MY DEAR READERS
PLEASE TAKE THE TIME AND READ THE NOTE BELOW.
I don't like to make explanations – it seems too ready-served to me. I like the story to speak for itself. But the frustration level of some mails made me wonder if I am really not capable of transmitting some things straight. Therefore, I urge you to read the rather long note below and I hope that it will clear out all misunderstanding. I promise there will be no further notes until the end of the story – which has only two more chapters to go, now.
Dear Marianne, of course not all French are like that! Are you crazy, woman? That character was inspired by one of my French friends and she is EXACTLY like that. And I always found that admirable and eccentric. It does not speak for a whole people and I would much rather that my praises of your beautiful country and your culture had remained in your mind than such an unworthy detail. Don't take me that serious. I am really nowhere that important.
As to everyone else who finds Irulan's behavior hard to understand: One, she is not Wonderwoman, so you must forgive her. Two, she is not running from her mistakes. I think I made it obvious that Legolas would NEVER give her space and time – he is too obsessed with her. And I also made it clear that she had no intentions of becoming his slave. She walked away from him and only went to Baeron because he was her friend. If she had known about Bentanta, she wouldn't have. Even now she is not running because she is a coward. Baeron will not let her go and she is afraid of their confrontation because she knows that either one will be hurt. So she is running to prevent or at least delay that. Yes, Legolas tells her to stay put. But if you read it again, he says "Alone". Even if he hadn't said so, what makes you think that Baeron would simply stand aside and watch Legolas take her back? I think she does exactly what I would do.
I think the major mistake we tend to make –and it is very good that we make it, because Irulan makes the very same mistake and I WANTED it to be that way- is to misread elves. They are not merely passionate men. Not at all. They are not MEN at all. They are something completely alien. We misread, misunderstand and underestimate the things that they are capable of. Their love comes with a price and it's not a cheap one.
Another VERY grave mistake – at least I think so: If we could chose the one we will love, the world would be such a better place! In other words, there is no such thing as "believable pairing". We fall for people that are usually not good for us but the laws of the universe don't revolve around our ideas.
If you think that Legolas has a choice in this matter, you haven't understood the story at all. If you think that Irulan runs out of her selfishness and not to save a duel between these frantic men, again, you haven't understood the story at all. If you think that Irulan is a mere weakling and there's nothing good and mature and worthy about her...I must repeat my statement. And if you think that we always act wise, rational, logical and calm, well...all I can say is "What planet are you from?" I would tell you to re-read the whole thing, but I don't think it's THAT good, so spare yourself the effort.
I hope that it is clearer now. For anyone who thinks this unlikely, I have only one thing to say: She just IS that way. You don't understand her – well I myself don't understand the motivation and actions of half the people around me and frankly most of the time their choices seem foolish. But who can say that I would be able to act wiser if I were in their shoes? I am not ignorant enough to claim I would.
One thing I'm trying to stress in this story is the fact that no one is black and white. No one. We can be strong and have moments or phases of weakness. We can be unrelenting and proud and then one day something unthinkable might strip us off our pride and bend us like bamboo. We can be kind and gentle and before you know it, something so drastic might happen –for instance, someone very dear to us might get hurt- and we can become full with spite and rather ruthless. Does that mean that we are weak, bendable and ruthless? No. It means that we are shades of grey. Always and all of us.
And last but not least – in no way was this directed to a particular person. Neither is it some form of angry reply. Not at all. I am glad that people even think about what I wrote and take the time to write back. It is an honor to be the receiver of these mails.
Thank you for reading this far and now, on to the story!
Love,
Darma Druid
***
Her time with Baeron was far different from the days she had spent with Legolas. And it made her wonder why she did not feel for him instead of the other elf. For he seemed much more...right for her. Unlike Legolas, Baeron had not locked himself away from humanity or the age. Neither had he grown bored and bitter. Any creature that had lived so long and seen so much was expected to be difficult to stimulate, true. Baeron was not different. However, he had an enthusiasm, almost a childish naivety to him that had not dulled with the boredom of the long life he was blessed with.
They reached the southern tip of Spain and entered Africa through customs. The Circle would know this in a matter of minutes, but once entered, Africa was far more chaotic and intricate than Europe and she knew that it would be harder for them to be located here. Irulan had always dreamt of going to Africa and despite the current status of things, she was excited that her dream had come true. They rode through the dry but nevertheless heated climate and mostly used public transportation instead of buying a car as Legolas preferred to do. She did not call him again, thinking that the abstinence was better and would help her to overcome her longing for him if they did not speak. But the ache for Legolas remained in her, refusing to disappear. She had had relationships end before and the sensation was not entirely foreign. But the degree of it was incredible.
Baeron did his best to keep her mind off her anguish and often he did so by telling her of his life. He had an incredible sense of humor and a taste for adventure and Irulan was easy prey to those. His advances did not lessen, however, and it was harder to push him away when he was simply adorable. Persistently he would draw her in for a passionate kiss when she least expected it and with the same persistence she would push him away afterwards, trying hard to be angry but only getting to the point of annoyed at his childish grin and compliments that followed.
Three days after they had set foot on Africa they passed the border of Morocco and just a few hours after that, the duo stood on a deserted beach in Tunisia. The season was late and neither man nor beast was in sight as the world seemed deserted and timeless while Baeron and Irulan walked with naked feet on the perfectly white sand.
