Chapter Eleven: Predictable Angst
Legolas sat in a small chair by the side of his private garden pool, not really noticing the blue and purple fish. He had a text in his lap, an old weathered volume whose subject was the philosophies of Eru. A bitter smile was wrapped about his face, sinking into his entire attitude, more like a scar than an expression.
There IS no Lureanen.
There were no translations of the names into Sindarin, but the two unamed Maiar, or Istari, were called Pallando and Alatar, and it was debatable whether or not they had ever come to the eastern shores.
Legolas shut the book mechanically with a small click, and rose from his perch. He stalked over to the rope ladder leading to his study, which annexed his rooms, and when he had reached the top, he opened the door with a savage kick. A small voice inside of him was warning him not to break anything, and he knew the voice was correct, but he wished dearly that the Elf in the prisons was there, so he could take out his fury.
"Damn. DAMN! The bastard. That unbelievable bastard- he outwitted me, and he's probably gloating to himself right now! Ugh, Mandos, please, if you have any love at all for my family, make his passing painful...."
Legolas sat, tensed, at his desk, not really believing that he had somehow missed the fact that the Elf was lying. Obviously, Lalorn's master had set up that persona before ever sending him on a mission, and it was set to come into control when the Elf was captured. The Elf had been lying perfectly. Legolas snorted huffily. Lalorn probably believed whatever he had been saying, by now. Poor, weak-minded fool. Part of a larger conspiracy.
Head in his hands, he tipped his chair back with a groan. "Now if only we knew who the real culprit was, we'd be set and ready. Vala. I'll need to take a few days off of Council to work on this. And," he said, with a frown and a look of dawning apprehension in his eyes, "I'll need Larien to come and help. If we can salvage any information from the captive, we won't know if it's his genuine reactions to interrogation, or just the persona."
Everything was getting more and more convoluted the farther he dug into this, and he didn't like it. Frowning, Legolas got up and put on a lacy pink robe, despite the involuluntary shudder the color caused. Then he went into his room, and rang the chime for a page to come.
"Yes, milady?" asked the page, head bowed respectfully. Legolas smiled thinly.
"Get me a bottle of the strongest that the cellar's got, please, and try to get it here quickly. Give them this," he said, holding out a ring, "and they won't ask any questions. Oh-"
"Yes, milady?"
"Better make sure the bottle's closed."
The page nodded and ran off, leaving the door open. Legolas shook his head, and pushed it shut with a weary grimace. He took out a few pieces of parchment and a long pen, and began to write.
Fact: Lothlorien claims to be under threat. They have asked for a mutual assistance treaty which may involve my marriage to Haldir.
Fact: My mother was a mage, I have some of those powers, and Lothlorien knows this. Lothlorien probably wants access to our mages, for whatever the real reason is.
Fact: We have caught an Elf, who succeeded in poisoning me, and who was sent from the so-called enemy. Previous interrogations failed. He seems to be acting under the influence of magic.
Fact: The most likely position for our enemy thus far appears to be Dimrill Dale.
Fact: The most likely enemy (from current information) appears to be an Istari, or, presumably, another being with extremely talented magical skills.
Fact: I intend to get myself very, very drunk.
Fact: On the other hand, if I get very, very drunk, I'll be in a vulnerable position to attack from all sides. Perhaps I'll get somewhat intoxicated, but not completely.
Fact: Remember; that when the truth is found in the defenition with the most power behind it, everyone is your enemy. That when you are vulnerable, you have no "friends". That when you are one step behind, anyone and anything will merely be waiting for you to stumble.
Fact: I need to discuss things with Father.
Fact: Okay. Life is a power game. Let us assemble the powers before us.
-Lady Galadriel and her husband, the driving force of Lorien and its Galadhrim.
-The force of Mirkwood and its mages, possibly a magical army.
-Something that appears to be an Istari, with an almost impossible number of troops and a fantastic amount of power.
Legolas paused. "There's still something missing," he growled, as the door opened. He looked up to see Haldir in the doorway, holding the bottle of Mirkwood's fey wine with a sardonic expression. Legolas smiled.
"Hello, there."
"Good evening, Princess. And how are you?"
"Shut up, and be reasonable. I need something to drink."
"You don't say," Haldir said innocently, uncorking the bottle and whisking a pair of glasses from somewhere out of the blue. "It just so happens that I, too, need to have a strong shot of ox-killer, and lucky for the both of us, I took this out of the hands of a rather too neurotic page."
Legolas grinned. He looked down at his paper and the grin slowly faded away. :Now, there has to be something wrong here. The Istari aren't supposed to attack us, they're supposed to help us.: For some reason, Legolas felt uneasy, as though a dark little thought was trying to make itself be heard. :And there is nothing else it could be. I have all the relevant powers listed here, save for Elrond, but Elrond has no offensive magic whatsoever. The Rohirrim are still recovering from the losses in the War of the Ring, and King Aragorn has yet to rebuild his military forces. Besides, they're humans. They wouldn't attack us. They practically revere us.:
Haldir took a small sip of his glass, the liquid in it almost black, and with a sheen to it that was almost oily. He shuddered. "This is strong," he remarked in a high-pitched voice. "Very strong."
