Part 9
She lay at the center of the wide, smooth stone, golden hair spilled around her hair, pale skin just a breath away from transcience. Legolas Prince, whom all of Mirkwood had been waiting for, stood still beside the unmoving figure. His gaze never left her face, not even minding the unconscious man who also lay on another healin stone close by. Legolas's presence was foremost in all the Elven minds, for he was a grand name, a true hero, a tale passed on from parents to children with the frequency of that of their awakening. Yet for all the attention that the prince had bestowed on his people, it were as if Legolas was still in the faraway lands, even Eressea.
While all the maidens wanted to be Legolas' own, no word of disdain passed their lips at the constant sight of the prince merely standing guard before the still stranger on the stone. Memories assailed them, of the leader of the host of Elves who journeyed to Valinor and sired the fiercest spirit of them all. Fingon, pitiful Fingon, who bound his heart to a wife so frail of body and spirit that with their first child's birthing Miriel slept for eternity. And as if Lothlorien's trees could heal her, he laid her on a like slab of stone and sat beside her for years and years, unmoving, waiting for her eyes to open, for her lips to move. And the trees blossomed and died above Fingon, the lands shifted and creatures grew around him. Still, Fingon waited for Miriel until her spirit flew to the Halls of Mandos. Yet Fingon was still bound of heart.
"To be so fierce a warrior, to be so fair of face, yet to be so pained," the maidens sighed as they stayed behind the trees watching Legolas' vigil.
"If only he would raise his head and look at us. Perhaps we can steal away his ache," an Elven maid agonized.
His weapons discarded at his feet, Legolas leaned over her to pick up a stray leaf that dared fall over her cheek.
"What signs do these events bring?" an Elven elder asked Thranduil. They too watched from afar as the warrior prince of Mirkwood remained heedless of the forest kingdom. Since Legolas arrived with his burden, he had spoken to no one save the healer who came each night to tend the woman's wound. "Two unconscious strangers become the focus of our world."
Thranduil's forehead creased as he watched his son brush the leaf away. "My son I raised with a clear stand on his duties to our kingdom. I doubt not that this fancy is fleeting," he said, although he knew it was not so, from Legolas' own actions. "The man from the stream baffles me. That he would wake soon I desire. We must know if he brings shadows with him."
"Perhaps, King, if you spoke to your son now, we can take him from this state. There is much that needs fulfilling."
Thranduil nodded. It was not that he did not wish to speak with his son. It was that, upon his arrival, Legolas had seemed so bent on the healing that he never had the chance.
Later, as he stood behind Legolas, Thranduil's eyes turned to the sleeping young woman. She seemed better, he thought, than how she appeared when the two arrived. A flush of color was in her cheeks, and her lips were no longer pale. He felt strangely proud. Mirkwood had not yet failed to fulfill her children.
His gaze wandered to the thick golden hair that could so easily have passed as pure Elven, even Noldor. And then he saw her ears, and Thranduil's jaw tightened. "She is no Elf." He stepped closer and read her face. "Not a trace of Numenor in her blood. What manner of being have you taken into the Woodland Realm?"
"She is not Noldo nor any of the peoples who escaped the sundered land," Legolas said quietly, not facing his father.
"For one who is brilliant in battle," Thranduil declared, "I know not how this you did not first think about."
Chloe took a deep breath and turned her head to the side. The movement brought a smile to Legolas's lips. "And so wakes. Almost."
"Where were your keen eyes when you decided to fool yourself with this woman?"
The reminder made Legolas grin. Chloe was about completely healed, and his father, despite the anger in his tone, had just brought an image to mind of how he brashly touched Chloe's breast on their meeting. "We do not choose where we love."
"Love." Thranduil scoffed. And then a terrifying thought occurred to him. "You have bonded?"
For some reason that he could not name, Legolas as overcome with the urge to push his father away from Chloe at that point. He rumbled, "Tis a matter of which I would not speak, father."
And it was the way that Legolas turned away and walked cloer to Chloe that made the king tremble with apprehension. His heir and flesh seemed too intent on the strange woman. "So be it," Thranduil pronounced. "But remember that love and bonding is to is sacred marriage."