The more she spent time with Baeron, the more she felt confident to ask things that would shame her before. So it was only natural that the matter of Bentanta, who had been mentioned very briefly in the cab that had taken them to the train station in Madrid the last time, resurfaced once more.
"She...committed suicide?" was her cautious question when the elf did not try to close the subject.
"Aye," sighed Baeron, looking towards the sparkling blue water.
Irulan waited for him to continue. But he did not and remained in some elven trance. "To...save herself the torture?" she prodded further.
His hazel eyes that had a definite green to them this day found hers. He looked at her a long moment before he spoke. "No. To save us."
She remained standing as her shirt ruffled in the breeze like a white flag. Unsure what to do and feeling awkward, Irulan placed her hands into the pockets of her jeans and wiped away some stray hairs from her eyes. Baeron sighed and crouched down, grasping a fistful of sand and slowly raising his hand to let it glide like a little stream into the wind that blew it away immediately. "She said that she would rather die than see either of us come to harm. You see..." his narrowed eyes found hers again, "...she was very young, Bentanta. But age has nothing to do with spirit. We could not stop and well...she...made us."
Irulan sighed and looked into the ocean and neither spoke for a while. "I stole her body from her royal tomb," he continued and she blinked with surprise, then looked down at him once more. He was drawing figures onto the sand, seemingly distracted. "Lord Legolas helped me in that. We buried her in my own work for her."
He stood up and walked up to her, grasping her hand. Irulan swallowed and cast her gaze down as he walked, pulling her along the shore. She licked her lips and felt the salt on them as a strange tranquility settled on her spirit. Similar to what she had felt while she was driving towards Vienna with Legolas. It was the overwhelming calmness of the place and the distance of it from all the things that stressed her. The idea of Legolas was not a welcome one so she tried to push it away and thankfully Baeron continued. "I made a tomb for her. It took me over a decade and I spent a fortune for it, but…it was far more worthy of her. Me and Legolas placed her there." He halted a moment, then added: "I never built anything after that."
"Where is it?"
"In Egypt. Close to Giza. I had an estate there. Still have, of course. A large parcel of land above which is nothing but rocky hills and a mansion now. Underneath, she lies. In eternal peace, I hope," he finished quietly.
"Will you show it to me?" Irulan whispered. The demand woke both shame and yet a deep longing in her. She wanted to see the tomb, though her mind told her that the woman who had shared her fate was long gone from this world.
Baeron stopped then and pulled her to a halt as well. She waited as the ocean licked her feet and the wind tore at her shirt. Both her hands were in his and a sadness that looked very unfitting to his usual nature came over him. Irulan remained silent as he pulled up each to kiss her palms. "I have never shared it with any other than Legolas," he said, a long moment later. Irulan, certain that she had demanded something very unbefitting, was about to take back her request when he continued: "But it will be an honor to share it with you." She stilled, both surprised and uneasy and his fingers touched her temple, then glided down her cheek with the usual tenderness. "It holds great importance to me. As do you, King-daughter."
A smile broke on her lips and the aura of friendship engulfed her once more. Yes, the Sharing had stitched them together in a way that was beyond their control. But even if they had never shared, she knew now that they would have become the best of friends. Against all odds. Against anyone else. "The honor is mine, Baeron," was her late and slow reply.
He smiled brighter and kissed her palm once more before he squinted and looked to the direction they had come from. "How long do you think they will last?" he said suddenly, pointing to the tracks of their feet with his head.
She glanced at the signs of their passage, already almost completely melted away under the assault of the seawater. "Not much longer."
He nodded as if having found the answer to some important question. "Soon no one will know we ever passed here. No one will know of what we spoke of. Of how my heart wept with the recollection as it has done countless times before. Of how your eyes look under the African sun..." He trailed off, looking into the ocean. "Neither will they know how pleasant the warmth was this day. Or the color of your shirt." His fingers glided over it momentarily before he found her hand again, a wry smile on his lips. "No one will think of the past that has led us to this moment. And no one will know where we went off from here. Is that not so?" Irulan, feeling more dumbfounded than anything else, only nodded. He cocked his head, gazing down at her in curiosity. "It will be as if we never existed, no? Like a Tolkien tale - it will be an illusion and a story written on paper."
"And yet, it HAS existed," she said, feeling the need to speak. "It was real. It IS real."
He nodded and looked down at their hands, applying a gentle caress on hers. "No one will know. No one but you and me. And perhaps we, too, will forget in time. This is frightening to me - this frailty of it. Everything that is so strong and important and grave this moment, is a puff of air a day, a year or a decade from now."
She sighed then. "I think...we will always remember. I think our minds may forget, but our spirits will carry this moment with them on their long journey. And I think..." she halted, biting her lower lip, "...I think if we meet again…No! WHEN we meet again, in another life and in other forms, we will remember."
Baeron grinned and cocked his head to take a better look at her. Irulan, who had naturally grown used to the beauty of elves as she spent more and more time with them and who was tempted to take it for granted every now and then, was reminded of it once more, this moment. His sand colored hair with natural blonde highlights was under the torment of the breeze and his skin had gained a slight glow to its normal color. "Will we?" he said playfully, his perfect white teeth shimmering in the bright daylight. "Perhaps we will pass each other and never know. Perhaps we will speak and feel nothing."
