A/N: Hello there, everyone. Just thought I'd give you all a little treat,
seeing as so many requests came through to continue this story or do a
sequel.... plus, I love it and needed some light writing. I can promise you
though that this is the very last one in the 'duty' bracket - though will
probably have more than one chapter.
Thankyou to everyone who reviewed in the last chapter. But as for your kind words on the hobbits' song, they should be forwarded to a particularly brilliant band called 'Alfie' who's lyrics I filched (I forgot to acknowledge them in the last chapter, sorry). The song always makes me thinks of hobbits and the fellowship's journey, and I was desperate to get it into one of my stories somehow! It seems to have worked!
Anyway, I think you might enjoy this... revenge is a dish best served cold and all that...
Let me know!
The Queen of Gondor was trying to enjoy as much of the mid-morning sunshine as she possibly could before she had to go back inside the palace: at that moment she was sitting in one of the many eastward gardens, her beautiful face tilted up towards the Sun as a flower would during a long winter.
She sighed happily in complete content, shamelessly enjoying the unnatural peace that fell upon the land when the King was otherwise engaged. Arwen grinned, knowing it was slightly wicked of her to think such a thing, but she couldn't help it - the children were all elsewhere, there were barely any visitors to the palace (and the ones who were there were all extrememly welcome and not troublesome at all), and her dearest Aragorn was confined to his bed-space. She giggled a little again as she looked down from the Sun to the book in her lap, reading in the peace of the garden, soft grass cushioning her and the scent of wildflowers brought from Ithilien all about.
A noise made her look towards the stairs that led from one of the servant's back doors into the garden, and she was surprised to find Legolas, leaning heavily against the stone wall, hobbling carefully down the steps with a slightly pained look on his fair face. Her curiosity prodded, she rose gracefully at once, book forgotten, and wandered over to the ailing elven prince. Nearing him, she held out a hand, which he grasped with gratitude, and helped him down the last few steps without question. The moment he was fully down, however, he bowed stiffly to her, walked swiftly to the high stone wall that seperated the balcony garden from the thin air, and leapt gracefully up onto it, pain apparently forgotten.
Arwen's brow furrowed a little at his unnatural awkwardness and formality - they had known one another for a long time, and she counted him as possibly her closest friend, and it was unlike their friendship to bow and avoid each other's eye. She opened her mouth to call him, but then thought better of it and instead walked over to the wall as well. Reaching it, she followed the lithe prince's example, holding up her many skirts and lightly leaping the tall height of the stone structure, quite against usual-Queenly protocol, to land daintily on both feet. Legolas had obviously sensed her movements and half-turned, one golden eyebrow raised as though impressed with her gymnastics, though she knew he was mildly mocking her in good nature. "Mae govannen, Undomiel," he smiled, turning fully towards her.
Arwen's deep blue eyes narrowed a little, but she smiled all the same at his humour. After a moment of continued silence, however, she could take the suspense no longer and, seeing as he seemed reluctant to voice information, she held up her hands in question. "Are you not going to tell me what the problem is, Legolas? Or must I call a guard to beat it out of you?"
"Oh no... I have had quite enough beatings to last me today, hannon le," he returned, turning from her to look out over Gondor, crossing his arms protectively in front of his chest. His demeanor suddenly radiated an unnatural moodiness, and suddenly it seemed to Arwen that a cloud had passed over the glorious Sun for a time.
Concerned, she brought a hand to his arm, forcing him gently to look at her. "Whatever is the matter, mellon nin?" she asked, really quite anxious about his odd behaviour... it had been her job upon Middle-earth for as long as she knew to worry about her Mirkwood friend, just as it had always been and always would be Legolas' job to lighten her moods, bring sunshine and starlight into her life... add that hint of elvish mischief and magic that came so naturally to him for some reason. Once, a very long time ago, hundreds of years before her dearest Aragorn was even born, she had believed she loved Legolas, and had known for definate that she held his affection... that was one of the many things that had torn at Arwen's heart the most when she met Aragorn: the fact that the love she felt for the man could destroy the friendship and love she felt for her (and his) best friend. But when Legolas had discovered Aragorn's love for Arwen, he had simply backed away, nobley allowing them to be together free from guilt... it was something the Queen was eternally thankful for, and would never forget - and she still loved Legolas, and had an incredibly strong bond with him.
