room, and each chamber inspired one or the other to talk about this or that time or adventure. It was a true treat for her, for she loved their tales and all the people they had met. At times Irulan would tilt on Legolas and he would embrace her gently. The hard surface of the armor was uncomfortable under her face, but his embrace felt too good, and she would remain like that while Legolas combed through her hair, talking with Baeron about diverse matters, inspiring her fleeting thoughts and dreams for the upcoming hour. Then she would wake up from her daze and they would walk on to another room, standing in observation of the couples swinging around it and diving into another incredibly interesting conversation.
To her utter demise Baeron actually did force her to join him for a slow dance and all her begging to an amused Legolas did not help at all. The elf easily dragged her away towards the other couples who were dancing to a slow tune in that particular chamber. Though she was very uneasy about the dancing, the closeness of Baeron was a welcome thing. The bond of Sharing was fiercely strong and her connection to him seemed more evident with his proximity. Thankfully Baeron remained gentle and warm, but never flirtatious. Of course he must have seen her new relation to Legolas and as any other respectable elf would have done, had stepped silently aside, not repeating his offer.
"I have missed you," she sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. It was ridiculous but Baeron felt like her oldest friend who had been away for too long.
He laughed then. "And I have missed you, King-daughter," was the gentle reply, followed by an encouraging caress of her back.
"I might live in England," she sighed several moments later, pulling back a little to look at him. "With Legolas."
He smiled in reply. "That is a wise choice."
She bit her lower lip. Although he showed no bitterness at all, she felt somehow bad about the fact that she had chosen Legolas over him. "Will you come and visit us?"
He smirked a little. "England is not my favorite place," was his distant reply. "I prefer the plains of Kenya. Or the mountains of Tibet. Or the tundras of China. Perhaps you can join me there?" he grinned.
"Deal!" she said with enthusiasm.
Baeron laughed again and the sound chimed in her head. "You are too easy, Irulan!"
She shrugged deftly. "I see no need for pretense."
He looked down at her for a long moment and if she hadn't been drunk, she would have detect the admiration on his face. "Lord Legolas is a wonderful man, I am certain of that. While he is with you, you will never need any other. But...if you DO need help -in anything, Irulan- you have my numbers."
"Yes," she said, gently squeezing his shoulder.
"And I want to apologize again. You are too proud a person to say it, but I am certain that the Sharing has bothered you a lot."
"I would do it all over again," was her gentle response. "I have no regrets whatsoever, Baeron."
His hand on her waist gained a slightly stronger grasp as he kept looking down at her. "Don't tell Legolas," he whispered into her ear a moment later, "but those are my sentiments exactly." Irulan giggled as he pulled back, grinning down at her. "It was wrong to do it in the manner I did - I do not doubt that. But...I shall always remember my Sharing with you as a moment of great friendship and love, dear Irulan."
"So will I," she said, not diverting her gaze from his. A moment passed between them. "You speak as if we will never meet again!" she added then, with a nervous chuckle.
Baeron shrugged, a swift childish grin gliding over his visage. "Who knows?" His eyes glazed as she watched him become somber once more. "I blink and alas, a year has passed. I turn around, a decade has flown by. A moment's distraction and a century is lost. And everyone I loved and cared for, gone from my reach for all times."
For a moment and a moment only, his sentiments of impossibly deep sorrow pulsed out of him. A single wave that diffused and sank into the sands of time. And yet, she had felt it and it bound her to him like nothing else could. She stopped her movement and the elf blinked, halting himself. Her hand went up to his face and Baeron remained mesmerized as her warm palm was placed on his cool cheek. He too felt a great bond between them – something grander than the bond of the Sharing. The bond of sympathy. Of understanding. Of willingness to lean on one another. Of deep trust and brutal honesty. And as their skins touched in that peculiar fashion, he realized that he would die for this woman. Any given day.
