*Disclaimer* See other chapters, because I'm not wasting any more strength saying this.
A/N: Again, yay for all you lovely reviewers! And Animouse, thanks for that sight. Unfortunately, I'm almost finished with this story. But if I find I'm adding extra characters, I'll be sure to use that! Read on, my faithful readers!
Chapter 10- A Man in Mirkwood
The Riders were getting more and more dangerous. Rosellyn couldn't figure out why she thought that. They hadn't attacked, or even sent out scouting parties since the Battle of the Flet Steps, as it was being called. Yet something was growing in her mind, a threat that could only be emanating from the Riders. But they seemed to be lying dormant for the time being. Then it came to her. -Della! You've been trying to warn me, haven't you?- Her friend sounded distant, confused. ~Have I? I don't know. I've been feeling strange lately, and I guess I just transmitted it on to you. I don't like how quiet the Riders have been. They should be sniping at us, trying to gauge our strength. But they haven't been. They've been silent, like they're trying to lull us into a false sense of security...~ Rosellyn thought about that, with a growing sense of unease. If the Riders had gauged their strength, they would either gather reinforcements or wait them out. If battle was coming... She shuddered. She was a trained fighting Elf, but that didn't mean she liked it. Instinctively, her feet carried her towards the ferry that took her to Awaren and Linka's palace. At the door, she met the last person she expected to see: a Man. He smiled at her, and he apparently wasn't a Rider, so she smiled back.
"Hello, miss. Come to see Linka and Awaren, I take it?" She nodded politely.
"Yes, I am. Forgive my bluntness: why are you here?" He smiled and laughed at that, like it was some sort of joke.
"I am recovering from...an illness. You Elves work wonders here." She understood. He had been suffering from a mental problem. "Oh, I'm sorry. My name is Benvenue Haltier, from the country of Gondor. You are?"
"Rosellyn Stillwater, sir. It's nice to meet you. How long have you been here?" she asked curiously. She hadn't heard that there was a new patient. However, if the problem had been serious, it wouldn't have been spread around.
"Oh, I've been in my rooms for a month or so. Miss Humanblood only now considers me fit to be around others. Ah well, if that's what it takes...I've never felt so healthy as I have in Mirkwood and Rivendell..." She was suddenly brimming with a hundred more questions.
"Rivendell? You've been to Rivendell?" He smiled.
"Indeed, I have. I met the illustrious Elrond, and his equally illustrious and beautiful daughter, Arwen. A place of beauty, is Rivendell. Now that I've seen Mirkwood, though, I am torn between the two." They walked around the outside veranda, Rosellyn taken with Benvenue's easy talking skills.
"Have you ever been to Lothlorién?" she asked, overflowing with curiousity. He shared in her excitement, treating her as an intellectual equal.
"No, I'm afraid I've yet to visit the Lady of the Wood. But I hope to once I get out of here."
"I've heard it's absolutely gorgeous there," she sighed, imagining what Lady Galadriel looked like. He nodded absently.
"As have I. I don't suppose you've been to Rivendell?" She shook her head disappointedly.
"No. But I've always wanted to. I don't suppose you could do me a favor when you leave?" He looked at her, curiousity stamped on his features.
"Well, it would be my honor, mistress Elf. What favor could I do for you?" She took a deep breath, feeling extremely self-conscious. She mentally shook herself. There was no need to be stupid.
"If-if you ever go to Lorién, could...could you..." She paused, then continued. "Could you see if their are three Elves in particular there?"
"Well, an odd request. What three Elves in particular?"
"Kellys and Ellywin Stillwater. Or maybe they have a new last name. And...their...father." He looked at her, sympathy flickering in his eyes, but, prudently, didn't pursue the subject. She was grateful, because as nice as he was, she didn't feel like discussing it.
"I promise, if I ever go to Lorién, I will search them out. Is there a message that you would like me to pass on?" She fumbled for the right words.
"Maybe, I mean, yes, I mean, I don't know..." What would she say to these figures, who had just been names in her life as far back as she could remember? Then, she took a deep breath and began again. "Yes, there is a message. Tell them that Rosellyn says hello, that I miss them, and that Rellyn is dead, if they don't know already. That's the message." The sympathy grew, but, as before, he didn't continue on the subject.
"By my life and honor as a son of Gondor, if I can carry your message, I will. Thank you for trusting me with this." He bowed slightly. She followed suit.
"No, sir, thank you for carrying the message. Well, I must be going. I have to see either Linka or Awaren."
"Well then, I'd suggest finding Linka. Awaren is...preoccupied." She smiled, even though she'd really wanted to talk to Awaren. Awaren was the war leader, not Linka.
"Thank you, sir. Good day."
"Good day to you as well, miss Stillwater." As soon as he was out of sight, she took off running.
She dodged around the older Elves, running as fast as she could. For some reason, Benvenue had unsettled her, however polite he had been. She could feel something chasing after her, something that wasn't Elven or Man, and she knew no matter how fast she ran, it would always find her. -Della? Any thoughts?- Silence for a moment. Then, ~Not really. It could be that you're just paranoid about Men. Even so, from my experience of Men, if they smile that much all the time, there's something to be concerned about.~ She finally stopped, chest heaving for air, outside Linka's room. Regaining composure, she knocked twice.