And so the distress evident in her voice was plain to hear, and Legolas himself seemed a little taken aback by it. His green eyes widened, and he opened his mouth, feeling a little foolish for worrying her so, "Oh, Undomiel... I am not being serious... please forgive me for making it seem so."
The queen withdrew her hand sharply, only to smack him hard across the arm with it, mildly annoyed at being unintentionally mocked. "Then whatever is the matter?" she asked once more, though her tone this time was far less kind.
He glanced at her, alarmed: her glorious face was set and determined, chin raised and eyes flashing. He seemed to consider telling her whatever was wrong with him, if merely to keep her from anger, but then his fair face became guarded and his pointed ears held a slight pink hue to them all of a sudden, a sure, characteristic sign that he was embarrassed about something. "You'll laugh," he mumbled, and darted his eyes away.
Arwen's graceful features softened, and a small smile betrayed her, though her friend could not see. "I promise I will not." She held a hand to her breast, over her heart, "Upon my honour, I will not laugh." She made her eyes go especially wide and innocent, trying to convince him of this and also urge him to tell her.
Legolas' bright green eyes narrowed as he weighed up her earnestness, and his lips twisted into a grimace as he apparently deemed her honourable enough to uphold her promise, and he let out a frustrated grunt of annoyance at the unhappy event: "Your eyes are far too beautiful for your own good, mellon nin," he grumbled good-naturedly, mischevious nature winning through, "How am I to deny you of anything when you look at me in such a way?"
"That's my design, all right," she replied easily, smiling prettily at her life-long friend. "Now, tell me... I shall not laugh."
And so, after muttering a little about Arwen taking advantage of her own obnoxiously radiant beauty, Legolas confided in her the humiliating experience of being wrestled to the ground, beaten and sent packing by a pair of hobbits. "All at your husband's fair command!" he finished with more than a hint of outrage, ears flushed once more. He dared not look at her, for fear of her laughing at him, or feeling sorry for him... or being angered by him: accusing him of getting his braids in a twist over a stupid little nothing.
Arwen was amused - she adored the fact that Legolas was embarrassed and even remotely worried that his prideful reputation was diminished by the jesting antics of a couple of halflings. But she hid this deftly from her friend, though her blue eyes sparkled... instead, she raised one dark brow coolly, "Well then, beloved Greenleaf... I see no other choice: we shall have to get them back." And with that, she had jumped gracefully down from the wall, and was already striding across the lush green lawn in a flush of robes, towards the palace.
Legolas swiftly followed her, hitting the ground at a run to catch up. "What are you planning, Undomiel?" he asked suspiciously when he had reached her, for he knew the look the Queen had about her very well, though she got it rarely. "And why does my heart thud so anxiously?"
The elven-lady laughed, "Well, I cannot be expected to explain your eccentric body, Legolas... and as for my plan, you shall see." They were inside the palace now, walking down one of the corridors at a fast pace. At the end of the otherwise vacant hallway, a pair of figures suddenly rounded the corner, deep in conversation. Arwen smiled devilishly, "I also believe we shall be needing assistance." And so she hailed Faramir and his elven companion without any more preamble.
Faramir's silver-blue eyes widened when he saw his Queen coming towards him: for though he knew the Royal Family very well, and was counted amongst their closest friends, he still felt oddly uncomfortably and ungainly when graced by the lady Arwen's precence. She was so incredibly beautiful, and he had previously had such little experience about elves, that he felt it was impossible not to feel slightly awkward and nervous about her... even if she was as warm and friendly as she was beautiful. The Steward then spotted Legolas ambling a little way behind his friend, an odd look of confusion creasing his fine brows - it was clear he knew nothing about what was going to happen either. Faramir then glanced beside him to Martonia, hoping the dark-haired elf would know... but he recieved only the smallest of shrugs and an amusingly-perplexed face in return.