She joined his grin. A moment later she chuckled, shaking her head. "No. I know that we will remember. Our spirits will. I know that next time we meet, a warmth and liking will wake in me." She cocked her head, too, an amused and sly smile on her lips as she gazed up at him, her eyes narrowing. "I won't know why. I won't know how. But I will feel a closeness and trust for you that I will find ridiculous for a first glimpse. Maybe -if I will be anything like I am today- I will try to suppress it. To shake it off. But..." Baeron inhaled and kissed her palms again, listening with rapt attention. The sentiment of deep friendship grew even further and bloomed fully between them. Irulan had had many friends. And she had shared with some much more than what she had shared with this man. Yet at this moment she felt as if none could compare to her relationship with him. "...it will prevail. This day is not lost, Baeron. I will carry it always. As will you."
He nodded very slowly and leaned in for a tender kiss on her lips. The act of kissing still made her uneasy, and each time an alarm went off in her, reminding her that no matter how strongly she was denying it by running from him now, she was still a part of Legolas and he was a part of her. Against that, strangely enough, kissing Baeron had not the spark that kissing Legolas did. With Legolas she was kissing a lover and her body exploded with the act alone. With Baeron...it was gentler. It was an act of sincerity and sharing the moment. It was an expression of support and deep ties. And he had said that he would not go further, so she knew that he would keep his word no matter what.
"Perhaps we have met before, then?" he said loftily, regaining his mischievous spirit. "For the moment I saw you, I felt...well...I felt that you deserved me."
"Is that so?" she laughed as he continued to walk and she walked with him, their hands in a gentle grasp.
"Hmmm-hmmm," he said, nodding with mock seriousness. "It is not every day that I come across a woman who is given the honor. Besides," he added, scratching his chin again in a very unelf-like manner, "you, too, must have sensed our common past."
"Ah," she sighed in a princess-like manner, "How can I ever deny it!? The day you walked up to us I knew that I had fallen helplessly in love."
"Tsk tsk tsk," came his soft scolding, with a sidelong glance, "I should have known by the way your eyes undressed me, Irulan!"
She gasped -this time with real shock- and retrieved her hand to hit his shoulder. Unfortunate for her the elf was too fast and evaded it easily, a perfect grin on his face. "Are you sure you are Kingskin? I mean...that was rather clumsy."
Irulan pursed her lips and ducked to gather a good amount of wet sand into her hands. When she looked up she had the expression of a five year old and Baeron stood two steps away, his arms crossed on his chest, his stance leisure and his beautiful eyebrows showing his mock surprise. "Irulan," he began, his lips gaining a sly smile once more, "you will regret that."
"No, I won't!" she said and threw the sand at him. He was only two steps away and there was no way in the world she would miss. Or rather....there shouldn't be. Because to her utter bafflement, she DID miss. A moment later the elf was further to her right, standing almost in the same fashion.
"Is that how you treat the love of your life?"
"Yes...this is how my line courts, elf!" she said with mild annoyance and deep joy and swiftly gathered another ball of sand, the ocean water dripping through her fingers. Another swing and to her irritation, another miss.
"Ah," he sighed, clasping his hands behind him and giving the blue water a good look as she stared at him, agape. "You have won my heart, then! For there is no way I can resist this!"
"Why, you..."
"My turn," he whispered, fixing her instantly with his hazel orbs and she swallowed, taking a step back. That was not a very intelligent move, since they were on a huge beach with nothing but sand and the ocean. Where would she go, anyway?
"Baeron...eh...," she chuckled nervously, taking another step back as he remained, his eyes fixed on her, "...look...I was only courting, you elf!"
"Indeed," he mused, "and I will only answer to your call." His gaze glided over the blue mass once more. "How warm do you think the water is today?" he said with disinterest.
Irulan gasped immediately and took another three steps back. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare!" His eyebrows rose again and she knew she had made a mistake. "Look...my shirt is white, Baeron..." she tried, eager to talk sense into him.
"Yes...I noticed," he grinned and took a step towards her.
She shrieked despite herself and, very unbecoming of an heir of Aragorn, turned around to run away. Silly? Yes. Foolish? Yes. To no end? Definitely. For before she could take the forth step she was hauled onto his shoulder and all her laughing, screaming and kicking did her no good. "Baeron stop! I'll kill you, I swear! I'll get ill! I'll catch pneumonia! I'll die!" He only laughed in reply and strode into the ocean as she struggled with all her might. Another wave licked the shore and cleaned the signs of their struggle moments ago, receding from an untouched beach as elf and woman disappeared amongst the blue waves and the white foam – almost as if they had never existed.
***
The golden cup was banged against the large marble table and the clang rang in the dimly lit room, until it fainted into an echo. Hazel locked into blue and for a long moment no words were spoken. "Lord Legolas," hissed Baeron finally, a very uncommon fire blazing in his eyes, "Ever have I respected you. Loved you. Defended you." Legolas said nothing and Baeron took a deep breath to calm himself to continue. "I would give anything you asked! Anything…but her."
The perfect eyebrows of the Prince rose slightly. "'Give', Baeron?" he said softly before he clasped his hands behind his back and turned to the other man. The red sun of Egypt was bleeding into the sky behind him, flowing around his figure like some astonishing aura. "How can you 'give' something that is not yours to give? Humans are not our possession."