"This I know, father."
"Tell me, Legolas, when first you saw her, did you know you loved her?"
"No."
"Then by will of the Valar, as surely as the sun chases the moon, she is not your destined mate."
Chloe moaned softly and opened her eyes. The first vision she saw was of several lovely young women looking at her direction. She turned her head and was blessed with the silhouette of Legolas. She sighed in relief and sat up on the hard stone. Later she would get on his case for putting her on a darned rock but for now, she was too relieved that she was not in the disinfectant-smelling Smallville General. Chloe beamed up at Legolas and threw her arms around his neck.
Legolas wrapped his arms around her, so tightly that Thranduil thought the young woman's spine would break. Legolas buried his lips in her hair and chuckled.
"I was so afraid that I would never see you again."
Legolas closed his eyes and released all the tension that had coiled inside him since he woke to realize that Tolfer had ill intent for Chloe. "What warrior would allow victory to escape him?"
Chloe smiled up at Legolas upon being referred to as victory. She's read Greek mythology, even the biography of the great leaders. She knew that for warriors, princes even, victory was life.
She saw an older Elf behind Legolas, wrapped in robes that spoke of luxury and power, turn his back on them and walk away. Chloe would have reacted, called to the man, and at least greet him. But she needed this moment. She wrapped her arms more tightly around Legolas.
When slowly she turned her head to breathe deeply of his scent, Chloe's lips parted at the sight. Reluctantly she pulled away from Legolas's arms and walked over towards the other healing stone. Legolas followed closely behind her. He stiffened when she reached out and clasped the stranger's hand in her own.
"Clark?" she whispered.
Legolas stepped beside Chloe and wrapped his arm around her waist. Chloe sucked in her breath at the touch. Vaguely, Legolas decided that she needed more time for her wound to heal.
He removed his gaze from the stranger. He did not care about him. Instead he turned to Chloe and felt his heart break from the tears in her eyes. She was hurting. Yet he wanted to hurl this Man to the farthest possible place not because he feared Chloe's pain but because he feared that if this Man remained, he would lose Chloe.
tbc
She lay at the center of the wide, smooth stone, golden hair spilled around her hair, pale skin just a breath away from transcience. Legolas Prince, whom all of Mirkwood had been waiting for, stood still beside the unmoving figure. His gaze never left her face, not even minding the unconscious man who also lay on another healin stone close by. Legolas's presence was foremost in all the Elven minds, for he was a grand name, a true hero, a tale passed on from parents to children with the frequency of that of their awakening. Yet for all the attention that the prince had bestowed on his people, it were as if Legolas was still in the faraway lands, even Eressea.
While all the maidens wanted to be Legolas' own, no word of disdain passed their lips at the constant sight of the prince merely standing guard before the still stranger on the stone. Memories assailed them, of the leader of the host of Elves who journeyed to Valinor and sired the fiercest spirit of them all. Fingon, pitiful Fingon, who bound his heart to a wife so frail of body and spirit that with their first child's birthing Miriel slept for eternity. And as if Lothlorien's trees could heal her, he laid her on a like slab of stone and sat beside her for years and years, unmoving, waiting for her eyes to open, for her lips to move. And the trees blossomed and died above Fingon, the lands shifted and creatures grew around him. Still, Fingon waited for Miriel until her spirit flew to the Halls of Mandos. Yet Fingon was still bound of heart.
"To be so fierce a warrior, to be so fair of face, yet to be so pained," the maidens sighed as they stayed behind the trees watching Legolas' vigil.
"If only he would raise his head and look at us. Perhaps we can steal away his ache," an Elven maid agonized.
His weapons discarded at his feet, Legolas leaned over her to pick up a stray leaf that dared fall over her cheek.
"What signs do these events bring?" an Elven elder asked Thranduil. They too watched from afar as the warrior prince of Mirkwood remained heedless of the forest kingdom. Since Legolas arrived with his burden, he had spoken to no one save the healer who came each night to tend the woman's wound. "Two unconscious strangers become the focus of our world."