Martonia, who had lived in Rivendell and been a very good friend to Elladan, Elrohir, Aragorn and Legolas for most of his life, was blessed with a very good sense of humour, and a dry intelligence that made his witty tongue all the sharper. He was an almost intimidatingly-skilled elven architect (without whom the fledgling community of Ithilien would not have been able to flourish), and his work was counted among the most beautiful in all the lands, and his itense wit - an essential part of his being - sometimes made many (elves and men alike) a little bit nervous, but despite this... his dark grey eyes could always be found to sparkle with some kind of mischief, and none could honestly declare they knew a friendlier person at heart.
The elf-lady came to a halt in front of them, her hands upon her hips and a smile on her lips. It was only when Legolas finally caught up with her that Arwen began to speak, "My dear friends," she addressed them, "it has come to my attention that an injustice has been committed in this very palace."
Hearing these words, Legolas groaned and rolled his eyes, turning away as his ears and the skin upon his high cheekbones flushed in his embarrassment. Faramir's sharp ranger eyes caught this, and he knew instantly that whatever the incident was, it had something to do with his elven best friend. "Pray tell what injustice could this be, and who is responsible? I swear, my lady, that Martonia and I will do everything in our power to rectify this wrong," Faramir stated without hesitation, accompanied by Martonia nodding his head fervently, short dark curls bobbing - both relished the look of utter mortification that held sway over Legolas' fine features. "Who is this dastardly being?" Faramir furthered a demand.
Arwen's sweet smile widened: "Your King."
"Ah." Martonia shared a hurried glance with Faramir, and shifted his light weight back and forth on his feet, a habit the elf had when nervous. This new information made the situation just a little bit more difficult. The elven architect looked back at his Queen, his good friend, and offered a sheepish smile, hand straying to his heart as was an elf's wont when he was apologising for something, "We are sorry, M'lady, but I doubt we can aid you in this instance: we cannot betray our duty to the King, no matter what he has done and even if it is at his Queen's will."
The beauty that stood before them laughed: she had seen this coming and had an answer fully prepared.
Alright, we'll stop it there for now... let me know what you think and if you want to find out exactly how the elves take their vengeance.
Thankyou to everyone who reviewed in the last chapter. But as for your kind words on the hobbits' song, they should be forwarded to a particularly brilliant band called 'Alfie' who's lyrics I filched (I forgot to acknowledge them in the last chapter, sorry). The song always makes me thinks of hobbits and the fellowship's journey, and I was desperate to get it into one of my stories somehow! It seems to have worked!
Anyway, I think you might enjoy this... revenge is a dish best served cold and all that...
Let me know!
The Queen of Gondor was trying to enjoy as much of the mid-morning sunshine as she possibly could before she had to go back inside the palace: at that moment she was sitting in one of the many eastward gardens, her beautiful face tilted up towards the Sun as a flower would during a long winter.
She sighed happily in complete content, shamelessly enjoying the unnatural peace that fell upon the land when the King was otherwise engaged. Arwen grinned, knowing it was slightly wicked of her to think such a thing, but she couldn't help it - the children were all elsewhere, there were barely any visitors to the palace (and the ones who were there were all extrememly welcome and not troublesome at all), and her dearest Aragorn was confined to his bed-space. She giggled a little again as she looked down from the Sun to the book in her lap, reading in the peace of the garden, soft grass cushioning her and the scent of wildflowers brought from Ithilien all about.
A noise made her look towards the stairs that led from one of the servant's back doors into the garden, and she was surprised to find Legolas, leaning heavily against the stone wall, hobbling carefully down the steps with a slightly pained look on his fair face. Her curiosity prodded, she rose gracefully at once, book forgotten, and wandered over to the ailing elven prince. Nearing him, she held out a hand, which he grasped with gratitude, and helped him down the last few steps without question. The moment he was fully down, however, he bowed stiffly to her, walked swiftly to the high stone wall that seperated the balcony garden from the thin air, and leapt gracefully up onto it, pain apparently forgotten.
