Synopsis:
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?
Hi All! Here is Chapter 11. Things are going to start getting a bit complicated so I hope that you're able to follow my narrative. Dreams can be so messy can't they… ;) Also, I've swapped the italics. As so much of the next few chapters will be dedicated to the dream-world, I thought it would be easier to read if I put the 'real-world' interactions in italics instead (if you get my meaning)… ahem… anyway, let me know if it gets confusing. :)
Aramis – thanks for your continued support! We do indeed now have three people linked as one - the Master through the potion, and Legolas and Valraen through Kaimel'triall. You will notice I am trying to be as descriptive as possible – especially now that things are going to get so interesting. ;)
Nienna – I'm so glad you're still enjoying the story! I did indeed write the poem. I think it actually works better in Elvish (where noone can tell that the rhyming was cheesy). :)
EvilAngel – thanks for sticking up for the story in your review! I'm glad you're enjoying it so much. It means a lot to know that there are people out there who are getting something out of it. Hope you enjoy this next chapter!
Rhynonwen – well, when you put it like that grin… what else can I do but continue? Am glad you love the story.
Legal Stuff – All characters (except Valraen/ Arienel; The Master and Fidelian)
belong to Tokien The Great.
None to me (more's the pity). I am but a
trespasser on his glory.
Chapter 11: The child and the crone
Legolas was falling; at least that's what it felt like. He had lost all sense of time. In the deep black that surrounded him, he had lost sight even of himself. He felt only that he had been trapped forever and that forever would never end. The dark tunnel around him seemed to stretch beyond his mind's capacity to comprehend. His eyes felt blinded by the oppressive shadow.
When he finally landed, it was with a resounding crash.
Feeling the breath force itself out of his seemingly corporeal body, Legolas lifted his head. He had landed on his stomach in the middle of what seemed to be a desert. The blinding red sand flew like a tempest around his face. He lifted himself painfully to his feet and tried to get his bearings. He felt both insubstantial and uncomfortably heavy at the same time. Movement seemed difficult in this dream world he had landed in.
The sand storm rose cyclonicly around his black boots and travelled in small torandos up his body. Legolas shielded his face with his arm as he looked out into the horizon. A burning yellow sun bled into the sand as blinding rays crept across the barren landscape.
Legolas blinked as the scene before him seemed to shift and waver. Reminding himelf that he was in a dream and not in the real world, he closed his eyes and tried to focus his thoughts on finding Valraen, but the chaos around him only increased.
In his rising panic, Legolas didn't feel the black hooded figure coming up behind him to grasp him around the throat until it was too late.
His last thought before he lost consciousness was that he had failed Valraen – again.
***
Arwen had not changed in two days. Her blue robes now fell in disarray around her slender figure. She sat, as she had been sitting for more hours than she could count, beside Valraen's bed. Aragorn would have sat with her had she not insisted that he attend to his Kingdom. Dreading to leave his cousin and friend yet unable to argue with her logic, Aragorn had complied.
Since the night of the ritual, there had been no movement. Neither Legolas nor Valraen had shown the smallest signs of life. Had it not been for their shallow breathing, Arwen would have feared the worst. They were alive – more, she could not say.
Gimli stirred from his place behind the Queen. The Dwarf had fallen asleep during the long hours of their vigil and Arwen had been loathe to wake him from where he sat slumped against the wall. No-one else had been allowed into the room.
"Oh, my poor aching muscles," Gimli mumbled as he rose painfully. "I'll never be able to sit properly again." Stopping as he remembered where he was, he looked at the Queen and the silent figures before her.
"Still nothing, my lady?" he asked quietly, coming around to stand beside Legolas's bed. Dark, worry lines, now etched there permanently, ran across his forehead.
Arwen looked up at him with a small smile. "No Gimli, still nothing," she said weakly, "And how many times have I told you not to call me 'my lady'?"
The small attempt at humour flickered over them and died away. Gimli, who would have usually turned red and grinned into his beard at the familiar admonishment, managed only a ghost of a smile.
Arwen sighed and closed her eyes. When she opened them again she saw Gimli watching her closely, concern stamped across his face.
"I am alright," she said , reading his expression correctly, "But we cannot help them Gimli. All we can do is wait."
So they waited – and waited.
***
"Wake-up! Wake-up, sleepy-head!"