The thoughts rushed through his head and his heart, rendering him even more speechless while Irulan held him with her dark eyes, as if holding a puppet by the strings. "Promise me then, that we will meet once more. Against all odds. No matter the distance. Whatever the circumstances. Promise!"
How could anyone promise such a thing? Who knew what tomorrow held? He shook his head, trying to convey his thoughts to her, but she pursed her lips and her look gained a more determined streak. "*I* promise then!" was the final statement and her usually tender and gentle voice was replaced with a tone that spoke of doubtless and harsh demand.
Baeron had never met the legendary Aragorn and seldom had he regretted missing a chance like that. During the time of the man, his battles had led him from one end of Middle Earth to the other and back. During Aragorn's reign, there was even more to do on behalf of Middle Earth and elves. And always had he intended to go to Minas Tirith to meet this man of whom all spoke with much reverence and awe. Time is a tricky thing for elves. Most never learn its impact on other creatures of this world unless they live amongst them for a prolonged period. Only these few come to learn never to postpone things and remain alert at all times. Only they remember to show effort not to slide back into the timeless reverie of their kind and forget that life flows by them with the speed of a wild river. When Baeron finally made it to the White City, it was sadly for the funeral of the great king. The funeral was only a day. The regret was forever.
But this day, when he was holding the man's great-great-great granddaughter in his arms, he recognized that something that seemingly everyone else had seen and observed and that he, in his idleness, had missed. No words would due justice to his momentary feelings. But maybe they could be resembled to a second chance for something very, very dear and important.
He breathed deeply and blinked to regain his focus. Irulan seemed to have lost her intensity as well and her eyes held only an honest pleading while she waited for his reaction. "Well...I guess then we WILL meet again," he said softly, bringing her hand up for a kiss.
She sighed with contentment, nodded, then turned in an attempt to locate Legolas amongst the crowd. "Shall we return now?" he said, observing her eagerness to find the other elf – and not completely without jealousy, one must add.
Irulan nodded once more. "I think I should sit a little. I feel somewhat dizzy."
Baeron grasped her hand and guided her to the large, dark terrace. She saw nothing in the dim light of the scattered lanterns, but he continued his walk and before long, they had arrived at the corner couch where Legolas was sitting. He had been gazing out to the city which looked splendid from this location and with their approach, turned to them, smiling brightly. An ivy-like plant provided a roof for the couch, and the single lantern hanging on the wooden structure lost underneath the plant, threw only the faintest of glimmers. It was enough for Irulan to see his figure and his silver hair and she walked up to him, almost collapsing into his embrace. He laughed then, pushing her hair aside to see her face. "What is it, my love? Was Baeron too merciless?"
She sighed and shifted a little to sit properly and embrace him back while the other elf chuckled in delight: "I believe on this trip Irulan drank enough for a lifetime! I doubt that she will ever touch wine again!"
Legolas grinned and pulled her slightly away to look down at her face. "Is that so?" he whispered gently.
"How come you guys never get drunk?" she protested, finally locking eyes with him.
"It takes a lot more to intoxicate an elf," she heard Baeron saying behind her, amusement heavy in his voice. "Though of course we are easy prey for beauty in any form and shape," was the matter-of-fact addition. Legolas laughed softly and Irulan sighed, gliding on the sofa to lie sideways on his chest. The elf folded her in his embrace as she relaxed and sank into the comfort of this position. "Allow me a short absence," Baeron said and though she had not heard or felt him get off the couch, his voice seemed to come from a little further away. "I believe I saw some familiar faces in the crowd tonight. Let me go and find out if that is so."
Many minutes passed and Irulan almost fell asleep as the elf combed his fingers through her hair. It was somewhat chilly but not very much so. Legolas was just thinking that this must be what contentment felt like when her whisper broke the spell: "Legolas," it came, almost inaudibly. He waited for her to continue, and she only did so after a moment's hesitation. "When you look in the mirror…what do you see?"
