Disclaimer: Whoa, hold on let me check. Nope. I still don't own Lord of the
Rings. Happy?
Author's Note: Hi, peoples! Man, its been long! Sorry I never updated but I was busy with my other fics and I never got around to this one. Big thanks to those who reviewed!
Bittersweet Revenge
Strange Meetings
Hithiel awoke in a small stone room. Her entire body ached and blood steamed freely down her back. She winced with every movement and she finally gave up trying to get up. She lay back down on the cold stone floor panting with effort. Her tunic was torn from the whip, exposing angry red shade on her normally pale flawless back. Her fingers dug into the ground as she willed the pain to go away.
The door to the cell opened and her mother came in. Seeing her awake, she grabbed Hithiel roughly by her raven locks and pulled her up. "Quit lying on the floor!" she barked. The golden mask was in its usual place and covered the monstrosity. "You have a job to do! Fail again and your life will be forfeit!"
Hithiel moaned in pain as she was dragged up to her feet. She nearly fell over again but the fear of being struck again kept her on her feet. Her mother slapped her again for showing weakness. 'Let me die... please just let me go' she thought wearily.
"What are you standing there for? GO!" she ordered waking Hithiel from her grim thoughts.
The beautiful She-Elf's proud head bowed. Dark locks hung around her face, hiding the tear streaks upon her cheeks. Hithiel knew she had no choice. It was a gamble. Either her life or Thranduil's. It didn't matter anymore.
She slipped away as quiet as a mere shadow, keeping her face hidden. She went to her chambers and threw on another pair of tunic and tossing her old one. It was hopelessly ripped and bloody. Her Elven healing powers would take care of her wounds. She tried not to wince as the fabric touched her wounds.
With nimble fingers, he did her hair in a traditional warrior's braid. They shook slightly as they did the clasp. With deft movements, he slung her quiver over her shoulder and fastened her long knives to her back. She picked up her long bow and walked out of the place she of as home. She wanted to put as much distance as she could between her and that cave.
As soon as she stepped out of the cave, a smile spread across her face. Sunlight shone down upon her and she stood there basking in its warmth until a loud whinny awoke her. She opened her eyes to find her mare, Gwathir waiting for her to mount. With practiced grace, she swung on and kicked her into a fast gallop, heading towards Mirkwood.
She knew all the passages to Mirkwood. She had spent countless boring hours mapping out its terrain and passages. The guards' routine and when they took their breaks. She headed towards the eastern borders of Mirkwood and slipped in unnoticed.
She headed towards the palace and when she got close, she slipped off her horse. Gwathir attracted too much attention. The Elf glided silently along the path, her blood quickening as the thought of the victory that lay ahead, so long awaited and now so close at hand. 'And Mother would be proud of me for once,' she thought.
Hithiel desperately wanted her mother's love but she was always pushed away. Duty always came first. Determination was set in her emerald eyes as she sneaked through the grounds. She would succeed and win her mother's love.
The path ended at the stonewall, and again, the Elf paused, alert and observant. She crouched in the shadow of the wall and examined the scene spread out before her. Beyond the wall was a garden as lovely as anything she had ever seen.
Hithiel's innate love of beauty and peace welled up within her, pushing aside for a moment the urgency of her mission scene, for Elves to be seduced by such splendor. As indeed they had been, she concluded as her gaze lifted above the garden to a distant castle, a marvel of enspelled moonstone and marble. Her sparkling green eyes glittered with hate and triumph as she realized that the trail had led her to the very center of Thranduil's power.
Between her and the palace was an enormous maze fashioned of boxwood hedges. Perfect. How could her task get any more difficult? The arrangement did have its advantages though. It would shield her of any oncoming guards or patrol units. The maze didn't worry her too much though but its entrance could only be reached only through a garden of niphredils. Blessed flowers from the West that was cultivated for sound as will as beauty and scent. The flowers sent faint music drifting towards her in the still morning air.
