*A/N*: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any of the names or characters
used in Tolkien's wonderful stories, but Calathi and all other characters
are copyright 2002 Meghan.
***Now I know who you are, Raven!!! STOP THIS NOW, or I will be forced to use my nails against you! There is no need to review every single chapter or argue with the other reviewers. You can tell me what you think yourself!!!!
**To the other reviewers, I apologize. Please, continue sending me your reviews! They mean more to me than from people I know, because you don't know me and therefore won't really judge me! And even if you do, I don't really care, that's your decision.
***To Winterfox specifically, I'm sorry if I develop this romance too quickly, I don't have much time and I may be forced to end it prematurely. I will, however, when I am finished this story, write another, VERY different, one, and I will take my time on it.
* * * * *
Chapter Eight
Calathi awoke when she heard a knock at her door. Startled, she jumped to her feet too quickly. Her head swam and her knees collapsed, stiff and weak from spending the entire night in the same sitting position upon the hard stone floor. Her feet were tangled in her wrinkled gown, and she toppled to the floor where she landed with a loud crack.
The guard who had knocked opened the door at the sound and found Calathi lying on the floor, cradling her left arm, which was now bent at an irregular angle. Tears streamed down her already streaked face, and she shook with the effort of holding her cries in.
"My Lady!" he exclaimed. "How did this happen?" He bent and gently lifted her, making sure he did not touch the obviously broken arm. Treating her as he would a young child, he rushed down the hallway.
Calathi's arm throbbed with a pain so intense that she felt herself drifting in and out of consciousness, her body's attempt to deal with her extreme anguish. Vaguely, she saw a figure hovering over her, distantly chanting incomprehensible words.
Someone was pressing a cool cloth to her forehead – was wiping away the warm blood that she had not noticed was there before. As the healing chants eased her pain, she saw the same sapphire eyes, now clouded with worry, looking into her own. "Legolas," she whispered, "Legolas, I'm sorry."
"No, Calathi, do not be. It is I who was mistaken. But what you said was not true. My father's opinion means very little to me in matters such as this." Another voice murmured something, and the prince took her hand in his. "Look at me," he said. "Do not take your eyes from me."
She felt someone apply slight pressure to her arm and realized what was coming next. She let loose an agonizing scream as Thranduil set her arm. Then she broke out in a cold sweat. Legolas squeezed her hand. "Calathi – Calathi, look at me."
She couldn't quite tell whom it was that was speaking to her. She could feel a far away ache, but she did not seem to care. This feeling was new to her – carefree, almost as though she were floating. The familiar voice broke through a barrier in her mind.
"Lirimaer lovely one, stay. Look at me. Do not leave." Who was that? Oh well, no matter. She could stay in this space forever, feeling no pain, no sorrow. Suddenly, lips brushed hers, and she was brought back to reality.
"Legolas," she whispered. Her arm no longer throbbed, and she noticed that it was now wrapped tightly.
"Calathi, I am here. I'm right here." He applied another cloth to her forehead, and she winced as she felt the gash there sting. After she lay there for a bit, he helped her to sit up, and she noticed that people had gathered around when they heard the commotion. Nora ran to her friend.
"Oh Calathi, how…what…" she gave up on her inquiry and embraced her friend. "Don't ever do that again!" she scolded. "You scared me!"
"I'll try not to," she said, giggling. Her head began to pound, and she became dizzy again.
"Take her back to her room, Legolas," said King Thranduil. "She needs rest to heal." At that moment, Calathi began to moan, clutching her head with one hand as though afraid it would explode. She had a handful of Legolas' tunic in the other, trying to steady herself.
Legolas nodded to his father and scooped up the injured elf. They left the noise of the crowd behind as they headed to her palace room. "What happened?" she asked him, still holding her aching head.
"You broke your arm. When my father set it, you went into shock."
"Oh," she answered meekly.
"I tried calling you back, but you were too far gone."
"Then how did you save me?" Calathi asked. "I dreamed…well, I dreamed that…that someone kissed me." Her cheeks became flushed, causing her head to pound even more.
"You did not dream," he said. "It is I who kissed you." At that moment, they entered Calathi's room, and Legolas laid her on the bed. "You are strong, Lirimaer. You did return, though many might not have." He bent over her and kissed her on the forehead. "Sleep well, Calathi."
"Legolas? What did you mean with what you said before?"
He paused and looked at her, losing himself in her beauty. He finally said, "Calathi, you have grown in my heart since the first time we spoke, for in my lifetime I have never known one so strong or brave as you. I will not allow my father to interfere with whom I choose to love."
*Love, * she thought. *He speaks of love? *
As if reading her thoughts, Legolas continued. "I am not yet sure what my heart is trying to tell me, but every time I see your fair face, it leaps within my breast. Now rest." Then he began to sing healing words, lulling her to sleep and soothing her pain.
Her headache eased; she relaxed into the soft pillows of her bed. A feeling of peace washed over her. "Thank you, Legolas. I care a lot about you too." He smiled, then left the room. Calathi closed her eyes and, still smiling herself, instantly fell asleep.