His waited in confusion, his pale fingers remaining in her dark waves. Almost a minute passed and finally, receiving no answer to her question, Irulan slowly sat up and turned to look him straight in the eye. His heart skipped a beat at the brown speckled with the moonlight. He froze completely when her fingers went up his cheek, gently gliding down. And yet silence prevailed between them. She sat a little back, smiling a beautiful smile. "What do you see?" she whispered softer, leaning towards him again. His breath caught in his throat when he felt the warmth of her body in the crispy air.
Irulan cocked her head and a wave traveled through her hair as it would through a flag. "Do you see your beauty?" She continued with a smile, and he could have sworn that he had never seen anything so gorgeous in his entire life. "Or have you grown used to it? Do you see what you are?" she whispered, crouching closer and despite himself, he reached out to grasp her waist, craving the contact.
"Tell me what YOU see, then," he replied, so dazed and lost, and so loving it.
"I see..." she sighed as he pulled her closer and she settled against him, her hands on his shoulders, her eyes inspecting his face, "...every person you have ever met. Every little thing that you have ever touched. Everything that has touched you. Moved you." She inhaled softly. "You are a gift, Legolas." Unable to hold back any longer and frustrated with the desire for her, he pulled her closer and kissed her cheek. She obliged to his demand, melting against him, her hand crawling around his neck to embrace him loosely. "I have never regretted being human," she sighed, laying her head on his shoulder. "And never thought of myself less than your kind." A moment passed and he embraced her stronger, pulling her against himself. "But now...at this moment...when I realize how...insufficient I am in understanding you...in ADMIRING you..." She sighed again and the frustration was evident in it, "This moment I prove all my past a lie."
"Don't speak like that," he managed to say, shocked by her words. Shocked, yes. But also incredibly overjoyed. Pleased. Honored. "You are perfect, Irulan."
She laughed at that – a tired, bitter laugh. "It must be true," she whispered, "if you say so."
"It IS true!" he said, almost with urgency, pulling her a little back to take a better look at her. "To me, you are."
Irulan smiled then, and her expression spoke of gratefulness. Which, to his demise, only made him more eager to convince her. She was a goddess! How could she not see? "WE are perfect," he whispered, cupping her chin to make her look up. "We will be", he added with sharp determinism. Irulan sighed and took his hand from her chin, kissing the palm.
"I would like that," was her late whisper. A strange sorrow came over her. The music in the background seemed to agree with her and assumed a sad tone. Perhaps it was because she was face to face with something that reminded her only how little she was. He would live uncountable years. She only the duration between an inhale and exhale. He was perfect. Immaculate. Wise and deep. She was anything but. Perhaps it was the tartness of injustice she felt at that. The intense need to belong to something, to be part of something like that. To reach beyond herself and touch something that was denied her and the rest of her kind.
"Irulan," he whispered, sensing her agony and not understanding it, and feeling overly anxious because of that, "why the sorrow?"
She smiled a broken smile and cast down her gaze once more. Legolas, overly disturbed by this sudden change, touched her chin to make her lock eyes with him again. "This does not seem like the Masquerade spirit," he said, forcing a slight amusement into his tone. She did not speak, but folded her own fingers over his hand and remained thus. "What is it, my love?"
"I...feel stupid!" she said, her shaky voice denoting that she was at the verge of crying. His alarm doubled at that and the blankness that hid his emotions automatically sank on his face.
"What do you mean?" he prodded on when she did not continue.
She took a deep breath and swallowed hard. "I can not find my place, Legolas!" A momentary silence followed, but he waited through it, though his heart ached with impatience. "I have no place in this world! Who am I? Am I to be solely the kin of a man who died ages upon ages ago?"
"You are a woman of great spirit and strength." His voice was hard and determined. "You will do important things in this world."
"What important things?" was the annoyed response.
The elf gave her a long, blank look before he spoke again. "Take your place in the Circle, Irulan." She froze at the solemn pleading in his voice. "You MUST."