The Elf listened for a moment, and her jaw tightened. She'd seen such gardens before. The flower beds and statuary were arranged to catch and channel the slightest breath of wind, so that the flowers constantly chimed one of several melodies. Any disruption of the air flow, however, faint, would change their song. In effect, the garden was a beautiful but effective alarm system.
She vaulted easily over the low stone wall and glided past the niphredil garden with an economy of motion only the best Elven rangers could achieve. As she had feared, the tinkling song subtly altered with her passing. To her sensitive ear, the disruption was as glaring as a trumpet's blast, and she ducked behind a statue and steeled herself for the approach of the palace guard.
Several silent minutes passed, and eventually the Elf relaxed. Her lips twisted in derision as she pictured the palace guards-oafs too stupid and common to recognize their own musical alarm. She allowed a smile to grace her lips as she pictured their daily blunders.
Garden mazes, she knew, tended to follow a common pattern. After a few confident turns, Hithiel began to suspect that this one was an exception. This maze was like nothing she had seen before. Vast and whimsical, its convoluted paths wandered from one small garden to another, each one more fantastic than the last. With a growing sense of dismay, the Elf passed exotic fruit trees, fountains, arbors, berry patches, tiny ponds filled with bright fish, and hummingbirds breakfasting amid vines of red trumpet flowers. Most striking were the magical displays depicting familiar episodes from Elven folklore: Tinuviel's enchanting dances, the rise of Numeron, the White City at its height, and the famed beauty of Prince Legolas.
She pressed on, determined not to fail this time running to the entrance of yet another garden clearing. One glance inside, and she skidded to a stop. Before her was a marble pedestal topped with a large, water filled globe. Surely she couldn't have passed that globe before! She crept closer for a better look. A magical illusion raged with the sphere, a glorious Elf with waist length hair led an army of thousands, releasing their wrath upon an ugly orc army. By the Valor, it was the fame of Prince Legolas again.
There could be no doubt. Surely not even this ridiculous maze could have two such displays. The Elf raked both hands through her raven locks, tugging at it in self-disgust. She, and Elf as renown for her ranger's skills as her talents with sword and bow, had been running around in circles.
She sank to the ground and pounded her fists. She blamed herself for not going by the north entrance. Now she was hopelessly lost in this stupid maze!
Suddenly, she felt steel pressed along the length of her neck. "Who are you?" stated a low melodic voice.
Hithiel swallowed and thought quickly. "I am no one of importance," she responded, her hand inching its way towards her knives.
The sword upon her neck dug a little harder. "Speak!" it commanded.
Without warning, Hithiel ducked under the blade and her knives flew into action. She struck a hard blow at the startled Elf but he reacted quickly and pulled his sword up in time to block the blow. "I am Hithiel, daughter of Artamir!" she cried as she swung her knives in a high arc to deal another blow.
"What is your business here?" he asked as he easily avoided her blades. He spun and jabbed at her with his sword. His blue-gray eyes flashed with excitement as she blocked it and turned her parry into a thrust. He blocked it easily. It has been long since he had fought an equal besides Legolas and it was exciting.
Hithiel's eyes grew wide as the sword missed her, barely cutting off her pointed ear. "Why should I tell you?" she snarled lunging low and bringing both knives towards his smirking face.
The golden Elf stepped back a step to avoid her knives. Hithiel was relentless and pressed on. Suddenly, an arrow zoomed out of nowhere and caught itself on the sleeve of Hithiel's tunic. It embedded itself into a nearby tree. Hithiel glared at the unseen archer and tried to tug herself free. "Because," said a new voice. "You are out numbered." Another arrow pinned itself to her other sleeve, trapping her there.
"Show yourself!" she commanded at the silent archer.
A dark figure slid gracefully out of a nearby tree, his muscles rippling like those of a panther. She recognized him as Prince Legolas like the one from the globe. The other Elf, who was broader than the Prince swept his sword around neatly and rested it upon her neck.
"Admit defeat," he said in his calm tone.
Author's Note: There you go! Next chapter will take awhile until I get some inspiration. For those who read We Are One, you know Gwathir, Ambaril, and Sayda. For those who didn't, you will find out!