Arwen's brow furrowed a little at his unnatural awkwardness and formality - they had known one another for a long time, and she counted him as possibly her closest friend, and it was unlike their friendship to bow and avoid each other's eye. She opened her mouth to call him, but then thought better of it and instead walked over to the wall as well. Reaching it, she followed the lithe prince's example, holding up her many skirts and lightly leaping the tall height of the stone structure, quite against usual-Queenly protocol, to land daintily on both feet. Legolas had obviously sensed her movements and half-turned, one golden eyebrow raised as though impressed with her gymnastics, though she knew he was mildly mocking her in good nature. "Mae govannen, Undomiel," he smiled, turning fully towards her.
Arwen's deep blue eyes narrowed a little, but she smiled all the same at his humour. After a moment of continued silence, however, she could take the suspense no longer and, seeing as he seemed reluctant to voice information, she held up her hands in question. "Are you not going to tell me what the problem is, Legolas? Or must I call a guard to beat it out of you?"
"Oh no... I have had quite enough beatings to last me today, hannon le," he returned, turning from her to look out over Gondor, crossing his arms protectively in front of his chest. His demeanor suddenly radiated an unnatural moodiness, and suddenly it seemed to Arwen that a cloud had passed over the glorious Sun for a time.
Concerned, she brought a hand to his arm, forcing him gently to look at her. "Whatever is the matter, mellon nin?" she asked, really quite anxious about his odd behaviour... it had been her job upon Middle-earth for as long as she knew to worry about her Mirkwood friend, just as it had always been and always would be Legolas' job to lighten her moods, bring sunshine and starlight into her life... add that hint of elvish mischief and magic that came so naturally to him for some reason. Once, a very long time ago, hundreds of years before her dearest Aragorn was even born, she had believed she loved Legolas, and had known for definate that she held his affection... that was one of the many things that had torn at Arwen's heart the most when she met Aragorn: the fact that the love she felt for the man could destroy the friendship and love she felt for her (and his) best friend. But when Legolas had discovered Aragorn's love for Arwen, he had simply backed away, nobley allowing them to be together free from guilt... it was something the Queen was eternally thankful for, and would never forget - and she still loved Legolas, and had an incredibly strong bond with him.
And so the distress evident in her voice was plain to hear, and Legolas himself seemed a little taken aback by it. His green eyes widened, and he opened his mouth, feeling a little foolish for worrying her so, "Oh, Undomiel... I am not being serious... please forgive me for making it seem so."
The queen withdrew her hand sharply, only to smack him hard across the arm with it, mildly annoyed at being unintentionally mocked. "Then whatever is the matter?" she asked once more, though her tone this time was far less kind.
He glanced at her, alarmed: her glorious face was set and determined, chin raised and eyes flashing. He seemed to consider telling her whatever was wrong with him, if merely to keep her from anger, but then his fair face became guarded and his pointed ears held a slight pink hue to them all of a sudden, a sure, characteristic sign that he was embarrassed about something. "You'll laugh," he mumbled, and darted his eyes away.
Arwen's graceful features softened, and a small smile betrayed her, though her friend could not see. "I promise I will not." She held a hand to her breast, over her heart, "Upon my honour, I will not laugh." She made her eyes go especially wide and innocent, trying to convince him of this and also urge him to tell her.
Legolas' bright green eyes narrowed as he weighed up her earnestness, and his lips twisted into a grimace as he apparently deemed her honourable enough to uphold her promise, and he let out a frustrated grunt of annoyance at the unhappy event: "Your eyes are far too beautiful for your own good, mellon nin," he grumbled good-naturedly, mischevious nature winning through, "How am I to deny you of anything when you look at me in such a way?"
"That's my design, all right," she replied easily, smiling prettily at her life-long friend. "Now, tell me... I shall not laugh."
And so, after muttering a little about Arwen taking advantage of her own obnoxiously radiant beauty, Legolas confided in her the humiliating experience of being wrestled to the ground, beaten and sent packing by a pair of hobbits. "All at your husband's fair command!" he finished with more than a hint of outrage, ears flushed once more. He dared not look at her, for fear of her laughing at him, or feeling sorry for him... or being angered by him: accusing him of getting his braids in a twist over a stupid little nothing.