They stared at each other for seemingly minutes and she felt her throat run dry. His blue eyes held her like a magnet holds metal – absolutely. Only when she managed to blink, did she get the chance to break from his gaze. Irulan nervously massaged her neck with her free hand while his continued the caress of her palm steadily. "I don't think…I really am not the kind of person…I mean…"
"We need you. We need your wisdom," he cut in. "You will contribute so much more than the rest of your kind who dominate it now in your absence!"
"My…my WISDOM?" was the bitter chuckle of a reply as Irulan wiped the new born tears from her cheeks. When Legolas just looked back in all seriousness, she finally sighed with discomfort and frustration. "I can not," was her late statement. "I know what you will say!" she broke in before he could object. "That it is my duty. My responsibility. My this and my that…I've heard it all before, trust me."
"Nonsense!" he said then, waving his hand. "Your DUTY? Who said such a foolish thing?" Irulan eyed him suspiciously, but to her amazement he did not seem mocking at all. "It is your salvation, my love," he continued with a low voice, leaning in closer again. She merely frowned in reply, confused by his words. "You have to put your skill and your potential to use, Irulan. Denial of that will be torture for you."
She pursed her lips and looked away, but the elf's fingers found her chin and pulled back her face once more. Legolas gave her a long, supportive smile before he continued. "You told me of your boredom. Of your unfulfilled life. Of your unhappiness. This, Irulan, is the cure for it. You will not be happy traveling from place to place. Nor will you find joy in dreaming about ages past. You have to use the gift that is yours and yours alone – only that will give you purpose and guidance." His words sank into her heart like some bitter medication. Though she hated the taste of it, she knew that it was the truth the solution. She cast her gaze down again, biting her lower lip. "You will find your place," he growled, lacing his fingers with hers while his other hand cupped her chin. "WE will find your place. I promise."
Irulan nodded, pursing her lips and wiping away the wetness on her cheeks. He swallowed softly, his heart in incredible pain at the sight of her and his mind at a loss of solutions. His love for her, he knew now, was preventing any cold blooded and calm decision on his behalf. And he was left with this frenzy – this solemn ache, this restless bafflement. "I know what it is like," he whispered, gently cupping her face.
She looked up at him with deep confusion. "What is it like?" she whispered finally.
Irulan only blinked at his touch on her cheeks that were wet with her tears. She remembered feeling weak and ashamed. She remembered the tinge of sadness...such peculiar sadness. Like a butterfly with no wings, realizing that it would never have wings. Never ever. She remembered his majestic smile. And his eyes that flared up to fill the world.
And then something...glided. No...'SHIFTED' was a better word for it. It shifted and a strange silence came over her. As if someone had suddenly cut off the music. Or pulled the plug. As unexpected and intimidating it was, it was not terrible in any manner. It felt like flying over a silent sheet of blue.
When she blinked again she was not on the terrace. She was not even in Vienna. She had no idea where she was, only that she stood in some garden. Irulan froze, no clue what was going on, but amazed by it anyway. It did not matter if she had fallen of the couch and hit her head; if she had drifted into slumber on Legolas' lap, or simply gone mad. After a moment's hesitation she reached out and touched a leaf that belonged to a vine, crawling up a tall tree. It felt so unexpectedly real that her first reaction was to withdraw her hand and swallow softly with a strange excitement.
It looked like any garden, really, only perhaps more rich and green and...wild. It was noon time and warm. A cozy, comfortable warmth. The air was so strangely fresh and brisk. A moment passed. Then another. Suddenly the idea of Legolas occurred to her and she opened her mouth to call to him, when she looked ahead and what she saw there made her freeze absolutely.
A couple was sitting in the distance and as soon as she laid eyes on them, she knew who they were.
Nothing could explain why Irulan felt no fear, then. It would be the normal human reaction, would it not? It would be understandable. But all she felt was...contentment. Her eyes greedily took in everything there was to see, then returned and did so again and again. Her mind was prey to the panic of seeing it for the first and most probably last time in her entire life. Only after many moments did the alarm leave her and she allowed herself to linger to take in the details.