Author's Note: Hi, peoples! Man, its been long! Sorry I never updated but I was busy with my other fics and I never got around to this one. Big thanks to those who reviewed!
Bittersweet Revenge
Strange Meetings
Hithiel awoke in a small stone room. Her entire body ached and blood steamed freely down her back. She winced with every movement and she finally gave up trying to get up. She lay back down on the cold stone floor panting with effort. Her tunic was torn from the whip, exposing angry red shade on her normally pale flawless back. Her fingers dug into the ground as she willed the pain to go away.
The door to the cell opened and her mother came in. Seeing her awake, she grabbed Hithiel roughly by her raven locks and pulled her up. "Quit lying on the floor!" she barked. The golden mask was in its usual place and covered the monstrosity. "You have a job to do! Fail again and your life will be forfeit!"
Hithiel moaned in pain as she was dragged up to her feet. She nearly fell over again but the fear of being struck again kept her on her feet. Her mother slapped her again for showing weakness. 'Let me die... please just let me go' she thought wearily.
"What are you standing there for? GO!" she ordered waking Hithiel from her grim thoughts.
The beautiful She-Elf's proud head bowed. Dark locks hung around her face, hiding the tear streaks upon her cheeks. Hithiel knew she had no choice. It was a gamble. Either her life or Thranduil's. It didn't matter anymore.
She slipped away as quiet as a mere shadow, keeping her face hidden. She went to her chambers and threw on another pair of tunic and tossing her old one. It was hopelessly ripped and bloody. Her Elven healing powers would take care of her wounds. She tried not to wince as the fabric touched her wounds.
With nimble fingers, he did her hair in a traditional warrior's braid. They shook slightly as they did the clasp. With deft movements, he slung her quiver over her shoulder and fastened her long knives to her back. She picked up her long bow and walked out of the place she of as home. She wanted to put as much distance as she could between her and that cave.
As soon as she stepped out of the cave, a smile spread across her face. Sunlight shone down upon her and she stood there basking in its warmth until a loud whinny awoke her. She opened her eyes to find her mare, Gwathir waiting for her to mount. With practiced grace, she swung on and kicked her into a fast gallop, heading towards Mirkwood.
She knew all the passages to Mirkwood. She had spent countless boring hours mapping out its terrain and passages. The guards' routine and when they took their breaks. She headed towards the eastern borders of Mirkwood and slipped in unnoticed.
She headed towards the palace and when she got close, she slipped off her horse. Gwathir attracted too much attention. The Elf glided silently along the path, her blood quickening as the thought of the victory that lay ahead, so long awaited and now so close at hand. 'And Mother would be proud of me for once,' she thought.
Hithiel desperately wanted her mother's love but she was always pushed away. Duty always came first. Determination was set in her emerald eyes as she sneaked through the grounds. She would succeed and win her mother's love.
The path ended at the stonewall, and again, the Elf paused, alert and observant. She crouched in the shadow of the wall and examined the scene spread out before her. Beyond the wall was a garden as lovely as anything she had ever seen.
Hithiel's innate love of beauty and peace welled up within her, pushing aside for a moment the urgency of her mission scene, for Elves to be seduced by such splendor. As indeed they had been, she concluded as her gaze lifted above the garden to a distant castle, a marvel of enspelled moonstone and marble. Her sparkling green eyes glittered with hate and triumph as she realized that the trail had led her to the very center of Thranduil's power.
Between her and the palace was an enormous maze fashioned of boxwood hedges. Perfect. How could her task get any more difficult? The arrangement did have its advantages though. It would shield her of any oncoming guards or patrol units. The maze didn't worry her too much though but its entrance could only be reached only through a garden of niphredils. Blessed flowers from the West that was cultivated for sound as will as beauty and scent. The flowers sent faint music drifting towards her in the still morning air.