Baeron gritted his teeth. "So I tell myself. But my heart will not listen!" he seethed and swallowed hard.
Legolas pushed his shoulders back, then turned briefly to the sunset before he took a few steps towards the large terrace that presented the breath-taking view of Egypt. A white linen tunic, fashioned like a loose, simple shirt was revealing his perfect torso that was slightly more bronze with the Egyptian sun. His hair hung longer than ever - almost touching his waist, glimmering like a silver river. It had evoked much admiration and word in the palace. There were many foreigners from distant lands in Egypt in those days and lighter color of hair was -though very rare and therefore always a reason for interest and admiration- not too unusual a sight. But the Prince's silver mane was unique and made Legolas an object of attention wherever he went.
He placed his hands on the stone rim of the balcony and leaned on it, the fine muscles of his back springing forth at that action. Egypt! What terrible, raw, harsh beauty it held! So peculiar and so in its own league! His eyes swept over the distant Nile, the crowd of palm trees that adorned its shores, the great structures of stone reaching to the red heavens and he took it in with the mind of a person who knows that no matter how real and solid it was this day, it was doomed to rot away in time. For nothing escaped the touch of time. Not even elves. "If you know your heart...you must understand hers as well," he said after a very long string of minutes.
Baeron made no sound. But when he spoke again, his voice denoted that he was standing much closer. "Legolas...I've never asked you of anything. Never. Grant me this and this only, and you can ask anything in return. Ask for decades or centuries of servitude - it is yours! But...do not ask for Bentanta."
The Prince's handsome profile turned to him and his voice betrayed his impatience and slight anger. "I don't ASK for her! And if I would, I would ask HER, Baeron. Not you."
The other elf swallowed and walked to stand beside him and for a long while both gazed into the sandy dune, an incredibly tense atmosphere between them. "You can not speak for her," the Legolas added a long while later, his tone somewhat gentler. "I have respect for your affection, but clearly she does not return it, Baeron."
Baeron pursed his lips into a thin line, the words embedding into his heart like a terrible blade. Maybe because they were true. Sure...Bentanta liked him. Maybe even loved him. But not like Baeron loved her. Never like that. Many, many years later he would realize that Bentanta loved neither of them. That she felt only affection for Baeron and admiration for Legolas. That she loved both, but was not in love with either. For now, though, his mind, distorted with the heat of passion, want and jealousy, was not capable of such deductions. All he knew was that he wanted Bentanta. That he could not walk away from her for any price. Sadly, even at the price of her own unhappiness.
Legolas, too, would go back to this moment many times and he too would realize that his vision was not its clearest on that day. He loved Bentanta, true. Like a child, she was - gentle, innocent and kind. He liked the childish admiration in her eyes when she looked at him, the little signs of infatuation that he knew from other women, but that looked so much more innocent and precious on her. He liked the way her voice shook when she spoke to him. Or the way her dark skin blushed when he looked at her. He liked the way she listened in utter stillness for hours when he told her of his travels and the rest of the world.
What mattered was that Bentanta wanted him. Him...not Baeron. She wanted him and he wanted her. What was love, anyway, but a passing, fleeting feeling? The love of mortals was merely a moment in time. A grand, breath-taking plunge into the abyss - that's all. His love for her was nothing of that sort. It was gentle and caring and long-term. At least as long term as he could allow himself to stay before she became suspicious of his never aging looks. And after that...who knew? The world was yet a mystical and magical place and Egypt perhaps more so. Maybe after those years Bentanta would not find it too hard to believe in a spell that had granted him ever-lasting youth? Maybe she would even grow into a wise and mature woman who would find the idea of another species walking this planet not too unbelievable...Legolas sighed and said nothing. The elves watched as red color vanished into blue, then into violet and as distant sounds of music and drums began to dwindle up to the palace and the stars blotted in the navy sky of Egypt.
"I love her," whispered Baeron finally, his stance still turned to the scenery. "Don't you understand what that means, my Lord?"
The Prince turned to give the man a long look, momentarily detecting a new sentiment and slightly confused by it. He thought that he knew, but only many, many millennia later, when he was sitting with a woman who was nothing like Bentanta on a dark, chilly hill in Germany would he know. That day when his eyes would look over the hills that the Grimm brothers had viewed and stitched into their tales and his lips would taste hers, he would know what Baeron had meant. Not before. Not now. Now love was just a word. And Legolas was a fool.
"I understand," he said gently and Baeron turned to lock eyes with him. Never had he seen such sadness in those normally playful hazel orbs. "But she chose my company. And she shall have it."
The words sank into Baeron's mind like a bloody, hot tattoo. They sank into his flesh, burning it with such fire, that he would wake many nights, remembering them and crying in his agony. 'She chose my company,' Legolas would say in his head over and over again. And the tattoo would throb with unspeakable pain. Again and again and again. 'She chose my company'. It was only true. He would never forget. And he would remember one day when another woman stood between them. A woman who, unlike Bentanta, would choose HIS company over that of the fabulous, ever-wise, always fantastic Prince Legolas. A woman whom he would come to love deeply and who -though not with the craft and strength of Bentanta- would touch his spirit in an almost similar fashion.