Dazed by the sharp white light now piercing his sore eyelids, Legolas blinked his way to consciousness. Confused and disorientated, he sat up painfully and tried to figure out what world he was in now. The first thing he registered was that he was not dead. The second was that, judging by the brightness of the colours around him and his dream-like surroundings, he was still in Kaimel'triall.
The colours in fact were so bright that they were dazzling. He looked around him and tried to determine what this was. It seemed to him that he was in a small one-roomed cottage. He lay in a small bed at the edge of the room, covered in warm sheets and blankets. The smell of athelas came to him from the open window behind his head, although he could sense no breeze. The rustic but cosy room contained only one small table with three chairs, the bed he was sitting on and, what appeared to be, a very old oven lined with an assortment of pots and pans.
Rising out of the bed, Legolas realised that his shirt, tunic and boots had been removed but that he was otherwise unharmed. His bow, arrows and the King's elfstone lay across the table as if placed there reverently by one who knew of their importance.
"Wake-up! Wake-up! Whoever you are!" The sound of laughter poured in through the window after the athelas.
Looking out towards the sound of the voice, Legolas gasped and fell back at site that greeted him
A child stood with her chin resting on her arms against the windowsill.
"Valraen!" Legolas exclaimed as he moved towards her.
The little girl before him giggled as she skipped back out of his reach and into the yard outside. Her long black tresses fell in full, glossy waves down her back. Her attire was not the long white dress of an adult, but the small green pant-tunic of a child. A small golden rope was looped around her brown leather belt, while the handle of what seemed to be a knife peeked out above the edge of one of her small boots. Valraen – not as she was now, but as she used to be. Valraen as an eight year old child.
Legolas followed her outside and watched as she skipped in circles around him. A dense forest surrounded the entire circumference of the cottage and the small yard. In the middle of the yard a Mellyrn tree stood in full bloom, it's yellow blossoms falling like rain to form a blanket around the base of the trunk. Legolas watched with surprise and awe as the falling blossoms replenished themselves, growing instantly on the flourishing branches, only to fall immediately and grow again.
Looking around, Legolas saw that the cottage, built with a light golden stone, was covered in creeping vines covered in small white flowers that rose from the ground and stretched to the roof. Athelas interspersed with the Mellyrn blossoms in the yard. The bright sun shown down on them, shimmering off the yellow-white layer and the green of the grass.
He looked back to the little girl who now stood still in the midst of all this colour and watched him curiously.
"Valraen," he repeated. "Where are we?"
The child grinned broadly and looked at him mischievously with big violet eyes.
"Grandma says I know you," she giggled. "Do I know you?"
Legolas felt confused. "Valraen, what –" he began but a voice behind him answered his question.
"She doesn't answer to that name," it said. "Come to think of it, neither do I. At least, not for a long time."
Legolas swung around. An old woman stood behind him where before there had been no-one. Her short hair was pure white and framed her heart-shaped face in short waves. Though far taller than the child, she was very slender and she wore a silver robe, drawn in at the waist with a thin, shimmering belt.
"By the way," she grinned, the wrinkled skin around her violet eyes crinkling even further, "It's good to see you again!"
Legolas was stunned. He opened his mouth to speak but could find no words.
"Valraen –" was all he could manage.
"Well," said the old woman. "Yes… and no."
"Where am I?" Legolas croaked.
"In our head," the old woman said with a laugh. "Where do you think you are?"
Legolas closed his eyes briefly and tried to still his muddled thoughts. If he was going to save Valraen, he needed to gather what wits he had left
"And who are you?" he asked.
"Valraen," the old woman said. "Or rather, a part of her…
"And the child?" asked Legolas tensely.
"Also Valraen," said the old woman cheekily. "Or rather, another part of her."
She looked at Legolas shrewdly. "You," she said, "Are Legolas, are you not?"
"Yes," Legolas said.
"Well then Legolas," said the crone, as all humour faded from her face, "Once we were one, but when the dark man came we shattered and became many. You are looking at the final two remnants of our spirit; the only two parts that have managed to survive the shadow that plagues our soul."
She looked at him intensely. "We saved you from the dark man before he could harm you and brought you to this place – this haven – but we have run out of time. We are in danger, and if we are lost, then all and everything that is the woman you love is lost with us. Do you understand?"
Legolas looked at the child and the
crone without flinching.
"I understand," he said. "Tell me what to do."
***