The Elf listened for a moment, and her jaw tightened. She'd seen such gardens before. The flower beds and statuary were arranged to catch and channel the slightest breath of wind, so that the flowers constantly chimed one of several melodies. Any disruption of the air flow, however, faint, would change their song. In effect, the garden was a beautiful but effective alarm system.
She vaulted easily over the low stone wall and glided past the niphredil garden with an economy of motion only the best Elven rangers could achieve. As she had feared, the tinkling song subtly altered with her passing. To her sensitive ear, the disruption was as glaring as a trumpet's blast, and she ducked behind a statue and steeled herself for the approach of the palace guard.
Several silent minutes passed, and eventually the Elf relaxed. Her lips twisted in derision as she pictured the palace guards-oafs too stupid and common to recognize their own musical alarm. She allowed a smile to grace her lips as she pictured their daily blunders.
Garden mazes, she knew, tended to follow a common pattern. After a few confident turns, Hithiel began to suspect that this one was an exception. This maze was like nothing she had seen before. Vast and whimsical, its convoluted paths wandered from one small garden to another, each one more fantastic than the last. With a growing sense of dismay, the Elf passed exotic fruit trees, fountains, arbors, berry patches, tiny ponds filled with bright fish, and hummingbirds breakfasting amid vines of red trumpet flowers. Most striking were the magical displays depicting familiar episodes from Elven folklore: Tinuviel's enchanting dances, the rise of Numeron, the White City at its height, and the famed beauty of Prince Legolas.
She pressed on, determined not to fail this time running to the entrance of yet another garden clearing. One glance inside, and she skidded to a stop. Before her was a marble pedestal topped with a large, water filled globe. Surely she couldn't have passed that globe before! She crept closer for a better look. A magical illusion raged with the sphere, a glorious Elf with waist length hair led an army of thousands, releasing their wrath upon an ugly orc army. By the Valor, it was the fame of Prince Legolas again.
There could be no doubt. Surely not even this ridiculous maze could have two such displays. The Elf raked both hands through her raven locks, tugging at it in self-disgust. She, and Elf as renown for her ranger's skills as her talents with sword and bow, had been running around in circles.
She sank to the ground and pounded her fists. She blamed herself for not going by the north entrance. Now she was hopelessly lost in this stupid maze!
Suddenly, she felt steel pressed along the length of her neck. "Who are you?" stated a low melodic voice.
Hithiel swallowed and thought quickly. "I am no one of importance," she responded, her hand inching its way towards her knives.
The sword upon her neck dug a little harder. "Speak!" it commanded.
Without warning, Hithiel ducked under the blade and her knives flew into action. She struck a hard blow at the startled Elf but he reacted quickly and pulled his sword up in time to block the blow. "I am Hithiel, daughter of Artamir!" she cried as she swung her knives in a high arc to deal another blow.
"What is your business here?" he asked as he easily avoided her blades. He spun and jabbed at her with his sword. His blue-gray eyes flashed with excitement as she blocked it and turned her parry into a thrust. He blocked it easily. It has been long since he had fought an equal besides Legolas and it was exciting.
Hithiel's eyes grew wide as the sword missed her, barely cutting off her pointed ear. "Why should I tell you?" she snarled lunging low and bringing both knives towards his smirking face.
The golden Elf stepped back a step to avoid her knives. Hithiel was relentless and pressed on. Suddenly, an arrow zoomed out of nowhere and caught itself on the sleeve of Hithiel's tunic. It embedded itself into a nearby tree. Hithiel glared at the unseen archer and tried to tug herself free. "Because," said a new voice. "You are out numbered." Another arrow pinned itself to her other sleeve, trapping her there.
"Show yourself!" she commanded at the silent archer.
A dark figure slid gracefully out of a nearby tree, his muscles rippling like those of a panther. She recognized him as Prince Legolas like the one from the globe. The other Elf, who was broader than the Prince swept his sword around neatly and rested it upon her neck.
"Admit defeat," he said in his calm tone.
Author's Note: There you go! Next chapter will take awhile until I get some inspiration. For those who read We Are One, you know Gwathir, Ambaril, and Sayda. For those who didn't, you will find out!