*Disclaimer* I don't OWN LotR. I'm merely BORROWING it.
A/N: Chapter 20! Wow, I feel very...special. And empowered! Read on!
Chapter 20-And Here's the Storm
The first thing she sensed, upon awakening, was hurry. Everyone around her was hurrying. Narle was the first person she saw, but the girl was soon shoved out of the way by Tracie, who was wearing a green tunic over a chainmail shirt, archer's arm guards, brown breeches, and a braided leather belt from which hung her knife, her belt pouch, and small locket that held a lock of hair from the great lady herself, Galadriel. A quiver of arrows was slung over her back, and her bow was lying, unstrung, on a table.
"Rose! Rose, thank the Valar you're all right! I can't believe it. The Riders are attacking! They're in the Glade!" She sat upright, wincing from the pain.
"What? They're in Wanderer's Glade?!" Tracie nodded, tears in her eyes.
"Everyone's in Awaren's home, we are now. They're only on the borders, but they'll come closer unless our archers can do something about it. I'm so afraid, Rose, I've never been so afraid in my life."
"Dam, Meira, Ellie. What about them?"
"They're fine, all of them." She relaxed slightly.
"Okay. That's something good. Anybody else injured?" Tracie shook her head.
"No. So far, you're the only casualty. Their bows don't have much range on them." She frowned. Something was niggling at her mind, something important. Bows...arrows...something important. She looked out the window, drawing her knees under her chin, no matter how much her stomach protested. The Riders were clustered on an open space in her vantage point, losing arrows in the water. Then, she had it. Arrows. Water. Black steel. She looked to see if she was wearing the same clothes she came in. She wasn't.
"Where's my belt pounch? I need my belt pouch!" Tracie, looking puzzled, handed her the small leather pouch. She rummaged around until she found the arrow head Awaren had extracted from her arm. Tracie's puzzlement grew.
"What could you possibly want with that?"
"No time. Give me one of your arrows, now!" Slowly, Tracie pulled out a feather flighted arrow, one of her best. "Perfect," she said, checking how straight it was. Then, she snapped the arrowhead off.
"Hey! What did you do that for, anyway?" She didn't pay any attention to her friend's misgivings, but took a bow-string from her pouch and started tying the arrow on to the shaft. Tracie was still mourning the loss of the arrow. "That was a really good arrow head, sharp as anything! Who gave you permission to snap it like a twig?"
"Hush! Are they still shooting arrows in the water?" Tracie didn't even have to look out the window to answer that one.
"Yes. They should just give it up; only a few of their bows could hope to make this range." Rosellyn smiled grimly.
"Excellent. Are they all in that open area?"
"No. Some of them are hiding in or behind the houses, the officers and such."
"The Warlord?"
"No sign of him. We think he's still in the forest."
"Figures. Did Awaren leave any medicine for me?" Narle took over at this point, administering potions and rebandaging the wound. The second she was done, Rosellyn swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up.
"Are you sure this is..."
"Wise? Perhaps not. But younger Elven are not renowned for their wisdom. Where's Legolas?" Tracie looked helplessly confused.
"I thought you were..."
"Where is he?!" Something in her voice made her friend back off.
"Out with the archers," said Tracie, thoroughly cowed. Rosellyn made her way to the door without any trouble, blessing Linka and her medicinal skills. She made her way out to a platform where archers clustered like hidden grapes, keeping a healthy rain of arrows going at the Men on the opposite shore. She picked her way along, crouching so as to keep out of sight. She finally found Legolas, checking the tension on his bow-string.
"Hey, Greenleaf, can I borrow you for a minute?" He didn't look up from his work, keeping his eyes downcast and his voice deadly soft, his words sounding like he had carefully chosen every word he spoke.
"What use would you have of a close-minded Elf, mistress Stillwater?" She felt hurt, wondering if that was called for.
"All right, I'm sorry I called you names. But this is strictly business, master Greenleaf, and it would be the best for all of us if we put personal matters aside and dealt with the threat at hand." A slight smile tugged on his lips.
"Lead on." She pulled him to the back, not wanting to risk the black steel's effect too early. They sat down in the doorway.
"What range do you have on that bow?" she asked, gesturing to the weapon he was cradling protectively in his lap.
"Maybe...four hundred yards. It's not the best, you know."
"It'll do. They fire fast?"
"Fast as they come."
"Perfect. I need you to do me a little favor..." She showed him her black steel arrow. "Shoot this. Don't shoot to kill, just get it in the ground as far into that group as you can make it go." Slightly confused, he nevertheless obeyed, notching it to his string.
