Lady Fae: It won't be her confronting the Fellowship, more like the other way around.
Salem: I won't actually reveal who it will be until Angel meets him. But so far, you know that it's not Legolas or Haldir. Yes, that's a lot of help, I know. I have been wanting to introduce Chris for a long time now, but I started this story before the episode came out where they revealed that Chris was Wyatt's brother, and now I can't find a convenient place to introduce him without it seeming really awkward to all of a sudden introduce a new character who also happens to be Wyatt's brother. I may end up revising the whole story and including Chris in one of the earlier chapters, but we'll just have to see.
Jen: Her and Haldir would be cute, but the age difference would be staggering as well. Yes, even though I drool after Legolas too, reading Legomances is starting to get dull and boring for me. Thanks a million for the encouragement!
ElvenWitch13: Well, do you know what my penname means? Actually, my full penname is Gilluin Lomindae, but I only use the first part. Thank you v. much for the review and tell Audrey I said hi.
Nikki: The brand new episodes are awesome! All I will tell you about the romance is that it will be someone from ME. No more questions, b/c I can be notoriously tight-lipped about these things.
Alandra: OMG, that is creepy. And you know what else? I seriously considered giving my OC Alandra curly hair! Aw. . . I don't get to watch the marathon cuz my orchestra went to State on the 28th. In any case, I don't think I have the channel anywayz. Chances are good that the romance will be another OC or someone that Tolkien mentioned as a background character but never really developed.
Cindy: Thank you very much for the review. I value your opinion!
Mia: I'm guessing you'll be happy that this entire chapter centers on Angel in ME. I didn't do much of scenes from ME in the last few chapters cuz nothing was really happening there, so why write about it? But now that she's back, plenty will happen. hint hint Thanks for reading!
Soccer-Bitch: Thanks for the review as always. You're one of my best readers!
Mellon123: hey Whitney. Glad to see that you're back and reading. Well, I'll see if I can IM you l8r.
Ch. 13
Warnings to Tempt Fate
Haldir left Angel alone to return to his shift after escorting her back to the heart of the Elven city. The search party had been called off, and any moment now, the Fellowship would come and gun her down with questions. Angel winced inwardly and wished that she hadn't taken the healing drink for her throat that one of the Lady Galadriel's handmaidens had given her. She put a hand to her throat and was disappointed to find that it felt as if she had nothing more than a slight sore throat, which definitely didn't qualify her to play mute in order to avoid any questions anyone directed at her.
The minor burns and cuts on her arms were bandaged as well, to prevent infection and the sleeves of her pullover were rolled up to lessen irritation of cloth rubbing against cloth. Her hands were wrapped in up with two strips of clean white linen each to stem the bleeding on her palms, making it look as though she was wearing a pair of white gauntlets. She felt oddly tired as well, as though her energy had been drained. Her movements were slow and sluggish and it seemed to take tremendous willpower to move at all. The bag was still slung over her shoulder, though smeared with ash and stained with damp soot.
Angel sank down to rest in a far corner of the talan, propping her head up with one bandaged arm. She tried to remain inconspicuous and not to attract attention, but nothing seemed to escape the keen eyes of the few Elves in the talan, but they chose to ignore her, much to the girl's relief. Two passing Elves cast her curious looks, which she tried to ignore.
As she sat contemplating her current situation, she heard the unmistakable voices of Merry, Pippin, and Sam and froze. They were still a fair distance away, and hadn't seen her yet. Angel looked around quickly in search of a way to slink out unnoticed, but then realized that movement might attract attention, and so she pressed herself against the wall in hope that they might overlook her and walk past. She had no such luck, however, for Pippin stared straight in her direction, and with a huge wave and shout, rushed over, closely followed by the other two.
"Hullo Angel," said Pippin with a broad grin as he came to a stop before her. "It is good to see you back. Aragorn and the others have been most upset by your disappearance."
"They just got word that you have arrived," added Merry. "and I suppose that they will be here to see you quite soon."
Angel's heart sank at his statement, but knew that she would have to face the others eventually. "Are they. . .angry?" she asked quietly. Her throat tickled as the words came out, and they were still slightly raspy, but it was clear that speaking was not a problem.
"Angry? They are worried, and would surely want an explanation, certainly, but I do not think they would be angry with you. Do not worry; Strider will understand." Sam placed a reassuring hand on her arm but redrew it quickly at the touch of the bandages. "Oh! How did you come by these?"
She lowered her gaze and replied, "An accident."
The hobbits accepted her vague answer and waited for her to go on, but her attention was now on Aragorn, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, and Frodo who were heading in their direction. She tugged her sleeves down behind her back to cover the bandages on her arms just as they came to a stop before the hobbits and her. Aragorn's face was hard and stern, though the relief was evident on his face as well.
"Where have you been?" he asked sharply, and the harsh tone in his voice made it clear that he was not happy with her.