Millennia would pass over this day. And after both Baeron and Legolas had waded through many eras, decades and centuries; after they had loved and bedded many women; seen much and forgotten nothing, one day they would find themselves in a hauntingly similar triangle. What neither elf knew this day in Egypt was that when the day came, they would suddenly understand each other like they had never done, before. Baeron would understand Legolas' love and affection for Bentanta and his unwillingness to let go, as Legolas would understand Baeron's passion and the impossibility of him ever giving up on the Princess. That understanding however, though creating a deep bond between them, would not prevent them from walking the same path, this time their roles reversed.
"What could I have done?!" seethed the Prince to himself as the car shook softly with the ride and tried to lull him into a sleep that his body refused. 'I don't understand the Valar! Why do they punish us for things we can not help or avoid?!' he added in silence. He looked out from his window towards the darkness of the night. They were passing through a chaotic crowd of color, fire, fabric, lights, food and souvenirs. 'Should I have stepped back?' he thought, lost in the duels of the past. 'I loved her!'
'Indeed. Then why should Baeron step back now? He loves Irulan, too,' chuckled a nasty voice in his head. The Prince closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Many minutes he wrestled stubbornly with himself before he managed to accept defeat and admit something that had taken millennia for him to admit: 'Yes...I should have stepped back.' Legolas sighed, both disturbed and yet relieved by that conclusion. 'Bentanta would have forgotten me. She would have grown used to him and returned his affection in time. Baeron would have tasted true happiness. And...she would have...she would have lived.' He swallowed softly, his eyes glued to the tumult outside as he sat invisible behind the black glass.
A terrible, terrible mistake. Too long ago to make amends. Too far in the past to change it. And that was not even the worst part. The worst part was that he remembered his sentiments on that day very clearly. He remembered his foolish, stubborn determinism. His love and wanting for Bentanta. He remembered how his heart had tugged on with persistence - how it had insisted that he should hold on to her, no matter what. And that's how he knew how Baeron was feeling this very moment.
The further they drove, the more the Past seeped through his shield and sank into his bones and tissues. It burned in his blood and churned in his veins. 'Welcome back,' It said, the voice taunting and impish, 'Welcome, king amongst elves and god amongst men. Don't be hesitant....come in! Come in...we shall speak of love and loss.'
***
The trip to his estate was not incredibly hot, thanks to the season, and yet overly dry. Irulan remained silent and watched the scenery, trying to imagine it as it had been thousands of years ago. She was not certain if it was better to cheer Baeron's spirit at this time or leave him alone. She decided that he needed his quiet and chose the latter.
It was afternoon and the drive with the rented car took about two hours. Baeron's estate was a desolated piece of land, buried amongst rocky hills in the open plains. As he had said, only a seemingly very unused mansion stood on it. "I haven't been here for a very, very long time, Irulan," he said, speaking for the first time. "And I mean that in elven standards," he grinned, locking eyes with her.
Irulan gazed ahead, at the sole structure that they were approaching and that seemed to stand on the slope of a little mountain of bare rocks. The winding road took them ever up. For one moment and one moment only she remembered the ascent to the hill of Cerin Amroth with Arwen. Though only the fraction of a second, it was enough to make her uneasy and she hastily spoke to break the atmosphere. "How come no one tried to break in for theft all this time?"
"I have people coming in every now and then. They clean it. Keep it functional. Protect it." He squinted as the late afternoon sun of Egypt flashed through his eyes. "But...you will see yourself. The house is of no importance and carries nothing of value. They would find nothing there. And…no one is allowed to dig for anything further. It belongs to me, after all." He did not say it out loud but he had avoided this place for centuries now. Mainly because it brought back too many memories. As it did this very moment.
The drive ended in front of the mansion. Baeron stepped out, leaving the car keys and everything else and Irulan followed his lead, taking only the bag that held the flash lamps which Baeron had acquired in the city. There was no one here to steal the car or their belongings. She walked over to his side, then remained still, looking over the structure. It looked nothing more than an old house, three of its walls in the open, the forth wall embedded into the huge rocks of the mountain. Out of time. Out of style. The aura that usually surrounded elven settlements was not here. Most probably because Baeron had spent very little time in it. Still, she sensed a river of sorrow and torment wash over her. Her gaze wandered to the elf, who stood in the bright daylight, his eyes squinted, his face unreadable as he watched the structure with a pose one would watch an enemy.
Many minutes they stood in front of the old building as a warm breeze swirled and danced the sand back and forth on the plains below and glided over the rocks with a hiss, encircling them almost like a serpent. Perhaps the past was such a serpent – poisonous, dangerous, sneaky, unforeseeable. Or perhaps it was just a bundle of memories and one's own weakness to face it made it so lethal.
Irulan almost flinched when Baeron finally touched her hand. She blinked and found him looking down at her, with a tender smile. Her fingers grasped his, seeking a trusted friend in the face of something that was beyond her grasp and he gave her that assurance by shortly squeezing them in return. A strange glaze was in his eyes and a tenseness was emanating from him. She waited for him to lead her in, but he waited on, and so did she. "Life is strange, King-daughter," he said suddenly, his voice calm and low. "Both beginning and end can co-exist in one place."
Irulan waited on, her eyes not leaving his as her mind spun to understand his odd words and even his stranger attitude. Baeron seemed almost distant and...alien. The reason bloomed in her mind slowly, opening itself to her awe – for the first time he seemed an elf, instead of the human that she was so tempted to take him for. Her mind whirled but found nothing to hold on to when she finally spoke, her own words foreign to her. "Do you think that there is a purpose to life?"