"As far in as it can go, you say?"
"As far in as it can go," she affirmed. He nodded and stood up in plain view, stretching the bow to its limit. Then he let it fly.
All action stopped as they watched the lake waters rise, just as she knew they would, by the attraction of the black steel. The arrow did not, as she had feared might happen, get caught by the rising water. It buried itself in the ground right in the middle of the army. A humongous tidal wave crashed over the Men. Legolas stood, transfixed, still holding the bow in a released position.
"You know, I forgot it did that," he said weakly. All activity had reached a lull, everyone staring at her. Well, all the Elves were. The Men were torn between staring at Legolas and inspecting or robbing their fallen men-at-arms.
"Hopefully, it might take the wind out of their sails for awhile. I only wish we had more. Well, I mean, I'm not hoping they shoot me more, but I wish we had more arrows like that. Are they still shooting black steel arrows?" Legolas still wasn't answering, so a nearby Elf obliged.
"Not that we can tell. Only one or two have actually made it this far, mistress, and they are made of your ordinary steel." She nodded acknowledgement.
"Thank you. Legolas, stop staring, or you'll be catching flies in a moment." His mouth snapped shut abruptly, and he seemed to come back to himself.
"I wish you'd warn me before you pull a stunt like that," he said softly.
"Sorry, but you would have gone on and on, and held it up even more. No, don't bother defending yourself, you know that's true." For the second time in as many seconds, his mouth snapped shut.
"I wish you didn't know me so well." ~Wish I knew you better~muttered Della. She had a risqué streak sometimes that surprised Rosellyn.
"I believe that's what I always say. But if I didn't know you so well, life wouldn't be so much fun." Legolas's face fell, as if he suddenly remembered that he was mad at her.
"Maybe war might be fun to you. Play your games, mistress Stillwater. I have business to attend to right now." Her euphoria ebbed suddenly, and her mood hit an all time low. That rebuttal sent her into a rut.
"Oh," she said softly. "I'm sorry to disturb you, then, master Greenleaf." He looked up suddenly, as if to say something, but then he just looked down again. She nodded and strode off, hurt, confused, and tormented in the thought that she probably deserved everything he was giving to her.
A/N: Chapter 20! Wow, I feel very...special. And empowered! Read on!
Chapter 20-And Here's the Storm
The first thing she sensed, upon awakening, was hurry. Everyone around her was hurrying. Narle was the first person she saw, but the girl was soon shoved out of the way by Tracie, who was wearing a green tunic over a chainmail shirt, archer's arm guards, brown breeches, and a braided leather belt from which hung her knife, her belt pouch, and small locket that held a lock of hair from the great lady herself, Galadriel. A quiver of arrows was slung over her back, and her bow was lying, unstrung, on a table.
"Rose! Rose, thank the Valar you're all right! I can't believe it. The Riders are attacking! They're in the Glade!" She sat upright, wincing from the pain.
"What? They're in Wanderer's Glade?!" Tracie nodded, tears in her eyes.
"Everyone's in Awaren's home, we are now. They're only on the borders, but they'll come closer unless our archers can do something about it. I'm so afraid, Rose, I've never been so afraid in my life."
"Dam, Meira, Ellie. What about them?"
"They're fine, all of them." She relaxed slightly.
"Okay. That's something good. Anybody else injured?" Tracie shook her head.
"No. So far, you're the only casualty. Their bows don't have much range on them." She frowned. Something was niggling at her mind, something important. Bows...arrows...something important. She looked out the window, drawing her knees under her chin, no matter how much her stomach protested. The Riders were clustered on an open space in her vantage point, losing arrows in the water. Then, she had it. Arrows. Water. Black steel. She looked to see if she was wearing the same clothes she came in. She wasn't.
"Where's my belt pounch? I need my belt pouch!" Tracie, looking puzzled, handed her the small leather pouch. She rummaged around until she found the arrow head Awaren had extracted from her arm. Tracie's puzzlement grew.
"What could you possibly want with that?"
"No time. Give me one of your arrows, now!" Slowly, Tracie pulled out a feather flighted arrow, one of her best. "Perfect," she said, checking how straight it was. Then, she snapped the arrowhead off.
"Hey! What did you do that for, anyway?" She didn't pay any attention to her friend's misgivings, but took a bow-string from her pouch and started tying the arrow on to the shaft. Tracie was still mourning the loss of the arrow. "That was a really good arrow head, sharp as anything! Who gave you permission to snap it like a twig?"