"Come in," It was Linka's voice, smooth and mellow. Calming, too. She poked her head inside the door. Linka was combing out her hair, brown with only a few streaks of grey in there, despite the fact that she was well over 9000 years old. "Oh, hello, Rosellyn. Is there a problem?" She put down her brush and gestured for her to come in. "Sit down, we'll talk. It's obvious by your face that this is serious."
"You've no idea," she said, and closed the door behind her. At Linka's prompting, she sat on the bed next to her and began to piece together her suspicions about the Riders. "You see, I've been thinking. About the whole deal with the Riders. See, they've been silent for almost a month now. How many attacks have they thrown at us in this amount of time, usually? Five, or six, I'd say. But now, there's nothing. What they should be doing is throwing small skirmishes, trying to see how well protected we are, what our strength is, and all that. Now they're not, which can mean several things.
"One, that they've given up. That's not right, because our scouts say they're still camping at the edge of the forest. Two, that they know our strength, and they're building up the men and supplies to counteract that. Three, they're trying to make us feel like they've been beaten and are recuperating. That way, we get over confident. That's how I see it. Have you thought about that, am I confirming what you already know?" Linka paced around the room, lips pursed. In the light that poured through the window, she looked old for the first time that she, Rosellyn, could remember. It was just beginning to dawn that 9000 was pretty old, even for an Elf.
"Well," Linka said finally, with a great sigh, "to be honest, I had not thought about that. I might just be getting old and senile, but I sincerely hoped that the Riders would stop the bloodshed."
"No, you're not the only one," protested Rosellyn, "lots of Elves think that. Me, for one. I can fight, and I can kill, but that doesn't mean I want to." Linka faced her squarely, stopping her before she could launch into her idea.
"I know what you are going to say next, Rosellyn.The only problem is, the Riders do not think that way. They do not think about the little children, or the mothers and wives. They only think about our alliance with the dwarves, the pristine lake and forest. They only think of the feather in their caps that conquering Mirkwood would be. They do not think about the young lives they are ruining, the Elflings not long out of childhood that are being robbed of their innocent days and turned into killers. You are mature beyond your years, Rosellyn, but not in the way I would prefer. I do not want the fighting and killing, but they must be repulsed. If that is what it takes, then that is what it takes." Rosellyn grinned in spite of herself.
"Couldn't have said it better myself."
A/N: Linka seems to be taking this very calmly...but are appearances all they seem?
A/N: Again, yay for all you lovely reviewers! And Animouse, thanks for that sight. Unfortunately, I'm almost finished with this story. But if I find I'm adding extra characters, I'll be sure to use that! Read on, my faithful readers!
Chapter 10- A Man in Mirkwood
The Riders were getting more and more dangerous. Rosellyn couldn't figure out why she thought that. They hadn't attacked, or even sent out scouting parties since the Battle of the Flet Steps, as it was being called. Yet something was growing in her mind, a threat that could only be emanating from the Riders. But they seemed to be lying dormant for the time being. Then it came to her. -Della! You've been trying to warn me, haven't you?- Her friend sounded distant, confused. ~Have I? I don't know. I've been feeling strange lately, and I guess I just transmitted it on to you. I don't like how quiet the Riders have been. They should be sniping at us, trying to gauge our strength. But they haven't been. They've been silent, like they're trying to lull us into a false sense of security...~ Rosellyn thought about that, with a growing sense of unease. If the Riders had gauged their strength, they would either gather reinforcements or wait them out. If battle was coming... She shuddered. She was a trained fighting Elf, but that didn't mean she liked it. Instinctively, her feet carried her towards the ferry that took her to Awaren and Linka's palace. At the door, she met the last person she expected to see: a Man. He smiled at her, and he apparently wasn't a Rider, so she smiled back.
"Hello, miss. Come to see Linka and Awaren, I take it?" She nodded politely.
"Yes, I am. Forgive my bluntness: why are you here?" He smiled and laughed at that, like it was some sort of joke.
"I am recovering from...an illness. You Elves work wonders here." She understood. He had been suffering from a mental problem. "Oh, I'm sorry. My name is Benvenue Haltier, from the country of Gondor. You are?"
"Rosellyn Stillwater, sir. It's nice to meet you. How long have you been here?" she asked curiously. She hadn't heard that there was a new patient. However, if the problem had been serious, it wouldn't have been spread around.
"Oh, I've been in my rooms for a month or so. Miss Humanblood only now considers me fit to be around others. Ah well, if that's what it takes...I've never felt so healthy as I have in Mirkwood and Rivendell..." She was suddenly brimming with a hundred more questions.
"Rivendell? You've been to Rivendell?" He smiled.
"Indeed, I have. I met the illustrious Elrond, and his equally illustrious and beautiful daughter, Arwen. A place of beauty, is Rivendell. Now that I've seen Mirkwood, though, I am torn between the two." They walked around the outside veranda, Rosellyn taken with Benvenue's easy talking skills.