"Uh. . ."
"Have you no thought of the worry you have inflicted upon us?" His keen grey eyes fixed her firmly under his gaze.
Angel braced herself for a long lecture on going off on her own without telling anyone and worrying everyone out of their minds. If only they could have known the nature of her departure, the urgency of it.
Aragorn sighed tiredly at the young woman quailing before him. "No reason do I see for you to run off so. What was it that caused you to act how you did?"
Here it was. . . the inevitable question. Angel bit her lip and shook her head. "I'm sorry Aragorn. . . I can't explain."
Aragorn's brow furrowed at her reply. "And why not? It is to my understanding that you left with one who claimed to be your sister, who asked for a word with you. Where did you go thence?" When she offered no answer, he asked the question again, more persistently this time, but she kept her gaze down and shook her head again.
Gimli took up the interrogation. "Of what urgency could it have been that caused you to steal away without a word? Surely you must have some reason for this."
The witch could feel the red creeping up her cheeks as she continued to avoid their questions stubbornly. Oh God. . .how she wanted to disappear then and there and never be seen again. She kept her head bowed passively as the questions continued, piling up on top of one another, driving, insistent, prying. . .trying to force her open, trying to pull all her secrets spill out. She could feel the frustration of the others at her avoidance of their questions, as well as the hobbits retreating silently from the awkward scene. Finally, she was no longer able to contain her rising fear and anger and she snapped.
"Stop it!" she screamed, though her still tender throat cried out in protest at the strain. They fell silent. "Stop asking me questions. I can't tell you, so stop asking!" She noticed several elves looking in her direction curiously, but she ignored them. She didn't even realize that she was running from them until she nearly collided with a passing elf. Angel didn't even utter an apology and she pressed on, keeping her head down to avoid eye contact with any bystanders.
She left the talan and retreated into the woods in search of sanctuary to escape to, somewhere to hide from all the doubt, mistrust, and misgivings aimed at her. The faith between her and the rest of the Fellowship was shattered. They would never trust her now, knowing that she kept things from them, unless she revealed to them who and what she really was, which was unthinkable. They were suspicious, and had the right to be so, given all that she could not explain.
Eventually, Angel came to a lone clearing and sat down at the fountain at its center. She brought her legs up onto the sill of the fountain and drew them in towards her, wrapping her bandaged hands around them. She picked idly at the white linen, tinged red in some areas, as she rested her chin on her knees. That was another thing she would be unable to explain: the cuts and burns from her fight with Belthazor. She shrugged. It would hardly make a difference now.
She stayed there for a long time, until the sun scattered the remaining grey clouds and shone high above the treetops. Her stomach growled, but she paid no heed to it. It was midday, and she had eaten nothing since breakfast back in San Francisco, but she was not ready to go back for food and face the others just yet.
She was deep in thought, thinking of Belthazor and the threat he posed to her and the Fellowship. How would she defend them if – no, when – the time came? Was she strong enough to fend off someone as powerful as Belthazor? Not for the first time since she had come on this mission, Angel wondered why she had been chosen for this job.
Kendall would be better suited for this, maybe Adrian too. Kendall had the discipline and fair reasoning, as well as the intuition and keen instincts. Adrian had the sheer guts to execute plans and solid courage to see everything through to the end. Even Wyatt, despite how he did not tend to take things too seriously and his relaxed style of handling situations would have been a better candidate for this task. He was the most experienced of them all in magic, and by far the most powerful.
She laid her head down into her knees and closed her eyes. She thought of her siblings and Wyatt and wondered what they were doing at that very moment. Kendall and Adrian were probably on their way back to New York already, or maybe they were fighting another demon. Either way, Angel hoped that they were safe, and that seemed almost too much to count on in times like these.
Angel started when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She lifted her head and found herself staring into the handsome face of Boromir, his features lined with concern.
"May I keep you company, my lady?" he asked respectfully.
Angel smiled tiredly. "There's no need to call me 'lady'."
Boromir lowered himself beside her and Angel turned to face him. "But are you not?"
"Hardly," was her amused reply.
Boromir watched her for a while before stating, "We would like to have you back for the midday meal."
Angel shrugged. "I think I need time. . . on my own for a while."
The Man of Gondor nodded as if he understood. "May I beg your pardon, but where did you go with the lady Kendall?" he asked, not forcefully, should she feel compelled to answer to his question.
The witch couldn't help but smile at his question. Though she was not the best at interpreting intentions, it was obvious what the ulterior motive to his question was. He wanted to know where Kendall was. "Kendall wishes you best of fortune on this quest."
Boromir had trouble hiding his pleasure at the statement and he smiled broadly, waiting for Angel to go on.
A slight frown flitted across her face as she said, "Kendall is home. She won't be back for a long time."
