In the time before the War of the Ring, a loved one was lost. Now, in the peace that follows, Valraen, the King's own cousin has been found. But her past is covered in darkness and Valraen has no memory of herself or the Elf she loved. As the forces of darkness that separated them gather once more, can Legolas bridge the distance between them and reclaim the one he lost?
OK guys – this is my first ever fan fiction and my first ever short story so be gentle. Feel free though to offer constructive criticism (plot holes, clichés, weak characters etc). Hope you enjoy it.
Legal Stuff – All characters (except Valraen/ Arienel and The Master) belong to Tokien The Great. None to me (more's the pity). I am but a trespasser on his glory.
Chapter 1: Reunion
The night spread ominously across the deserted road. The moonless dark clung to the corners of the dusty rocks, throwing a deep gloom across them.
For the woman riding unseen through the shadows towards the rundown inn, it was a night like all that had come before it. For as far back as her mind could stretch, the nights were always so. She was a warrior of the moon and so her place was with the dark. It came and went but she remained the same - waiting until the other end of the day, when she would once again welcome the shade to its rightful place. The woman, known to herself as Arienel and to others only as the Captain, could not remember any other life, although she felt there must have been one. Nor could she recall if there was anyone she might have known, although she felt they must also have existed.
For her, this path of death was one she walked alone.
In the time before forgetting, this would have bothered her. Now she preferred the solitude, though she could not remember why.
***
The woman sat silently in the corner of the unruly inn, unnoticed by the raucous, inebriated crowd. She had come to meet the sender of the letter now stowed inside her black cloak. Her hooded form melted into the shadows that surrounded her, rendering her faceless and unreadable. A rap of her knuckles on the rotting wood of the table brought over the mead she thirsted for; a wave of the same hand sent the curious barman away.
Ignoring the penetrating, almost fearful look the barman had thrown her way, Arienel slid her slender fingers into her breast pocket and drew out the letter.
Twelve midnight the letter had said. At the stroke of the clock, the mysterious owner of the elegant handwriting would meet her here.
Arienel didn't usually respond to unknown letter writers, preferring instead the silence and anonymity of her assassin's work, but she found herself compelled in this case to make an exception.
For one thing, it was curiously addressed. It had been specifically addressed to the captain of the Selenar, the legendary warrior assassins of Middle Earth. It had been sent through extremely covert routes, unknown to any except the top order of the Selenar and those whom they served. For another, its origin and purpose was unknown. Her orders were to discover the sender of the missive and bury them.
Taking a sip of her mead, Arienel settled in to wait. It wouldn't be long now.
***
The clock had just struck twelve, when the hooded man moved into the light of the inn. The woman watched as he moved gracefully through the crowd, stopping only once he reached the bar. She watched as he lent forward and spoke to the barman. He moved like one of the dark cats of the west, she thought as she eyed him from the shadows. He had a feline grace that was both intriguing and slightly threatening. He belonged here almost as much as she did, she thought humourlessly. She watched as the barman pointed to corner in which she sat.
This then must be the sender of the letter.
Arienel rose silently as the man dropped something into the barman's hands and moved towards the door of the inn. She followed him out of the inn and into the darkness beyond.
***
The woman stepped out into the shadows beyond the light of the inn and stopped, listening keenly to the sounds around her. Although she could not see in the darkness, her hearing told her she was not alone. A sound like a sharp intake of breathe told her the hooded man was somewhere behind her.
When he moved, it was much quicker than she had expected.
Warm fingers curled softly around her upper arms as he stepped up behind her. Although she couldn't see his face, the breath on the back of her neck carried with it the scent of the sea and felt disconcertingly familiar.
"We thought you lost," he breathed into her ear. His hands tightened slightly on her arms.
"Is it really you?"
She didn't answer him. Her knife was at his throat before he could register her movement.
He blinked, then inexplicably grinned. "Valraen," he laughed softly. Startling blue eyes danced at her from inside the dark hood. "It is you."
"Move and I will slit your throat," the woman stated quietly. "You will tell me who you are."
The man laughed again. "It's me… look…"
He reached up and softly drew back his hood.
A lesser woman would have been unnerved by the revelation. Long blonde hair was gathered at the sides and fell like silk across his lean back. His face contained a beauty so ethereal that Arienel almost drew in a short breath at the sight. His mouth looked soft for all its masculine contours. His eyes, she realised, as a strange heat moved through her chest, felt warm and familiar.
So engrossed was she in her initial reaction to the stranger that she almost forgot the knife in her hands - until her eyes swept across his ears.
Elf.
She was furious. Elf magic and her own stupidity had almost undone her. Of course, she thought as her grip on the knife tightened. No man could look like that. She moved the knife closer to his throat.
"Valraen… what…" he murmured, as confusion clouded his eyes.
"I know neither you nor this Valraen," Arienel breathed menacingly, "but you will not fool me so easily Elf. I am Selenar and a warrior of the dark. You will tell me why you are here. Who are you?"
"Valraen…" the Elf began. He stopped as the knife moved further into his skin.
"You would do well to mark me," she said. "Speak that name again, and you will die. Move but an inch more, and you will die. You will tell me what I wish to know."
The captain could not have said what it was about this Elf that had disconcerted her so. She was not usually so vulnerable. She felt only that she was in danger and wished to learn from what.
The Elf seemed to collect himself as a light died in his eyes.
"My name is Legolas Greenleaf," he stated quietly.
His hands moved like lightening across the woman's vision.
"I am truly sorry for this."
Arienel felt herself collapsing as a sharp pain hit her temple.
That speed is impossible, she thought vaguely as the blackness hit… Even for an elf.