Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings is not mine. There ya happy?
Author's Note: Sorry I didn't update sooner. This chapter will clarify some stuff. I'll try to update every week. It will be much easier now because I'm almost done with the other one.
Bittersweet Revenge
Scars Don't Fade
~*~*~In Dreams~*~*~
Clear blue eyes, red rimmed from tears stared up at him, pleadingly. The pale skin was marred with tears. "No, don't leave me!" The young Elf woman took a halting step towards him. "My love?" She moved as if to touch him but he jerked away. The pale hand withdrew and sobs started again.
He looked down at her with pity in his eyes and shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry. I can't."
"But what about..... our.....?"
"She will never exist." His sapphire blue eyes traveled to the sleeping bundle next to them. His heart jerked painfully as he thought about it but he had no choice. He must do it for the good of the people. That is all. That's the reason for his life. That meant the beautiful Luthien will be his wife. He felt his heart rip painfully and tears clouded his vision but he blinked them away.
He forced himself to keep a calm composure. "I can not. I have my duty to my people. She will never exist," he whispered again into the stuffy dry air of the hut.
Slowly, regretfully, he turned around and walked out of the hut, taking with him a single lit candle. He walked out of the small home that he built with his own hands. The place where memories and love were shared. A silver tear slid down his face. "Namaarie, Artamir," he whispered into the starless night and he flung the candle into the hut.
The dried wood easily caught aflame. The flame of the candle grew bigger and bigger, swallowing the hut, its fiery arms wrapped around it. It was both beautiful and terrible. His eyes grew wide as he saw a dark shape rise within the hut and catch on fire. It rose and fell like the tide, twisting. A shrill scream pierced the night air, growing louder and louder until it seemed as if the entire woods seem to take up the cry.
~*~*~End Dream~*~*~
Thranduil sat up in his bed with a shout, the silk shirt clinging to his back, wet with sweat. His breath came out in short pants. The woman's scream still echoed in his ears. The golden locks that were usually pinned up carefully with silver clasps hung messily around his broad shoulders. "No....." he gasped. "No, she's dead. She is dead," he told himself firmly trying to reassure himself.
Behind him, Luthien woke up and slid her arms around the King. She buried her head within his unruly mane and nuzzled him gently. Thranduil looked around and wrapped his wife up in a tight embrace. Gently, she stroked his golden hair, her slim fingers untangled the many knots. "It was her," murmured Thranduil in a raspy voice. "I saw her again."
He didn't need to say who 'her' was. They both knew well about Artamir who supposedly died in a fire. "But she's dead," Luthien's beautiful voice swirled through the chamber. "The past still hurts but you had no choice. For the good of the people."
"Yes," Thranduil said dully. "For the good of Mirkwood." Heaving a sigh, he slowly climbed out of bed, to get ready for another day.
~*~*~With Legolas~*~*~
"Speak," commanded the older Elf with the sword pointed at the pale column of throat. His stormy blue eyes sparkled with life from the skirmish that he had won with help from his friend. His captive was beautiful with green eyes that now glared at him. She looked so helpless but he knew that she was skilled underneath.
The dark-haired Elf struggled furtively against her bonds but the arrows were buried deep within the tree. The rough bark scrapped her injured back and she felt her blood run down her back again. The cold steel pressed against her neck so she was forced to talk. "What?"
"What is your business here in Mirkwood. This is forbidden to all except the royal family and guests." Hithiel switched her gaze to the Prince. His musical voice was soothing but powerful. Much like himself. Although looking delicate and beautiful in the exterior, it hid his inner strength and power.
"My business is my own. Now unhand me," she said in a clear voice not trusting the Elves at all. Her mother had taught her that all males are worthless and not to be trusted with anything. Artamir had trusted one once but she came out barely alive.
The broader one chuckled. "What's so funny?" demanded the She-Elf still trying to get free. The fire creeping along her back was growing and the bark wasn't helping at all. She bit back the pain, refusing to show any weakness to the strangers.