***Now I know who you are, Raven!!! STOP THIS NOW, or I will be forced to use my nails against you! There is no need to review every single chapter or argue with the other reviewers. You can tell me what you think yourself!!!!
**To the other reviewers, I apologize. Please, continue sending me your reviews! They mean more to me than from people I know, because you don't know me and therefore won't really judge me! And even if you do, I don't really care, that's your decision.
***To Winterfox specifically, I'm sorry if I develop this romance too quickly, I don't have much time and I may be forced to end it prematurely. I will, however, when I am finished this story, write another, VERY different, one, and I will take my time on it.
* * * * *
Chapter Eight
Calathi awoke when she heard a knock at her door. Startled, she jumped to her feet too quickly. Her head swam and her knees collapsed, stiff and weak from spending the entire night in the same sitting position upon the hard stone floor. Her feet were tangled in her wrinkled gown, and she toppled to the floor where she landed with a loud crack.
The guard who had knocked opened the door at the sound and found Calathi lying on the floor, cradling her left arm, which was now bent at an irregular angle. Tears streamed down her already streaked face, and she shook with the effort of holding her cries in.
"My Lady!" he exclaimed. "How did this happen?" He bent and gently lifted her, making sure he did not touch the obviously broken arm. Treating her as he would a young child, he rushed down the hallway.
Calathi's arm throbbed with a pain so intense that she felt herself drifting in and out of consciousness, her body's attempt to deal with her extreme anguish. Vaguely, she saw a figure hovering over her, distantly chanting incomprehensible words.
Someone was pressing a cool cloth to her forehead – was wiping away the warm blood that she had not noticed was there before. As the healing chants eased her pain, she saw the same sapphire eyes, now clouded with worry, looking into her own. "Legolas," she whispered, "Legolas, I'm sorry."
"No, Calathi, do not be. It is I who was mistaken. But what you said was not true. My father's opinion means very little to me in matters such as this." Another voice murmured something, and the prince took her hand in his. "Look at me," he said. "Do not take your eyes from me."
She felt someone apply slight pressure to her arm and realized what was coming next. She let loose an agonizing scream as Thranduil set her arm. Then she broke out in a cold sweat. Legolas squeezed her hand. "Calathi – Calathi, look at me."
She couldn't quite tell whom it was that was speaking to her. She could feel a far away ache, but she did not seem to care. This feeling was new to her – carefree, almost as though she were floating. The familiar voice broke through a barrier in her mind.
"Lirimaer lovely one, stay. Look at me. Do not leave." Who was that? Oh well, no matter. She could stay in this space forever, feeling no pain, no sorrow. Suddenly, lips brushed hers, and she was brought back to reality.
"Legolas," she whispered. Her arm no longer throbbed, and she noticed that it was now wrapped tightly.
"Calathi, I am here. I'm right here." He applied another cloth to her forehead, and she winced as she felt the gash there sting. After she lay there for a bit, he helped her to sit up, and she noticed that people had gathered around when they heard the commotion. Nora ran to her friend.
"Oh Calathi, how…what…" she gave up on her inquiry and embraced her friend. "Don't ever do that again!" she scolded. "You scared me!"
"I'll try not to," she said, giggling. Her head began to pound, and she became dizzy again.
"Take her back to her room, Legolas," said King Thranduil. "She needs rest to heal." At that moment, Calathi began to moan, clutching her head with one hand as though afraid it would explode. She had a handful of Legolas' tunic in the other, trying to steady herself.
Legolas nodded to his father and scooped up the injured elf. They left the noise of the crowd behind as they headed to her palace room. "What happened?" she asked him, still holding her aching head.
"You broke your arm. When my father set it, you went into shock."
"Oh," she answered meekly.
"I tried calling you back, but you were too far gone."
"Then how did you save me?" Calathi asked. "I dreamed…well, I dreamed that…that someone kissed me." Her cheeks became flushed, causing her head to pound even more.
"You did not dream," he said. "It is I who kissed you." At that moment, they entered Calathi's room, and Legolas laid her on the bed. "You are strong, Lirimaer. You did return, though many might not have." He bent over her and kissed her on the forehead. "Sleep well, Calathi."
"Legolas? What did you mean with what you said before?"
He paused and looked at her, losing himself in her beauty. He finally said, "Calathi, you have grown in my heart since the first time we spoke, for in my lifetime I have never known one so strong or brave as you. I will not allow my father to interfere with whom I choose to love."
*Love, * she thought. *He speaks of love? *
As if reading her thoughts, Legolas continued. "I am not yet sure what my heart is trying to tell me, but every time I see your fair face, it leaps within my breast. Now rest." Then he began to sing healing words, lulling her to sleep and soothing her pain.
Her headache eased; she relaxed into the soft pillows of her bed. A feeling of peace washed over her. "Thank you, Legolas. I care a lot about you too." He smiled, then left the room. Calathi closed her eyes and, still smiling herself, instantly fell asleep.