There was not much to see, really. And yet...there was the WORLD to see!
The woman was sitting on a stone bench, her figure turned away from her. She had dark hair – almost black. It seemed unnaturally beautiful. Long and appearing so soft, that one itched with the need to glide a hand through it to confirm the sensation. All she offered was the curve of a long neck and the skin of her hand that lay on her lap. She might have been carved of marble, so white and flawless was she. And yet...she was alive. For she was humming as song, her voice very subtle, but at the same time clear and strong, reaching Irulan easily. It held no words...only a melody that was strangely not rhythmic, but very soothing.
Unconsciously Irulan cocked her head, trying to engrave it into her memory, knowing that with such an unusual rhythm, she never would succeed in doing so. During her effort her gaze went up to the figure of the man who stood behind the bench. Irulan watched his profile that was lost in the concentration of braiding the long, dark hair.
His opposition to all that she was, made the picture almost absurd. She was fine and clean. He was raw and rugged. She was motionless. He was moving. She was ethereal. He was earthy. She was grace. He was alluringly primal. But against all her perfection, all her beauty and her grace, odd enough, she seemed succumbed, submitted while he seemed strong and overpowering. His short and all-too-human fingers dived into her hair repeatedly, separating strands and braiding them into an intricate design. Braiding them with such...love. And such tenderness. Such gentle admiration and complete dedication.
Irulan held her breath, all her concentration shifting entirely to her ears. A silly certainty came over her: this was no mere braiding. This was poetry! This was an ode. A serenade. A praise. No...no this was no action! It was an exchange of the most beautiful words. Words of hope. And peace. And a blissful tomorrow. Words reserved only to the couple and inaudible to her. A whine almost escaped her lips at that...and the urgent need...the fiery desire to hear it came over her. To hear it again and again.
In this moment of utter simplicity, in this time that now only was a dim whisper of dead names, a poem lay before her eyes. A poem of great importance and meaning. In this journey over an endless, bare plain where millions walked –some in groups, few in couples and most in solitude; some singing and dancing, some in deep conversation, most only listening; some joyful and excited, others calm and composed, most solemn and afraid- in this great Migration of the Souls, one person had stood on a cliff overseeing it all and written words of his vision. It meant the answer to all. It was the key to anything. It was the common word in all languages. But it would not open to her. It would not yield. Like the great, sacred, mythical beast in the forest, it remained a shadow amongst the trees….a reflection in a pond….a rustle in the wind. A turn of the head, and there was only the fleeting of its shadow. A blink of the eyes, and only the swirling dust remained proof of its departure. That…and the amber fire of the desire to pursue it again. And again. And once more.
She sighed in frustration and with a knowledge that was beyond her understanding, knew in that instant that these were the exact sentiments that Legolas had felt, standing at this very spot, a very, very long time ago. She closed her eyes in concentration and yes, there it was again – the hammer of longing. The red hot blade of envy. The anvil of admiration. The fire of hope. The cool water of desperation. And the steam of need. Behold the end product: a perfect blade. The blade that had slashed him year upon year, decade after decade.
When she opened her eyes again, the garden was gone. The night was back. As was the partly view of Vienna. And his face, inches from her own. Irulan took a shaky breath as the long, slender and ethereal fingers of the recollection gently shifted and glided away from the fingers of her heart, the loss of contact a sad goodbye.
She closed her eyes again, trying to adjust to the shifting of realities. Strange as it was, it was not as difficult for her as she had expected it to be, after reading so much about it in the archives. And unlike it had been with Baeron, this time there was neither pain, nor disturbance. Only the well-known desire to hold on to the beast of the memory and let it drag her into the depth of the ocean of time, into certain death. Thankfully that longing was not incredibly powerful as it had been that day, and soon faded into mist.