"You are in no position to be demanding things from the Great Prince of Mirkwood," he said smirking and at that moment, Hithiel wanted to punch the lights out of this arrogant Elf. "You are a mere child compare to him yet you are ordering him around."
Hithiel seethed with anger and she tried to wretch herself away from the tree. Unfortunately, it caused her to rip open the wounds on her back. The motions of the fight and attempted escape caused the scars to open and bleed afresh. An unwanted grunt of pain escaped the dark-haired Elf as her knees bucked under the pain.
Both male Elves turned in surprise at this until they saw the red blood staining the back of her forest green tunic. The Prince made to touch the injury but was stopped by a snarl from Hithiel. "Don't touch me!"
"Lady, I only wish to help," he said gently. Legolas had a gentle heart and could not bear to watch her suffer. He was confused when the Elf recoiled away from him frantically as if he had something that was contagious.
"Get away from!" she cried shrilly backing up against the tree. Legolas now saw that the tree was also tinted red with her blood.
"You need help. You are bleeding badly," he said patiently trying to talk some sense into the apparently crazy She-Elf.
Hithiel's emerald green eyes were now clouded with pain. It felt as if there was a white-hot sword branding her back. She was in agony except she tried her best to hide it. It didn't help at all that her hands were still caught on the tree. A cry of pain escaped her lips as another wave of pain washed over her back.
The other Elf now approached her and tried to help support her. She flinched away from his touch earning a very hurt or confused expression from him. Her legs would not support her any longer and she crumpled to the mossy ground. Her back scraped against the rough bark shooting a spasm along her back. And she knew no more as she fell unconscious into the waiting arms of the Prince.
The older Elf pulled the arrows out of the tree, freeing the She-Elf. "Let's get her inside," said Legolas seeing the intensity of her wounds.
The Elf nodded and helped his friend along through the twisting maze towards the Mirkwood palace where Thranduil was.
Sorry for the shortness! I couldn't find another good place to stop! Now you can make me VERY happy by pressing the lil purple button down there and reviewing! Thanx!
Author's Note: Sorry I didn't update sooner. This chapter will clarify some stuff. I'll try to update every week. It will be much easier now because I'm almost done with the other one.
Bittersweet Revenge
Scars Don't Fade
~*~*~In Dreams~*~*~
Clear blue eyes, red rimmed from tears stared up at him, pleadingly. The pale skin was marred with tears. "No, don't leave me!" The young Elf woman took a halting step towards him. "My love?" She moved as if to touch him but he jerked away. The pale hand withdrew and sobs started again.
He looked down at her with pity in his eyes and shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry. I can't."
"But what about..... our.....?"
"She will never exist." His sapphire blue eyes traveled to the sleeping bundle next to them. His heart jerked painfully as he thought about it but he had no choice. He must do it for the good of the people. That is all. That's the reason for his life. That meant the beautiful Luthien will be his wife. He felt his heart rip painfully and tears clouded his vision but he blinked them away.
He forced himself to keep a calm composure. "I can not. I have my duty to my people. She will never exist," he whispered again into the stuffy dry air of the hut.
Slowly, regretfully, he turned around and walked out of the hut, taking with him a single lit candle. He walked out of the small home that he built with his own hands. The place where memories and love were shared. A silver tear slid down his face. "Namaarie, Artamir," he whispered into the starless night and he flung the candle into the hut.
The dried wood easily caught aflame. The flame of the candle grew bigger and bigger, swallowing the hut, its fiery arms wrapped around it. It was both beautiful and terrible. His eyes grew wide as he saw a dark shape rise within the hut and catch on fire. It rose and fell like the tide, twisting. A shrill scream pierced the night air, growing louder and louder until it seemed as if the entire woods seem to take up the cry.
~*~*~End Dream~*~*~
Thranduil sat up in his bed with a shout, the silk shirt clinging to his back, wet with sweat. His breath came out in short pants. The woman's scream still echoed in his ears. The golden locks that were usually pinned up carefully with silver clasps hung messily around his broad shoulders. "No....." he gasped. "No, she's dead. She is dead," he told himself firmly trying to reassure himself.