There was nothing to disguise the eagerness in Boromir's voice as he said, "Should chance favor me, perhaps I could visit her in her homeland, when all this is over."
Poor Boromir. How was he to know that he wouldn't live to get the chance? Even as she thought this, an idea entered Angel's mind. She couldn't save Boromir's life, of course, but suppose warning him would be enough. Why not? She wouldn't interfere with fate, not directly anyway. He deserved a chance, and Kendall deserved love. Angel shifted to face Boromir in the eyes. She put on a serious face and held his gaze steady to assert that he should listen. "Boromir. . ."
He seemed taken aback by her sudden chance of mood, but said nothing.
"Kendall wants you to be careful on this mission. I do too." Angel hesitated as she reconsidered what she was doing, but she decided to carry on. "Watch your back, don't let anything happen to you. Be wary of orcs and their arrows – " Angel stopped herself before she got too specific. "and hold back from temptations – no matter how enticing they may seem." She held his eyes for a moment longer, then released them, wondering if she had just made a terrible mistake.
Boromir regarded her curiously, and Angel knew what he must be thinking. Who was she – this girl, barely even a woman yet – to give a great Lord of Gondor advice and warnings? But he accepted it with no more than a smile, and Angel wondered if he believed a word she had said.
He stood up slowly, and when he spoke it was not of what she had just said. "Are you sure you would not like to come back with me to eat?"
Angel shook her head firmly, caught halfway in between disappointment that he did not take her seriously and relief that he did not pursue the topic. "No, you go on ahead."
"Then be sure to return by nightfall, Angel," he said, dutifully omitting the title of 'lady.'
"I will," she assured him as she watched him turn and disappear into the trees, leaving her alone with her thoughts. What had she done? Should she really have warned him? Kendall often told her that she didn't think before she acted, was this another time when it was so? Angel groaned and buried her head in her arms. Then she thought of all the great things Boromir had done. He had done great deeds in the wars along the East-borders, she had been told once, and was both a warrior born and respected for his courage and valor. The latter of the two she had seen for herself. Did succumbing to such a powerful evil as the Ring outweigh all that? Her heart told her no, but fate spoke otherwise.
"She is not to be trusted, Aragorn."
"I know this, Haldir. Angelyn keeps things from us, shielding some secret for reasons I know not."
"There is no place in the Quest for a girl who hides a secret that may affect you all." The elf watched Aragorn with cool blue eyes. "It would be better for all if she is left behind when your time calls upon you to leave Lórien."
"It was Gandalf's wish to see her in this Company," said Aragorn simply. "He would not have done so with no reason. Perhaps he knew of the secret she keeps."
"The Fellowship was set for Nine Walkers against the Nine Riders. Unless there is another in addition to the Nine Nazgûl, her presence tilts the balance. And of what use is she to you?" asked Haldir sharply, a frown creasing his brow. "She is naught but a follower, and would slow you down, which is not to be taken lightly when the Quest is one of haste. Surely there is no reason to bring her on so arduous a mission."
"Perhaps this is so, but I believe otherwise." Aragorn faltered here, and continued hesitantly, "She can take care of herself, in ways I am unable to explain. Her skill in weaponry is doubtful, but she has defended herself adequately, how, I know not." He shook his head. "The choice was Gandalf's, and in his reason I place my trust."
"There is a fine line between trust and foolishness, Heir of Isildur," cautioned Haldir gravely. "Do not cross over it."
"Your advice will not go unheeded," replied Aragorn. "Yet I chose to allow the girl to stay with us. If my decision proves misguided, we will leave her in Edoras should we choose to join Boromir in the war in Minas Tirith."
Haldir smiled wryly at his answer. "And if you do not make for the White City?"
"We will deal with it then."
When the sun shone dusky red against the horizon, Angel had already gone back to the talan where the rest of the Fellowship resided. Legolas and Gimli were away with the other elves as they often were these days, and only the hobbits and Boromir were there. Boromir lifted his eyes to her and said a greeting, and she responded with a feigned smile. The hobbits came up to her and launched into a light conversation almost right away, in the manner of hobbits.
Angel set her bag down and watched them, listening most of the time and feeling her mood lift somewhat at their seemingly unquenchable cheerfulness. At one point Boromir came over and joined in, but Angel took no notice. By then, she wasn't really paying attention to what was being said, and had retreated back within herself.
When Aragorn returned, they went down to dinner with the elves. Angel sampled two dishes, but her mind was elsewhere. She left early to avoid too much contact with the rest of the Fellowship and climbed back up the talan. It was empty; everyone else was at dinner. She drew her pack toward her and emptied its contents out before her. Nothing was damaged from her encounter with Belthazor, but an unfamiliar wrapped object caught her eye.