"Tell me you are all right!" Legolas whispered then, breaking her thoughts. The urgency and regret in his tone made her lock eyes with him again. "Irulan! Tell me so! Now!"
She said nothing and his palms held her face stronger as the blue gaze in his eyes swept over her features with great haste. Feeling overly greedy, stupid, selfish, careless and all the other terrible things a man could be, he opened his mouth to say so, when she suddenly closed the small distance between their faces and placed her lips on his.
Of all things, this was definitely not what Legolas had been expecting. So much so, that his initial thought was –as foolish as it might sound- that he must be mistaken. But when her lips engaged in the undeniable act of kissing, all thought and hesitation flew off him. He reacted as if it was the most natural of all reflexes, grasping her desperately and pulling her closer, kissing her back. His tongue plunged into her mouth with sheer and desperate need and indescribable relief. Irulan gave in under him, embracing him stronger and moving almost as if to sit on his lap. She ended up doing so anyway because Legolas pulled her there, grasping the roots of her hair. He tilted his head the other way and kissed her again, the fire and passion for her taste growing more the more he received it.
No doubt that this was a terribly ill-mannered thing to do. And very unlike both Irulan and the elf that Legolas was. But neither gave a damn at the moment. The afterglow of the Sharing was searing...it tore through them, shredding all such unnecessary social necessities into pieces and throwing it into the wind. But it was not that impulsive and instinctive need alone, of course. It was the fierce love of Legolas and the amazing gratefulness and sympathy of Irulan. It was the need to touch someone like no one has been touched before. In a life full with clothes and garments, it was the strong urge to shed it all and touch real skin – to feel life itself.
She broke off, the need to breathe instinctively taking over. Legolas moaned with disappointment, his eyes fluttering open. She panted, watching the blue of his orbs swirl like some strange liquid as his warm breath washed over her face, intoxicating her. 'This,' she thought, not really conscious what she was thinking, 'is mine. Mine alone. This moment. This man. This gift is mine. This love is mine.' She blinked with the realization of that thought and the truth it rang in her. He grasped her waist harder, pulling her closer yet, but Irulan placed her hands on his face, refraining from movement. This was not Legolas anymore. This was...hard to describe...but...this was a part of her.
"I love you," she whispered, breathless. Legolas became unnaturally still and just stared back at her like some frozen, lifeless puppet. Irulan laughed softly. It was not every day that one managed to shock an elf into immobility. "I love you, Legolas," she sighed, kissing him lightly on the lips. He was too stunned to respond, and his only action was the slight movement of his orbs. She smiled and slightly rose on her knees to gaze down at him. She kissed him again, her lips brushing over his and again he did not respond, only closed his eyes to the feeling.
Irulan kissed his cheek, then embraced him, placing her own against his. Legolas encircled her waist once more, pulling her to sit on his lap again. Many moments passed as they remained in perfect union. "I love you too," he whispered finally. "I have found you," he said then, his voice raw and shaky. He swallowed hard at the force of his sentiments and inhaled softly. "/I have found you/," he breathed in Elvish, "/I am complete/."
Irulan had no idea what he was saying or what exactly was happening. It did not matter. She only knew that she had reached something of incredible value and that everything else faded into unimportance in comparison to it. So she held on to it, her arms encircling his shoulders and her face delving into his neck. She held on to it, letting go of everything else.
***
Baeron found them in a very unexpected state of intimacy – Legolas half sitting and half lying on the couch, far more relaxed than he had ever seen him, and Irulan sitting on his lap, folded into his embrace, facing him. Their eyes were locked and she was playing with his silver hair while his fingers were repeatedly traveling over the skin of her neck and her shoulders. He stood a long moment, watching them. A man and a woman…one with his back turned to the east, the other with hers turned to the west. Each facing only the other. A story written over and over again. And always fascinating to the heart.
He did not interrupt and turned to take another stroll through the mansion. No one had noticed his arrival. No one saw his departure.
***
