*huggles*
-Melanye
HopingHours. They've been discussing for hours. How long does it take for him to decide that he wants to help Gondor? I know full well the hurt they'd caused in refusing to aid us at Helm's Deep, but Denethor must have had his reasons. He is, after all, on the front lines of the battle. Perhaps he had none to spare.
My eyes again stray to Legolas as he stands close to but still separate from the deliberations. He is chewing on his nail, nervous. I had never seen him nervous. Even before battle he is always the picture of calm, but now…
His eyes find mine in that intense stare I've grown to love. I know he is reading my mind – he must be, with eyes so deep and wise and searching. Not long can I endure that stare, but somehow I manage to match it with one of my own. Deeper his eyes search, I feel my soul bared before him. Sweet Valar, I would give it to him…
The moment is broken as the doors to the hall burst open. Aragorn runs in breathlessly. The Beacons are lit, Gondor is in need. Immediately I look to uncle. His face grim and set, weighted with the responsibility of the decision. Go and fight for the good of all men, or stay and brood over the callousness of another King whose decisions he does not understand. Silently I direct my thoughts to him…willing him to make the right decision. 'Please…please help them.' His face hardens, and almost I believe he'd heard me. Then his eyes open and fix on Aragorn.
"And Rohan will Answer!" he responds in a great voice that fills the room with its power. My heart lifts with joy at those words, positively proud to be Rohirrim in that moment.
Almost immediately Uncle asks the number of men able to go to war. The joy in my heart is quenched by the response. 'Too few…far too few.' Before I can think better of it I speak. "Sire, Many of the women have been trained with the sword and bow. We may also be of aid." I feel my hands itch at the idea of holding my sword, raising it over the head of an orc…
"Nay, sister-daughter," he shatters my hopes, "Your place is here. Who will lead our people once the King is away?" I cannot believe this. He would deny my right to help? If he is so concerned for the Kingdom, why does he not make Eomer stay so that I can fight? I open my mouth to protest but he silences me with his hand. "I will hear no more of this. I have a battle to prepare for." I feel utter humiliation as he walks away with the others. Curse my being born female! Then perhaps I would be respected as a warrior! I feel tears well up in my eyes, and angrily wipe them away.
"He only looks out for your well-being," I hear a soft musical voice behind me. I don't need to look - I know it's him. I close my eyes and bow my head as I feel that voice enter me, soothing my heart with its touch. I know that if I turn I would be helpless against that intense stare, now aimed at my back. I can feel its caress, like the rays of the sun, or perhaps the soothing light of the moon. Then, a feather-light touch on my shoulder. I struggle to restrain the sigh I feel within me. "This may not help," he begins. 'Anything you offer will help,' I hear my own thoughts. "But in my kingdom lords and shield maidens fight side by side, for the darkness threatens all."
I love you, Master-Elf
I am barely able to register his words before he is gone. The caress of his eyes gone, leaving me bereft of his warmth. Only when I'm sure I am alone do I raise my hand to touch my shoulder where his hand had been, clinging to the memory of his touch.