Hey! I finally have a title for my series! It's the Macil a Pilin Series, which means, in Quenyan, Sword and Arrow. It only took me HOW many stories to find one? Lol. Anyway, I wasn't going to update THIS soon, but hey, I've made you guys wait for ages for some of the chapters, so now we're even.
So, I left one question pretty much unanswered, but it will be greatly addressed in the next story.
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Unnoticed by all, one young ranger in the back pulled an arrow from his quiver. He had to be careful. The man was jerking Legolas' around, so aiming would be difficult. He could detect blood running down the man's arm from Legolas' neck.
He put the arrow to its place on his bow, pulled the string taut, and carefully aimed through the heads of those in front of him. He fired.
The man jerked Legolas again, brandishing the bloody knife. The arrow hit its mark, though not the intended one. Legolas cried out in pain. The ranger gasped, reaching for another arrow and firing, faster, this time. The man, shocked by the arrow now protruding from his prisoner's arm, did not think to move.
Legolas was released, but his legs would not hold him. He dropped to the ground while his captor fell behind him, dead, with an arrow embedded in his left eye.
Running forward, pushing his comrades out of the way, the young ranger knelt by the elf's side, opposite of Aragorn. He looked at the other human first, utter fear in his eyes. When he realized that Aragorn knew what had happened and was not angry, he turn his attention to the grimacing elf.
"I am so sorry, you Highness. I am so sorry. . . so sorry. . ."
"It's okay," Legolas whispered. "I understand what you were doing. It was brave of you."
"Please forgive me for this,"
"There is nothing to forgive. I know what you meant to do, and you ultimately did it. I owe you much gratitude, not anger. Be at peace."
"Thank you, your Highness. If there's anything I can do. . ."
Legolas winced. "Taking the arrow out would be nice."
Aragorn leaned forward, gently pushing the younger man out of the way. Holding the elf's arm down with one hand, he gripped the arrow with the other. "Brace yourself, Legolas."
The elf nodded his consent. "I am ready."
Aragorn, with no further warning, quickly pulled the arrow from his friend's arm. Legolas groaned, biting his lip to keep from screaming. The younger ranger was beside himself, nearly crying with hysterics.
All attention finally turned to the battle between Mithfalas and Mar. The rangers yelled, converging on the two, ripping the human away from the elf. Legolas, held by Aragorn, could hear Mar's shrieks and pleas for help. Finally, the forest was quiet. The crowd parted, and Mithfalas made his way to his brother.
"He's dead," he breathed as he sat next to the elf and his friend.
"Are you sure?"
Mithfalas smiled. "Yes. He's really dead this time, I made sure of it, as did the other rangers. What happened to you?"
Legolas looked at the young boy, the bow still tightly held in his hand. He noticed the elf's gaze and dropped his weapon, hands held in an apologetic gesture.
"He shot you?"
Legolas smiled. "Not on purpose. He was aiming for the guard." He gestured towards the dead body near him.
"Your bandages are soiled, Las. Did you fight them?"
"I wasn't just going to be led away like a child. I killed one of them."
"Yes, and your hands are bleeding again because of it." He ordered someone to get him some water and fresh cloth. "Hold him, Aragorn. He's not going to like this."
Threading his arm under the elf's own injured one, Aragorn pulled the elf against his chest. Mithfalas nodded at his brother's neck, and Aragorn used his other hand to gently push the elf's head back, against his shoulder. Mithfalas cleaned the blood away, inspecting the wound.
"It is not deep. The bleeding has already stopped." He moved on to the injured shoulder, cleaning it and wrapping it. Legolas inhaled sharply, but otherwise did not move. He grimaced when Mithfalas started unwrapping his first hand.
Thankful that his brother's eyes were closed, he motioned for Aragorn to look at the hand. The ranger sighed. The elf's hands were not healing at all.
A while later, everyone's wounds had been dressed and treated. Legolas had finally passed out from his ordeal, now soundly asleep, still in his friend's arms. "Where did they all come from?" he asked Mithfalas gesturing to the crowd of rangers.
"I told you I had things handled. Next time, it would pain you to believe me?"
"You never told me that you had them following you."
"Because it would not have been wise to tell you while Mar was standing in the doorway, Edan."
Aragorn looked at the ground sheepishly.
"I'm not as dumb as the three of you seem to think I am."
"Legolas has nothing to do with our rescue attempts. Either time."
Mithfalas nodded. "No, but had he been in the proper state of mind, he would have. You realize you only made things more difficult. Do you know how close we are to the city?"
Aragorn blushed at being reprimanded. He had only tried to help, after all. "I am sorry," he whispered.
"It's fine. No harm done."
"Well, not much, anyway," Nifren said, joining them. "How is he?"
"He'll live, but he needs to be tended to by a proper healer." He looked at the hurt in Aragorn's face and corrected himself. "A proper healer with the proper tools and medicines. He will lose use of his hands if he is not seen to soon."
Aragorn scooted himself against a tree, pulling Legolas with him. Right now, he just needed sleep.
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"Estel, why do you look so down? In the last month, you foiled a traitorous plot to gain control of the North, foiled another traitorous plot against the sons of Thranduil, saved dozens of lives. . . what could you have to be saddened about?"
Aragorn smiled half-heartedly at Elrond. "It would have been nice if any of it was on purpose."
The half-elf laughed. "Do not worry for your friend. His hands are well on their way to healing fully. You brought him to me just in time."
"I know, I just feel like I am always failing him." Aragorn was not going to mention Mithfalas, just in case Elrond saw fit to send word to Thranduil.
"Is he dead?"
"No."
"Then you have not failed him. Nor has he failed you. Brighten up, young one."
"There are still so many things that I don't understand. Like, that woman. . . who is she? Why is she so intent on killing the prince?"