He took a deep breath and returned his gaze to the mansion. A minute passed before his voice chimed once more. "Aye. Most certainly. But I also believe that to know it would not make a difference to us minions." He sighed suddenly. "I believe that our battles are meaningless. We conquer one day, are conquered the next. We breathe victory, only to taste defeat. We charge right before we are forced to fall back..." His voice trailed off as another warm gust fanned their faces. "I am tired of this war." He gazed back down at her confused and worried face, smiling once again. "Let us set the battlements on fire."
A smile of surprise bloomed on her face, her eyes sparkling with awe and amazement. Baeron began to walk then and she followed. The past slithered further. Head reached tail. And the circle was complete.
***
Irulan followed him through the dilapidated rooms of the building. It stood in perfect silence and stillness. Time was slow and heavy here. It seemed to have left behind a trail – almost like the trail of a snail. As if a part of it had remained and lingered on, having gained presence in these rooms. Baeron was right – the house was nothing fancy. It stood, gaping like an open mouth, eager to speak, but having lost the skill to do so.
They walked on, their eyes scanning the surroundings. The walls were cracked in several places, due to several earthquakes this region had witnessed over the years. True enough, it seemed to have been cleaned and re-ordered a few times. But the job itself was hasty and dismissive and explained the unkempt look of the dwelling.
The elf seemed very uninterested in the house itself. He walked on, silent but with determination through rooms, finally coming in front of a wall. It held nothing special about it and would have been absolutely overlooked by any other. But the architect knew which stones to move and which to turn and he did so, his fingers not having repeated the task for millennia, but remembering the routine easily enough.
Nothing happened.
A moment passed and Irulan, who thought that the wall would move aside or at least reveal some sort of a secret passage, was startled when Baeron walked out of the room, pulling her along. She followed once more and they ended up at another wall – this one belonged to a ruined kitchen. He pressed other stones and they clicked gently, as if they had been made yesterday, not centuries ago.
This time it was no surprise when nothing happened. For the third time they walked out and for the third time the procedure was repeated on another wall. "This has to be done in a precise order," he said, a frown on his face while the stones clicked. "You can press these stones all you want and if it's not in the certain order, it will never open."
She just stared at him, agape and was about to ask why on earth Baeron had stopped being an architect since he was such a damn genius, when a rumble shook the house and the dust on the walls began to fall to the floor in lazy circles. Unconsciously her other hand closed on their grasp as she froze, observing the walls protesting with a tremble. It was only a matter of minutes, but to Irulan it seemed much longer and only when the silence stretched on undisturbed did she dare to glance up to the elf who stood with a frown on his handsome visage. "It has been longer than I suspected," he murmured, his hazel eyes wandering over the cracks on the walls. "But...it HAS opened," was his addition with a merrier tone. "Come, Irulan."
They walked back through several rooms and ended up at an entrance she could not recall seeing before. Baeron guided her through it. A darkness fell on them and her feet found soft sand. Irulan looked up in wonder and realized that they were in a passage that was carved into the rocks of the mountain against which the mansion was leaning. Again, many things had obviously moved around and destroyed the masterwork that Baeron had made here. For in its originality, an intricate system had been sending down the sunlight to this passage. It had been undetectable to anyone who would climb around on the slope, for the light had been arranged to stream in through minor cracks and crevices, angled so that no vast empty space could be suspected underneath them or fit through them.
Unfortunately many of those had moved in time and collapsed closer, cutting off the light. Many...but not all. The dim alley spread before her and was enough to make her heart beat wildly with excitement. She looked down, her eyes adjusting to the lack of light and seeing the white sand underneath her soles. No feet had touched this sand in millennia!
Baeron gave her a few moments to adjust, then walked on. Irulan felt him distant, the elven cloak that hid his emotions thicker than ever. No sentiments streamed out from him and no expression was there to read. The mountain sighed with a slight rumble, then settled completely and silence began.
They walked further and further, the dimness gaining intensity, then lightening up. The passage was narrow for a moment, then suddenly very large and it looked almost like the coincidental work of nature, instead of a person. She did not realize it at first as coarse bricks began to replace the large boulders. Bricks that formed an uneven wall, broken in like a toothless grin at places. "Is this...how it's supposed to look?" was her uneasy question, merely asked for the sake of breaking the intense stillness.
"No. It is in worse shape than I thought," murmured Baeron, giving the holes in the brittle wall a passing gaze. "Do not touch the walls. They seem brittle and they lean on nothing but air. If they give in, you might fall a great distance to the lower layers of the tomb."
Irulan swallowed, unconsciously inching away from them while they walked on in a slow, cautious pace. "The tomb is here? Around us?" she whispered a while later. It seemed only fitting to whisper here, in this stagnant and close place where memories ruled – although there was no one to hear.
"It is carved into the mountain. Like a pyramid, Irulan – but under the surface. It is below us and we must descent through a maze of tunnels to reach the heart of it." His fingers glided along the fractured and damaged ruin of the side walls. "I see that boulders have moved and much has changed. Our feet step on a solid outcrop now, but there may be many empty pockets along the side. Stay close to me."