Behind him, Luthien woke up and slid her arms around the King. She buried her head within his unruly mane and nuzzled him gently. Thranduil looked around and wrapped his wife up in a tight embrace. Gently, she stroked his golden hair, her slim fingers untangled the many knots. "It was her," murmured Thranduil in a raspy voice. "I saw her again."
He didn't need to say who 'her' was. They both knew well about Artamir who supposedly died in a fire. "But she's dead," Luthien's beautiful voice swirled through the chamber. "The past still hurts but you had no choice. For the good of the people."
"Yes," Thranduil said dully. "For the good of Mirkwood." Heaving a sigh, he slowly climbed out of bed, to get ready for another day.
~*~*~With Legolas~*~*~
"Speak," commanded the older Elf with the sword pointed at the pale column of throat. His stormy blue eyes sparkled with life from the skirmish that he had won with help from his friend. His captive was beautiful with green eyes that now glared at him. She looked so helpless but he knew that she was skilled underneath.
The dark-haired Elf struggled furtively against her bonds but the arrows were buried deep within the tree. The rough bark scrapped her injured back and she felt her blood run down her back again. The cold steel pressed against her neck so she was forced to talk. "What?"
"What is your business here in Mirkwood. This is forbidden to all except the royal family and guests." Hithiel switched her gaze to the Prince. His musical voice was soothing but powerful. Much like himself. Although looking delicate and beautiful in the exterior, it hid his inner strength and power.
"My business is my own. Now unhand me," she said in a clear voice not trusting the Elves at all. Her mother had taught her that all males are worthless and not to be trusted with anything. Artamir had trusted one once but she came out barely alive.
The broader one chuckled. "What's so funny?" demanded the She-Elf still trying to get free. The fire creeping along her back was growing and the bark wasn't helping at all. She bit back the pain, refusing to show any weakness to the strangers.
"You are in no position to be demanding things from the Great Prince of Mirkwood," he said smirking and at that moment, Hithiel wanted to punch the lights out of this arrogant Elf. "You are a mere child compare to him yet you are ordering him around."
Hithiel seethed with anger and she tried to wretch herself away from the tree. Unfortunately, it caused her to rip open the wounds on her back. The motions of the fight and attempted escape caused the scars to open and bleed afresh. An unwanted grunt of pain escaped the dark-haired Elf as her knees bucked under the pain.
Both male Elves turned in surprise at this until they saw the red blood staining the back of her forest green tunic. The Prince made to touch the injury but was stopped by a snarl from Hithiel. "Don't touch me!"
"Lady, I only wish to help," he said gently. Legolas had a gentle heart and could not bear to watch her suffer. He was confused when the Elf recoiled away from him frantically as if he had something that was contagious.
"Get away from!" she cried shrilly backing up against the tree. Legolas now saw that the tree was also tinted red with her blood.
"You need help. You are bleeding badly," he said patiently trying to talk some sense into the apparently crazy She-Elf.
Hithiel's emerald green eyes were now clouded with pain. It felt as if there was a white-hot sword branding her back. She was in agony except she tried her best to hide it. It didn't help at all that her hands were still caught on the tree. A cry of pain escaped her lips as another wave of pain washed over her back.
The other Elf now approached her and tried to help support her. She flinched away from his touch earning a very hurt or confused expression from him. Her legs would not support her any longer and she crumpled to the mossy ground. Her back scraped against the rough bark shooting a spasm along her back. And she knew no more as she fell unconscious into the waiting arms of the Prince.
The older Elf pulled the arrows out of the tree, freeing the She-Elf. "Let's get her inside," said Legolas seeing the intensity of her wounds.
The Elf nodded and helped his friend along through the twisting maze towards the Mirkwood palace where Thranduil was.
Sorry for the shortness! I couldn't find another good place to stop! Now you can make me VERY happy by pressing the lil purple button down there and reviewing! Thanx!