"That, my son, is an age old grudge that you need not worry about."
"But Elrond,"
"No, Estel. Don't argue with me. You shall learn in time, I fear." A time very soon, unbeknownst to the elf lord.
"Yes, Elrond. Thank you for always taking care of us. It's good to be home."
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Legolas walked into his father's study with a noble air about him. The king stood at once and embraced his son.
"Oh, my little Greenleaf, when I received Elrond's letter, I feared the worst. Really, you have to stop doing this to me. I'm turning into an old elf, and I don't think my heart can take it."
Legolas smiled. "I don't plan these things to torture you. I don't plan them at all, Ada. What have I missed since I left?"
"Sera left us," Thranduil said, his smile fading. "Aldarion's family is well, however. Telemnar won the archery competition, despite his quite drunken state."
Legolas smiled. "That really says something about the other competitors!"
"No, it just proves how wonderful my talent is."
Legolas spun around. "Tel! Oh, it is so good to see you! I'm so sorry for everything I said."
"And I as well, my prince. My friend. Think nothing of it, for I do not."
"And I hope that I, too, am deserving of your forgiveness, my prince?"
Legolas glanced at Ministir, standing in the doorway. "I realize now, Tir, that you did what you had to do, remaining loyal to both of us, my father and me. It is I that beg of you your forgiveness."
"I readily give it to you, my prince! Oh, I am so glad you're okay!" He pulled Legolas into a tight embrace. "Don't ever scare us like that again!" His voice was mixed with utter relief and something strangely maternal, as if saying, "And if you do ever scare us like this again, I will wring your neck with my bare fingers."
Legolas smiled at that thought.
Legolas spent that night in the company of his father and his friends, his spirit taking wings at the interactions that he so missed. He even surprised himself when he had no trouble lifting a pitcher of wine. He was going to be okay.
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He had said goodbye to Mithfalas as soon as he had entered Rivendell. He knew full well that he would probably never see the elf again, but then, he had said that to himself before. Nifren had traveled as far as the Southern edge of the city, then said his goodbyes and went on his own way. The same was true for most of the other rangers, though some stayed in the town, just in case. His hardest goodbye was to the of Aragorn—his brother in arms.
"When will I see you again, mellon nin?" Aragorn had asked as the two sat in front of a warm fire on the eve of Legolas' departure.
"In time. It won't be too long. I hear Elrond is finally going to have that archery contest. I shall not miss that."
"Legolas, that's at least two years away."
"That's no so long, Estel."
Aragorn shook his head. "Not to an immortal, but to me. . ."
Legolas smiled. "Haven't we had this conversation before?"
But Aragorn was right. To an immortal, time meant nothing, an afterthought. But to a creature born of time. . .
Legolas sighed. There would come a day, not so far away, when time would catch up with Aragorn, and grey his hair, slow his walk, and eventually steal his last breath.
Aragorn shoved him to get his attention, smiling widely. Yes, a time would come when Legolas would have to say goodbye forever, but until then, Aragorn was still a young edan, full of hope and nobility.
He laughed then, throwing his head back in mirth, and Legolas saw an ageless wisdom in those human eyes—a glance at the king the man would one day become.
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To my wonderful reviewers:
Deana: The wait for this chapter was so short. I'm so proud of myself! See, Leggy's okay!
Faerlain: I didn't say that I was gonna kill him, I just don't need him anymore. If his death fits in somewhere, okay, if not, he can hang around. Lol, don't get all freaked yet. Besides, I've just been informed that maybe I do need him. . . I'm really glad you liked this story! Thanks for the fun review!
Fallenangel126: Haha, Ministir in Drag. . . I was having so many fun images and trains of thoughts with that. I almost changed the story, but then I realized how it wouldn't work. :: SIGH :: Well, basically, your main question was the one left unanswered. But read the next story for a full explanation! Thanks for your awesomely fun review!
Jazi: Oh, jeez, I was crying reading that review. That was so funny. . . ah, how I love Miffy and Dae. Lol, "It rhymes with Sniffy and Spiffy. . ." I was laughing out loud and my friend asked why, and he just didn't understand. The next story should be posted pretty soon, to be honest. I've got most of it written so far, just need to change a couple things. The original bad guy was Mar (it was written before this, lol,) so I had to tweak a few things. . . anyway, thanks for being such a good reviewer!
Sky 14: Yay! You're back! I missed you! Yeah, I've been busy too. . . a lot has been happening, so I can sympathize. Thanks for the review! You're the only one that still wonders what that secret is. . . we WILL find out, soon. :: wink ::
The next story, aptly titled, An Age Old Grudge, follows Legolas back to Rivendell for Elrond's often delayed archery competition. However, someone knows that he is there and follows him. In a sour turn of events, the elf is left fighting for his life and pride, and no one seems to know where he is.
Here's an excerpt for you, just because I love you all so much!
Legolas was stripped of his tunic, and his hands were retied, one to each pole. The attention of every man was on him, but he refused to look any of them in the eye.
He hissed through his teeth as a whip was unexpectedly and harshly brought down against his shoulders. Another stroke fell across his right side and lower back. The abuse went on this way for a few minutes, until the prince could feel the blood running down his back.
"Hand me the torch," The evil man said from behind him. The prince hid his fear well. He had no idea what was happening, but he was not going to let the fear of it satisfy these men.
Then he felt it, a burning sensation across his back. They had lit the whip on fire. How it stayed lit, he would never know, nor did he need to know. All he knew was the pain.
He looked up and locked eyes with Aragorn. The man remained perfectly still and did not break eye contact.
Legolas felt like vomiting, he was so repulsed by his own misplaced trust in the ranger. He had felt such a rise in his spirits when the man entered his cell twenty minutes ago, and now he was slowly accepting that no man could be trusted.