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?
This Chapter has the tinniest bit of Elvish at the end, which you'll recognise it as part of a poem from the book. Once again – constructive criticism is welcomed.
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 2: An old song
Legolas gripped his horse's mane more tightly as he looked at the slumped form before him, provoking a reproachful whinny from his loyal stead. Not for the first time did he wonder what had happened to the woman he had so loved.
That she did not recognise him had become painfully obvious. He was nevertheless sorry for the violence with which he had been forced to subdue her. She would wake up with a headache for which, he felt sure, she would not thank him.
Climbing up onto his steed behind her, he pulled her back into his embrace and let himself pause momentarily over her familiar features. Age has been kind to her, he thought, his eyes lingering over the large almond shaped eyes, fringed with the impossibly long lashes that had once so captivated him. When open they would be a dark shade of violet, although the shadows had not allowed him to gaze upon them properly tonight. He took in the full locks of her dark, almost black hair, worn much shorter now than in the old days. The natural waves framed her face. It suited her he decided. It highlighted her high cheekbones.
The only thing unfamiliar was a scar the shape of a crescent moon in the middle of her forehead. It was tattooed with a silvery white substance that made it glitter strangely in the moonlight.
Valraen … what have they done to you?Shaking himself out of his reverie, Legolas kicked his horse gently in the flanks. It would be foolish to linger any longer, he realised. Although the dark days of the War of the Ring were now just a memory, dangerous and greedy men still existed in the shadowy places of the world.
He was at least a half-day's ride from Gondor and Aragorn would be eager for news of his long lost cousin.
***
"She remembers nothing?"
"So it would seem." Legolas moved from the foot of the bed where he was facing his old friend. "Aragorn… it was as if she had never seen me before. I had to render her unconscious three times just to get her here."
Aragorn looked down at the unconscious form on the bed next to him. His cousin looked much as he remembered her, though ten years had passed since their parting. As children they had been close. The daughter of his mother's brother, she had been one of the few he could truly call family. Although she was ten years his junior, she had always been wiser than her years. Her loss had hit him hard.
Then, three years after the end of the War of the Ring, they received word that the Selenar – a group thought to have perished with Sauron – was still in operation. More disturbing was the news that Valraen, the Kings own cousin and long assumed dead, might be its famous and deadly captain.
"If she indeed has no memory of who she is, it would explain much." Aragorn admitted. "Such as why she never contacted us. Valraen would never knowingly have let us believe her dead."
"And yet…" Legolas said bluntly, "She is an assassin."
"The Valraen I know would never have allowed herself to be drawn willingly into such a group as this." Aragorn persisted. "There must be a good explanation."
Legolas frowned, his thoughts suddenly clouding. Turning his back on his old friend, he moved towards the open window. "You weren't there Aragorn," he said. "She would have killed me if she could have. She is Selenar."
"No Legolas. She is Dúnedain." Aragorn looked knowingly at his friend. "She is the woman you love."
Legolas didn't answer. He looked out onto the grounds below and tried to still his chaotic thoughts. When word had reached them of Valraen's whereabouts he had volunteered immediately to contact her himself, positive that the sight of him would bring her joy and relief. Now he could remember only the look of hate in her eyes when she had realised him to be an Elf. It was a look he had thought never to see from her.
He had hoped when she had woken, that time in his presence would help matters but things had, if possible, only gotten worse and he had been compelled to knock her out twice more before reaching his destination.
He felt sure that if she could have managed it, she would have gladly slit his throat.
"I do not know who she is," Legolas said finally. "But she is not the woman I loved."
With that, he turned and left the room.
***
When Arienel finally woke, it was to a rioting headache. Alarmed she opened her eyes only to shut them again immediately against the overwhelming pain.
Groaning, she brought her hands up to rest on her hot forehead and tried to focus her disorientated thoughts. Think… she told herself angrily. What happened and where are you…
Images began to flood in sporadically… she was at the inn to find the sender of a letter… there was a man… no…
An Elf.
He had knocked her out. Vaguely she recalled having gained consciousness at some point on the road and having struggled weakly before the darkness swept in once again.
I am a fool… she thought crossly. What they would say if they could see me now. Arienel, famed Captain of the Selenar, taken down by an Elf.
Gingerly, she opened her eyes again, squinting through the pain at her surroundings. She needed to escape from wherever she was being held. It took her some time to accept the fact that she was not, in fact, being held against her will at all.
The room she was in was as impressive as any she had ever found herself in. Fit for a king, she thought, running one hand lightly over the satin sheets that covered her. The bed she was so comfortably ensconced in covered almost half of the size of the room. On the far side of the bed was a large satin chair, on which sat a red book. Across from the chair, large glittering rays of sun streamed in through an open window.
Her clothes. Arienel sat up abruptly, paying for it with a sharp pain. Rubbing her sore temple, she registered the fact that she was not in her own clothes. Looking down, she saw that she was dressed in a sleeveless shift made of fine white material. A quick survey of the room confirmed that her own garments were nowhere to be seen, which meant of course that her weapons were also gone.
Damn, Arienel thought. Damn, damn, damn.
She was not only in a strange and unknown place but also quite helpless. She resolved immediately that she would not tolerate the situation. Testing her forehead with soft fingers, she swung her feet over the edge of the bed. Though the movement made her ill, she stood up very carefully, using the chair as a support.
When the dizzy spell hit, she was quite unprepared and found herself collapsing unceremoniously onto the wooden floor.
"Need some help?" asked a deeply amused voice from above her.
Clutching a now bruised hand, Arienel looked up. Momentarily dazzled by the white light that streamed in from the window and covered the man's face, she didn't respond. She could see however that he wore a wide smile and a crown.
"I could assist you if you require it."
Arienel frowned up at the grinning King. "I do not require it," she snapped, attempting bravely to stand. "What I require is my clothes and weapons. You will bring them to me at once."
Of all the responses she expected, the loud and sudden sound of laughter was not one.
"By God cousin, how I've missed you!" he said, grinning largely. "You haven't changed a bit."
And with that he stepped forward and lifted a shaky Arienel into his arms.
Arienel had no memory of ever having been embraced thus. It frightened her, quite against her reason and nothing had ever frightened the Captain of the Selenar. She pushed the man away angrily.
"Had I my blade, you would have paid for that with your life," she gasped.
The man's grin faded. "So Legolas was right," he said sadly. "You do not remember me… Valraen."
An angry silence greeted his words. "There is nothing to remember," she snarled. "I am not this Valraen. I am Arienel…"
She clasped the man's robes as another wave of sickness hit. "I am …"
But before she could finish the thought as she found herself swept up and deposited once more on the bed.
"You are still disorientated. You need rest…"
Arienel tried to protest but blackness was gathering again at the edges of her vision. Later she would only vaguely recall the melodic voice that began to sing softly as she fell into a dark and dream-filled sleep.
Ai! Laurië lantar lassi súrinen,
Yéni únótimë ve rámar aldaron!
Yéni ve lintë yuldar avánier
Mi oromardi
lisse-miruvóreva…
Ah! Like gold fall the leaves in the wind,
Long years numberless as the wings of trees!
The years have passed like swift draughts of the sweet mead
In the lofty halls beyond
the West…
(LOTR – ROTK, pp 368)
***