"Have you ever been to Lothlorién?" she asked, overflowing with curiousity. He shared in her excitement, treating her as an intellectual equal.
"No, I'm afraid I've yet to visit the Lady of the Wood. But I hope to once I get out of here."
"I've heard it's absolutely gorgeous there," she sighed, imagining what Lady Galadriel looked like. He nodded absently.
"As have I. I don't suppose you've been to Rivendell?" She shook her head disappointedly.
"No. But I've always wanted to. I don't suppose you could do me a favor when you leave?" He looked at her, curiousity stamped on his features.
"Well, it would be my honor, mistress Elf. What favor could I do for you?" She took a deep breath, feeling extremely self-conscious. She mentally shook herself. There was no need to be stupid.
"If-if you ever go to Lorién, could...could you..." She paused, then continued. "Could you see if their are three Elves in particular there?"
"Well, an odd request. What three Elves in particular?"
"Kellys and Ellywin Stillwater. Or maybe they have a new last name. And...their...father." He looked at her, sympathy flickering in his eyes, but, prudently, didn't pursue the subject. She was grateful, because as nice as he was, she didn't feel like discussing it.
"I promise, if I ever go to Lorién, I will search them out. Is there a message that you would like me to pass on?" She fumbled for the right words.
"Maybe, I mean, yes, I mean, I don't know..." What would she say to these figures, who had just been names in her life as far back as she could remember? Then, she took a deep breath and began again. "Yes, there is a message. Tell them that Rosellyn says hello, that I miss them, and that Rellyn is dead, if they don't know already. That's the message." The sympathy grew, but, as before, he didn't continue on the subject.
"By my life and honor as a son of Gondor, if I can carry your message, I will. Thank you for trusting me with this." He bowed slightly. She followed suit.
"No, sir, thank you for carrying the message. Well, I must be going. I have to see either Linka or Awaren."
"Well then, I'd suggest finding Linka. Awaren is...preoccupied." She smiled, even though she'd really wanted to talk to Awaren. Awaren was the war leader, not Linka.
"Thank you, sir. Good day."
"Good day to you as well, miss Stillwater." As soon as he was out of sight, she took off running.
She dodged around the older Elves, running as fast as she could. For some reason, Benvenue had unsettled her, however polite he had been. She could feel something chasing after her, something that wasn't Elven or Man, and she knew no matter how fast she ran, it would always find her. -Della? Any thoughts?- Silence for a moment. Then, ~Not really. It could be that you're just paranoid about Men. Even so, from my experience of Men, if they smile that much all the time, there's something to be concerned about.~ She finally stopped, chest heaving for air, outside Linka's room. Regaining composure, she knocked twice.
"Come in," It was Linka's voice, smooth and mellow. Calming, too. She poked her head inside the door. Linka was combing out her hair, brown with only a few streaks of grey in there, despite the fact that she was well over 9000 years old. "Oh, hello, Rosellyn. Is there a problem?" She put down her brush and gestured for her to come in. "Sit down, we'll talk. It's obvious by your face that this is serious."
"You've no idea," she said, and closed the door behind her. At Linka's prompting, she sat on the bed next to her and began to piece together her suspicions about the Riders. "You see, I've been thinking. About the whole deal with the Riders. See, they've been silent for almost a month now. How many attacks have they thrown at us in this amount of time, usually? Five, or six, I'd say. But now, there's nothing. What they should be doing is throwing small skirmishes, trying to see how well protected we are, what our strength is, and all that. Now they're not, which can mean several things.
"One, that they've given up. That's not right, because our scouts say they're still camping at the edge of the forest. Two, that they know our strength, and they're building up the men and supplies to counteract that. Three, they're trying to make us feel like they've been beaten and are recuperating. That way, we get over confident. That's how I see it. Have you thought about that, am I confirming what you already know?" Linka paced around the room, lips pursed. In the light that poured through the window, she looked old for the first time that she, Rosellyn, could remember. It was just beginning to dawn that 9000 was pretty old, even for an Elf.
"Well," Linka said finally, with a great sigh, "to be honest, I had not thought about that. I might just be getting old and senile, but I sincerely hoped that the Riders would stop the bloodshed."
"No, you're not the only one," protested Rosellyn, "lots of Elves think that. Me, for one. I can fight, and I can kill, but that doesn't mean I want to." Linka faced her squarely, stopping her before she could launch into her idea.
"I know what you are going to say next, Rosellyn.The only problem is, the Riders do not think that way. They do not think about the little children, or the mothers and wives. They only think about our alliance with the dwarves, the pristine lake and forest. They only think of the feather in their caps that conquering Mirkwood would be. They do not think about the young lives they are ruining, the Elflings not long out of childhood that are being robbed of their innocent days and turned into killers. You are mature beyond your years, Rosellyn, but not in the way I would prefer. I do not want the fighting and killing, but they must be repulsed. If that is what it takes, then that is what it takes." Rosellyn grinned in spite of herself.
"Couldn't have said it better myself."
A/N: Linka seems to be taking this very calmly...but are appearances all they seem?