He did not have to say that again! Irulan squeezed his hand harder and remained as close as she could be. They reached the end of the tunnel and the elf released her hand. She stood still, gazing at the entrance that led into darkness while he walked on until he reached the gaping hole and looked into it. She shifted on her feet, not daring to speak. The idea of the flashlights in her backpack blinked in her mind, but she dared not mention it. "The tomb is below us...," he said a long moment later, his elven perception picking out the spiraling and partly broken stairs that led into fathomable darkness. "...but...maybe it's not safe any longer, Irulan," he said finally, and she looked up in surprise as he locked eyes with her. His hazel eyes shimmered in the dim light and his face was blank as he stood at the threshold, looking back at her. A moment passed between them before he sighed and turned his back to her once more, inspecting the darkness that lay beyond the door.
She squinted her eyes and looked at the entrance once more. Damn right this was not safe! Not to mention, VERY scary. After all, she was standing at the entrance of a tomb. With a DEAD person inside! She swallowed softly and suppressed the shiver. No matter what...they had come this far. And this was obviously something that Baeron needed to confront. She wanted to be with him when it happened. As a friend. As the support he had been to her.
She looked back up at him and she was about to say that they should go ahead and descend anyway, when suddenly his elven shield that hid his emotions from her disappeared with unexpected speed and a sense of alarm hit her in the face. So surprising and overwhelming it was, that she remained agape, her eyes widening slowly as she could not look away from his back. Baeron tensed like a bowstring, not moving a muscle and she could not help an urgent whisper falling from her lips. "What is it?!"
He did not speak, only turned around to give her a long, plain look. Her discomfort grew further at that and Irulan was about to repeat her question when suddenly another voice spoke up. "You have arrived at last." She froze into complete immobility at that. HIS voice! Of all people, HIS voice! She swallowed, amazed that she actually managed to do so, and tried to breathe. Her eyes met Baeron's and his face was as blank and expressionless as white paper. Very slowly she managed to turn around and met the blue eyes.
As their gazes connected, something clicked in her. It was that dreadful, regrettable need. That iron shackle that bound her to him. A too long moment passed between them as he stood in the direction they had come from and she faced him completely, the sizzling shock of the occasion running through her, shaking her figure. "Irulan," he said gently and she was glad that he spoke, for she doubted that she had the power to do so at the moment. His looks swiftly glided over her and back up, finding her orbs again. He smiled in the most tender fashion and Irulan felt a slow and completely irrational shame color her cheeks. And a deep need to go and embrace him. She tilted forward and took half a step, then immediately stopped herself. A surprise as well as fear washed over her when she realized her own action. Legolas, too, seemed to have realized it, for he smiled broader and held out his hand, silently asking her to complete the action.
She remained completely at a loss of her wits, very unsure what to do. "We meet again, Lord Legolas," Baeron said from behind her at that very moment and broke the spell. "And here of all places," was the partly bitter, partly amused addition. The Prince's eyes darted over her shoulder to the other elf then, and she exhaled slowly in relief as his heavy gaze left her. An incredible tension built between the two men and Irulan felt very tempted to just take off and run. "I knew you would come," Baeron concluded slowly.
"As did I," growled Legolas.
"Irulan, come to me," Baeron said from her right, as gently as Legolas had spoken to her.
"Leave her out of this! This is between you and me," was the other elf's reply as their eyes did not leave each other for a single moment.
"She is the reason why you came. Not me," Baeron replied and turned to lock eyes with her. "Come, Irulan."
She swallowed and looked at his offered hand. This time she took a step towards him and an intervention from her left froze her into immobility. "Don't move, Irulan!" The seething command in his tone sent chills down her spine. She obeyed instantly and her eyes remained locked to Baeron. She was aware that she had a pleading look on her face and it was enough to make the elf move towards her. "If you touch her, I will kill you this moment, Baeron!" came his voice then and though not with fear, the Scout froze as well.
"Legolas," she breathed finally with a shaky voice and managed to turn to him once more. Yes...as she had expected his face was blank as well. And she found that extremely scary. "Please...You two are scaring me!"
His gaze seemed to soften a little, but it could have easily been her own imagination. "I will take you," he began slowly, "and walk out of here. And I will not return, nor look back. For you and you only, Irulan, I will spare him."
She bit her lower lip, thinking that she better take that option or that Baeron was as good as dead when the other elf intervened. "I'm afraid I can not allow you to do that, my Lord," he said calmly. "I will not let her be taken by force or to save another."
Once again the looks of the elves collided and once again it frightened her even more. "Then we will end this here and today," Legolas said flatly.
Baeron bowed his head ever so slightly. "If such is our fate...."
"Stop it!" yelled Irulan finally, overly annoyed by this whole thing about "ending" and "fate" and all that crap! She loved each of these men in a strong, but very different fashion and she could never choose amongst them. "Have you forgotten who you are?! We must solve this matter."
"I agree," growled Legolas. "And so we will." He shifted, placing his feet slightly apart to take a relaxed stance. Only to the outer eye it seemed relaxed, of course. Irulan felt the threat emanating from him doubling with that motion.
"Legolas, no!" she whispered in urgency and walked up to him in haste. He was so surprised by that action that his expression of gravity fell and his concentration shifted to her. Before she could think about it, she was a step away from him and lay her hand on his forearm. A look of wonder and incredible relief fluttered across his features for a moment and he locked his blue gaze to hers, not moving in any other manner. "I will not have you two fight! What foolishness is this?!"