Thranduil's forehead creased as he watched his son brush the leaf away. "My son I raised with a clear stand on his duties to our kingdom. I doubt not that this fancy is fleeting," he said, although he knew it was not so, from Legolas' own actions. "The man from the stream baffles me. That he would wake soon I desire. We must know if he brings shadows with him."
"Perhaps, King, if you spoke to your son now, we can take him from this state. There is much that needs fulfilling."
Thranduil nodded. It was not that he did not wish to speak with his son. It was that, upon his arrival, Legolas had seemed so bent on the healing that he never had the chance.
Later, as he stood behind Legolas, Thranduil's eyes turned to the sleeping young woman. She seemed better, he thought, than how she appeared when the two arrived. A flush of color was in her cheeks, and her lips were no longer pale. He felt strangely proud. Mirkwood had not yet failed to fulfill her children.
His gaze wandered to the thick golden hair that could so easily have passed as pure Elven, even Noldor. And then he saw her ears, and Thranduil's jaw tightened. "She is no Elf." He stepped closer and read her face. "Not a trace of Numenor in her blood. What manner of being have you taken into the Woodland Realm?"
"She is not Noldo nor any of the peoples who escaped the sundered land," Legolas said quietly, not facing his father.
"For one who is brilliant in battle," Thranduil declared, "I know not how this you did not first think about."
Chloe took a deep breath and turned her head to the side. The movement brought a smile to Legolas's lips. "And so wakes. Almost."
"Where were your keen eyes when you decided to fool yourself with this woman?"
The reminder made Legolas grin. Chloe was about completely healed, and his father, despite the anger in his tone, had just brought an image to mind of how he brashly touched Chloe's breast on their meeting. "We do not choose where we love."
"Love." Thranduil scoffed. And then a terrifying thought occurred to him. "You have bonded?"
For some reason that he could not name, Legolas as overcome with the urge to push his father away from Chloe at that point. He rumbled, "Tis a matter of which I would not speak, father."
And it was the way that Legolas turned away and walked cloer to Chloe that made the king tremble with apprehension. His heir and flesh seemed too intent on the strange woman. "So be it," Thranduil pronounced. "But remember that love and bonding is to is sacred marriage."
"This I know, father."
"Tell me, Legolas, when first you saw her, did you know you loved her?"
"No."
"Then by will of the Valar, as surely as the sun chases the moon, she is not your destined mate."
Chloe moaned softly and opened her eyes. The first vision she saw was of several lovely young women looking at her direction. She turned her head and was blessed with the silhouette of Legolas. She sighed in relief and sat up on the hard stone. Later she would get on his case for putting her on a darned rock but for now, she was too relieved that she was not in the disinfectant-smelling Smallville General. Chloe beamed up at Legolas and threw her arms around his neck.
Legolas wrapped his arms around her, so tightly that Thranduil thought the young woman's spine would break. Legolas buried his lips in her hair and chuckled.
"I was so afraid that I would never see you again."
Legolas closed his eyes and released all the tension that had coiled inside him since he woke to realize that Tolfer had ill intent for Chloe. "What warrior would allow victory to escape him?"
Chloe smiled up at Legolas upon being referred to as victory. She's read Greek mythology, even the biography of the great leaders. She knew that for warriors, princes even, victory was life.
She saw an older Elf behind Legolas, wrapped in robes that spoke of luxury and power, turn his back on them and walk away. Chloe would have reacted, called to the man, and at least greet him. But she needed this moment. She wrapped her arms more tightly around Legolas.
When slowly she turned her head to breathe deeply of his scent, Chloe's lips parted at the sight. Reluctantly she pulled away from Legolas's arms and walked over towards the other healing stone. Legolas followed closely behind her. He stiffened when she reached out and clasped the stranger's hand in her own.
"Clark?" she whispered.
Legolas stepped beside Chloe and wrapped his arm around her waist. Chloe sucked in her breath at the touch. Vaguely, Legolas decided that she needed more time for her wound to heal.
He removed his gaze from the stranger. He did not care about him. Instead he turned to Chloe and felt his heart break from the tears in her eyes. She was hurting. Yet he wanted to hurl this Man to the farthest possible place not because he feared Chloe's pain but because he feared that if this Man remained, he would lose Chloe.
tbc