She took it out and laid it down in front of her. The object was long and slender, tightly wrapped in white cloth and fastened by string. Tentatively, she started to unwrap it. She untied the string and unraveled the fabric slowly. It was not an easy task because the bandages on her hands were tight and restricted free movement, but she was able to remove the cloth without too much difficulty. There was a note wrapped in with the object, but Angel chose to examine it later.
It was a steel knife, double-edged but blunt, with a handle bound in worn black leather. The blade was obviously old, for the metal was scratched and pitted. There were grey tarnishes on its surface, and the dullness of the edges made it almost useless as a weapon. Angel wondered who had put it in her bag and why. Then she turned her attention to the small piece of paper she had ignored earlier.
Kendall's neat, clear handwriting was easily recognized, and the note read:
Hello Angel. This is an athame, and as you know, it is a ceremonial tool used to direct energy. Though this may not do you much good as a weapon, you might find it useful in learning to control your new powers. Hold it out in your palms, the tip pointing outwards, and channel through the blade and out the point. I hope this helps you and good luck!
-Kendall
Angel folded the note and tucked it safely in her pocket. She picked up the athame gingerly and held it lightly in her fingers to examine it more closely. Cautiously, she placed the edge against her forefinger and tested its sharpness. The skin did not break, and so she held it out in her palms as Kendall had instructed, with the point facing away from her. She did not intend to channel; and with the harsh memory of what had taken place in her fight with Belthazor, she wondered if she dared try when the time came that she needed to.
She had never been as skilled in magic as her siblings. She had only come into her powers when she was nearly seven, which was considered abnormally late, especially for a witch of the Halliwell line.
Hopefully, this knife would prove the answer to her power outrage problems. Mentally, Angel thanked Kendall for it, hoping that wherever she was, Kendall would be able to take care of herself.
Across vast expanses of time and space, beneath a starless night sky, the demon Belthazor lay in agony, shrieking oaths to the indifferent black heavens. He was sprawled out on his front across a thin blanket draped over a stone floor, his arms propped up before him and his head bowed. He was in the vast caverns of the Underworld, with the small fire beside him the only source of light in the unnaturally black hours of darkness. A cloth soaked in warm water brushed his back, and his body arched in anguish. It prompted a fresh bout of curses, until the demon tending him snapped over his cries, "Shut up! You're distracting me!"
Belthazor cut back the rest of the expletive language and looked over his shoulder at his back. It was not a pretty sight. Much of the skin was burnt off, and flesh was clearly visible beneath it, burnt black in some areas and raw red in others, still dribbling dark blood. He reeked of burnt flesh and the rusty scent of blood.
The demon cleaning his wounds was called the Oracle, a demon who possessed powers of seeing into the future. She had a dark olive tone to her skin, and dark of hair and eyes. The task was not one she had wanted, as could be observed by the disgusted and impatient expression on her face. But she knew better than to defy the orders of the Source.
To say the least, the Source was not happy with Belthazor and his efforts to vanquish the Charmed Ones. In his eyes, Belthazor had let too many opportunities slip, and now the chances of destroying the Halliwells were slimmer than ever. Under any other conditions, the Source would have dispatched Belthazor for his failure, but he knew just as well as Belthazor did that he was the best demon for the job.
Belthazor sneered. He did not hunt the Charmed Ones only because the Source had charged him this duty. No, he did so for revenge – revenge for what Phoebe Halliwell had forced him to suffer through.
The Oracle tossed aside the bloodied rags and reached for a bottle of healing salve. Her lip curled in contempt at the degrading work as she spread the creamy balm over his torn flesh, ignoring Belthazor's low growls and swears. He jerked away from her hand and she scowled, face twisting into a nasty glower.
"This would be much easier and swifter if you would stop moving so much!" grated the Oracle edgily.
"Then perhaps I should do to you what the witch did to me, so that you may know how this feels?" snarled Belthazor in a dangerous undertone. The Oracle blanched and hastily resumed her task. He tried to block out the white-hot flames licking at his back as he endured the Oracle binding his wound tightly with clean white linen. He restrained himself as well as he could from bucking, though he vented out his pain through more curses. When the Oracle was finished, she gathered her medicine supplies and he dismissed her.
'I hunt you still, witch. Do not think that I have forgotten. You will pay your mother's price for what she did to me.' Belthazor smiled to himself. Vengeance! It was a sweet word.
For those of you who don't understand why Belthazor wants revenge, it was part of the original Charmed Ones' history, and I will make this clearer in later chapters.
I read my entire story over last night. . . and I am mortified at how badly written the beginning chapters were. I can see why so many people quit reading at the first chapter, and I apologize to those of you who had to suffer through it all. I found that I have some plot holes that desperately need to be filled in, need to tone down the MS-ness, cut out some corny scenes, and basically revise and edit a couple of times. The good thing is that I got to see the progress I made in my writing, and I think I've gotten better over the past few months. So, as I continue posting new chapters, I will also be revising the others.