She turned to look at Baeron who stood with his hands clasped behind his back, seemingly relaxed as well, but equally tense. "I told you, Irulan...you must forgive us for this. We cannot share you. And we will not burden you by forcing a choice upon you." His eyes found the steely blue of Legolas, then. "We will not repeat that mistake."
"Oh no, we will not," the Prince growled, his other hand enfolding over hers, but his eyes fixed on Baeron. "WE will make that choice instead."
"Enough!" she yelled and her voice bounced on the old walls of the passage. Both elves gave her a perplexed look. "If you don't stop right this minute, I swear I will walk out of here and never, NEVER see either of you again!" Neither moved, so she continued: "Believe me, I WILL do it!"
"Walk then," Legolas whispered, his eyes incredibly inhuman. "Walk. It is safer for you. One of us will find you when this is over."
"Go, King-daughter," Baeron said gently from behind her.
"No! Stop it, I say! I will not go then, and you will have to kill ME first!"
"We will solve this in the old way," said Legolas, completely ignoring her and fixing the other man with the blue flames dancing in his orbs. "The way of the warriors. For no matter what, that is what we remain."
"I agree," was Baeron's slow reply.
A terrible silence set in on the trio. She glanced from one to the other and back, her harsh panting the only sound that filled the place.
And then it began.
In the dim light of the passage, she only made out a blur of figures before they clashed together. Irulan barely found the time to cry out with surprise and hastily step away as a hurricane swept by her. Her eyes were too slow to see the movements, but there was no doubt that this was a fight of frightening intensity and nothing like the one she had seen between two men. For it was accompanied with a fiery aura of incredible anger and threat that sizzled through her like a licking flame. So fluid and baffling and mind-blowing it was, that for a moment she was torn between watching it with awe and wonder, and throwing herself between them.
The hesitation did not last long. Finally her vocal cords gained independence once more and she heard herself shouting, her voice echoing in the narrow tunnel. "Stop it! STOP!"
No reaction. No answer. Not even the smallest pause. The brutal encounter continued as if no words were spoken. But they DID part a few moments later, when Legolas managed to land a hefty punch on the chest of his opponent and Baeron slammed into a sharp rock, letting out a grunt of pain. The break was not too long and before she could blink the Prince dove in, slamming the other into the rock once more. Baeron managed to grasp his arms and threw him to the side and Legolas landed gracefully on his feet, his blue eyes shining with inhuman fury. He charged again but this time Baeron was prepared and stepped aside, once again locking to him and forcing another chaotic entanglement.
"STOP I SAY!!" Her voice was close to a shrill this time and it bounced back from the rocks heftily. Yet, it was not enough and the duo continued its dance of fury perfect disinterest.
Before she knew it, the bag dropped from her hands and her feet moved. Irulan was stunned when she actually grasped an arm, digging her fingers into it. Her mind was empty. She had no idea what she was doing. All she could think of was that she had to stop them. She was thrown off with an ease that would have bothered her if she had the chance to think about it. One moment she was by their side, her fingers digging into flesh, the next she was kneeling on the white sand as a ray of dim sunlight was streaming onto her stupefied face.
Baeron was thrown away once more, and this time he flew a good distance, landing on his back with a groan. Legolas did not hesitate and strode to him, grasping his shirt and whirling him against another rock. A few bricks fell off at the impact as the Scout tried to pry off the suffocating grasp of his obviously far more skilled opponent. Only an accidental kick in the stomach saved him and he fell to the ground with a thud when Legolas stepped back, then a moment later charged again.
Neither saw Irulan in the picture as she forced herself between them and neither noticed her frantic battle to pry them apart, shouting their names over and over again. Their ears were deaf. Their eyes blind. Their minds blank. Only after they had clashed into her a distant part of their minds became aware of the happening. And in perfect unison they turned to see her crash into the wall of the tunnel with the effect of the collision. The wall gave in under her weight and a hole like several others that adorned the dilapidated wall opened up behind her as the bricks clattered into the silent darkness below.
Irulan felt the bricks give under her hands and she knew with instant realization that she would die. Everything slowed down drastically and she saw her fingers slipping off the stone, leaving fine marks on its dusty surface as it crumbled before her eyes and broke away. All the noise ceased. Her heart must have stopped, for strangely the excitement, fear and alarm was gone, too. For a moment she hung in limbo - completely devoid of any emotion and thought. Then her heart made a leap and a wave of electricity traveled through her. She barely found the time to gasp as the darkness came over her and her feet lost the tangible ground. Her body tilted further and further and then the frozen state left her. Before she could blink she was falling in darkness with incredible speed to her certain death.
Both Legolas and Baeron froze, the same realization hitting them at the same moment as their eyes followed her tilting figure. The fire and flame that had taken hold of their minds parted like a crimson curtain and in that moment of sanity, they understood what that meant. Then the curtain closed again and once more they became creatures of pure instinct. Both bolted towards her, both knowing that neither would make it in time. The other elf gave Legolas a push and the Prince was forced to stagger away with the unexpected shove while Irulan disappeared from view. Baeron did not hesitate even for a single millisecond before he made a graceful dive into the darkness after her.
***