"Hush! Are they still shooting arrows in the water?" Tracie didn't even have to look out the window to answer that one.
"Yes. They should just give it up; only a few of their bows could hope to make this range." Rosellyn smiled grimly.
"Excellent. Are they all in that open area?"
"No. Some of them are hiding in or behind the houses, the officers and such."
"The Warlord?"
"No sign of him. We think he's still in the forest."
"Figures. Did Awaren leave any medicine for me?" Narle took over at this point, administering potions and rebandaging the wound. The second she was done, Rosellyn swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up.
"Are you sure this is..."
"Wise? Perhaps not. But younger Elven are not renowned for their wisdom. Where's Legolas?" Tracie looked helplessly confused.
"I thought you were..."
"Where is he?!" Something in her voice made her friend back off.
"Out with the archers," said Tracie, thoroughly cowed. Rosellyn made her way to the door without any trouble, blessing Linka and her medicinal skills. She made her way out to a platform where archers clustered like hidden grapes, keeping a healthy rain of arrows going at the Men on the opposite shore. She picked her way along, crouching so as to keep out of sight. She finally found Legolas, checking the tension on his bow-string.
"Hey, Greenleaf, can I borrow you for a minute?" He didn't look up from his work, keeping his eyes downcast and his voice deadly soft, his words sounding like he had carefully chosen every word he spoke.
"What use would you have of a close-minded Elf, mistress Stillwater?" She felt hurt, wondering if that was called for.
"All right, I'm sorry I called you names. But this is strictly business, master Greenleaf, and it would be the best for all of us if we put personal matters aside and dealt with the threat at hand." A slight smile tugged on his lips.
"Lead on." She pulled him to the back, not wanting to risk the black steel's effect too early. They sat down in the doorway.
"What range do you have on that bow?" she asked, gesturing to the weapon he was cradling protectively in his lap.
"Maybe...four hundred yards. It's not the best, you know."
"It'll do. They fire fast?"
"Fast as they come."
"Perfect. I need you to do me a little favor..." She showed him her black steel arrow. "Shoot this. Don't shoot to kill, just get it in the ground as far into that group as you can make it go." Slightly confused, he nevertheless obeyed, notching it to his string.
"As far in as it can go, you say?"
"As far in as it can go," she affirmed. He nodded and stood up in plain view, stretching the bow to its limit. Then he let it fly.
All action stopped as they watched the lake waters rise, just as she knew they would, by the attraction of the black steel. The arrow did not, as she had feared might happen, get caught by the rising water. It buried itself in the ground right in the middle of the army. A humongous tidal wave crashed over the Men. Legolas stood, transfixed, still holding the bow in a released position.
"You know, I forgot it did that," he said weakly. All activity had reached a lull, everyone staring at her. Well, all the Elves were. The Men were torn between staring at Legolas and inspecting or robbing their fallen men-at-arms.
"Hopefully, it might take the wind out of their sails for awhile. I only wish we had more. Well, I mean, I'm not hoping they shoot me more, but I wish we had more arrows like that. Are they still shooting black steel arrows?" Legolas still wasn't answering, so a nearby Elf obliged.
"Not that we can tell. Only one or two have actually made it this far, mistress, and they are made of your ordinary steel." She nodded acknowledgement.
"Thank you. Legolas, stop staring, or you'll be catching flies in a moment." His mouth snapped shut abruptly, and he seemed to come back to himself.
"I wish you'd warn me before you pull a stunt like that," he said softly.
"Sorry, but you would have gone on and on, and held it up even more. No, don't bother defending yourself, you know that's true." For the second time in as many seconds, his mouth snapped shut.
"I wish you didn't know me so well." ~Wish I knew you better~muttered Della. She had a risqué streak sometimes that surprised Rosellyn.
"I believe that's what I always say. But if I didn't know you so well, life wouldn't be so much fun." Legolas's face fell, as if he suddenly remembered that he was mad at her.
"Maybe war might be fun to you. Play your games, mistress Stillwater. I have business to attend to right now." Her euphoria ebbed suddenly, and her mood hit an all time low. That rebuttal sent her into a rut.
"Oh," she said softly. "I'm sorry to disturb you, then, master Greenleaf." He looked up suddenly, as if to say something, but then he just looked down again. She nodded and strode off, hurt, confused, and tormented in the thought that she probably deserved everything he was giving to her.