Arwen was amused - she adored the fact that Legolas was embarrassed and even remotely worried that his prideful reputation was diminished by the jesting antics of a couple of halflings. But she hid this deftly from her friend, though her blue eyes sparkled... instead, she raised one dark brow coolly, "Well then, beloved Greenleaf... I see no other choice: we shall have to get them back." And with that, she had jumped gracefully down from the wall, and was already striding across the lush green lawn in a flush of robes, towards the palace.
Legolas swiftly followed her, hitting the ground at a run to catch up. "What are you planning, Undomiel?" he asked suspiciously when he had reached her, for he knew the look the Queen had about her very well, though she got it rarely. "And why does my heart thud so anxiously?"
The elven-lady laughed, "Well, I cannot be expected to explain your eccentric body, Legolas... and as for my plan, you shall see." They were inside the palace now, walking down one of the corridors at a fast pace. At the end of the otherwise vacant hallway, a pair of figures suddenly rounded the corner, deep in conversation. Arwen smiled devilishly, "I also believe we shall be needing assistance." And so she hailed Faramir and his elven companion without any more preamble.
Faramir's silver-blue eyes widened when he saw his Queen coming towards him: for though he knew the Royal Family very well, and was counted amongst their closest friends, he still felt oddly uncomfortably and ungainly when graced by the lady Arwen's precence. She was so incredibly beautiful, and he had previously had such little experience about elves, that he felt it was impossible not to feel slightly awkward and nervous about her... even if she was as warm and friendly as she was beautiful. The Steward then spotted Legolas ambling a little way behind his friend, an odd look of confusion creasing his fine brows - it was clear he knew nothing about what was going to happen either. Faramir then glanced beside him to Martonia, hoping the dark-haired elf would know... but he recieved only the smallest of shrugs and an amusingly-perplexed face in return.
Martonia, who had lived in Rivendell and been a very good friend to Elladan, Elrohir, Aragorn and Legolas for most of his life, was blessed with a very good sense of humour, and a dry intelligence that made his witty tongue all the sharper. He was an almost intimidatingly-skilled elven architect (without whom the fledgling community of Ithilien would not have been able to flourish), and his work was counted among the most beautiful in all the lands, and his itense wit - an essential part of his being - sometimes made many (elves and men alike) a little bit nervous, but despite this... his dark grey eyes could always be found to sparkle with some kind of mischief, and none could honestly declare they knew a friendlier person at heart.
The elf-lady came to a halt in front of them, her hands upon her hips and a smile on her lips. It was only when Legolas finally caught up with her that Arwen began to speak, "My dear friends," she addressed them, "it has come to my attention that an injustice has been committed in this very palace."
Hearing these words, Legolas groaned and rolled his eyes, turning away as his ears and the skin upon his high cheekbones flushed in his embarrassment. Faramir's sharp ranger eyes caught this, and he knew instantly that whatever the incident was, it had something to do with his elven best friend. "Pray tell what injustice could this be, and who is responsible? I swear, my lady, that Martonia and I will do everything in our power to rectify this wrong," Faramir stated without hesitation, accompanied by Martonia nodding his head fervently, short dark curls bobbing - both relished the look of utter mortification that held sway over Legolas' fine features. "Who is this dastardly being?" Faramir furthered a demand.
Arwen's sweet smile widened: "Your King."
"Ah." Martonia shared a hurried glance with Faramir, and shifted his light weight back and forth on his feet, a habit the elf had when nervous. This new information made the situation just a little bit more difficult. The elven architect looked back at his Queen, his good friend, and offered a sheepish smile, hand straying to his heart as was an elf's wont when he was apologising for something, "We are sorry, M'lady, but I doubt we can aid you in this instance: we cannot betray our duty to the King, no matter what he has done and even if it is at his Queen's will."
The beauty that stood before them laughed: she had seen this coming and had an answer fully prepared.
Alright, we'll stop it there for now... let me know what you think and if you want to find out exactly how the elves take their vengeance.