Legolas smirked and elbowed him in the stomach. "Tipsy?"
"Madam! Never," Haldir said sternly, while slipping off the bedside onto the floor. "Merely taking the time to show my reverence."
"I understand completely," Legolas said with blatantly false sincerity. "Do take your time, and try not to drink yourself into a stupor."
Haldir mumbled under his breath while Legolas's innards softened. He really enjoyed the time he got to spend with the Marchwarden, regardless of how it was spent. Legolas knew that love was often deceptive, but he had never really known that it could make someone ordinary appear breathtaking. Furrowed brows or a chapped lip could make another person look askance, but under the throes of love, Legolas doubted he would have minded if boils sprang up all over Haldir's face and chest.
:Now, wasn't that a particularly pleasant mental image?: Legolas said mentally as his stomach disagreed with vehemence. :No more of your nonsensical lovelorn ideas; get back to work or go to bed. Alone. Stop. No, don't think about that, you idiot, you'll embarass yourself!:
"Haldir?"
"Yes, milady?" said the still-sober Haldir with an unreadable glance.
Legolas twiddled with the hem of his robe. "If I was a g- If I was a boy, would you want to be with me? In... that way?"
Haldir's face reddened. He looked away.
"Don't start that again, please."
"Why not?"
"Because despite what you may think about your body, it really does matter to me what your gender is. Breasts frankly make me feel ill, not that you have much of anything in that department. And you'd be missing a rather indispensable anatomical necessity."
"But what if?" Legolas said softly, eyes watery and hands clenched. "I'm not that bad, am I? Do you hate me now?"
"Look, Legala, I don't hate women, I just don't want them."
"So you fantasize about my brother more than you do about me, is that it?"
"Legala-"
"Shut up. Don't answer that, I don't want to know."
"Fine. Be a stubborn bitch. If you want an ego boost, I'll gladly go fetch you that young page again."
Legolas's ears went bright red. "Don't joke about things like that," he said quietly. "I am forbidden to have a relationship with a female or a male, for the sake of my country's honor, and you, my probable future husband, will not have a relationship with me either. I will not have an affair, and I will try not to notice any of yours, but for Eru's sake, at least pretend to love me!"
"I'm sorry. All right? Don't start crying, now, I mean it, I really am sorry. I like you, maybe love you, but I don't physically want you. I love you like a sister, not like a wife."
Legolas nodded. "I'll have to accept that, even though I want more," he pronounced, gloomily tracing his veins with his index finger. He picked up his pen once more, and resumed work, occasionally sipping on his glass of sanguine liquid.
Fact: Saruman, Gandalf, and Radagast are all peaceful, and therefore, they cannot be responsible for the siege of Lorien.
I mean the supposed siege of Lorien.
Conclusion: I am beginning to suspect that Ada knows more that he is telling regarding the Istari mystery. It may not be an Istari at all, and I need to find out as soon as I can. I should probably go tomorrow morning to his flet, and then spend the rest of the day with the prisoner. That reminds me. I need to get Larien, tomorrow, as well, before I go to the prisons. Furthermore, I should remember to ask adar his intentions regarding the probable alliance and whether I'm to be bartered off in a marriage after all.
Legolas put down his pen.
"Haldir?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you have a high tolerance for alcohol?"
"I could drink you under the table. And your father, too."
"Good. Keep an eye on me, I'm getting very, very drunk."
tbc
A/n: Heh, I finally updated. God, I'm a lazy arse. Anyways, I hope no one gave up on this story. It's not dead yet, mates, it's not dead yet...
Oh, and to any rampant Achilles/Brisaeus flamers who're thinking of trying to f with me, I give you a condescending laugh and a little pink pacifier.
I promise to update, really, I'm just involved in these other stories... at Fictionpress, you know, my name's Hyacinthe Wing, check me out there if you're desperate for more of my writing. Ta.
Legolas sat in a small chair by the side of his private garden pool, not really noticing the blue and purple fish. He had a text in his lap, an old weathered volume whose subject was the philosophies of Eru. A bitter smile was wrapped about his face, sinking into his entire attitude, more like a scar than an expression.
There IS no Lureanen.
There were no translations of the names into Sindarin, but the two unamed Maiar, or Istari, were called Pallando and Alatar, and it was debatable whether or not they had ever come to the eastern shores.
Legolas shut the book mechanically with a small click, and rose from his perch. He stalked over to the rope ladder leading to his study, which annexed his rooms, and when he had reached the top, he opened the door with a savage kick. A small voice inside of him was warning him not to break anything, and he knew the voice was correct, but he wished dearly that the Elf in the prisons was there, so he could take out his fury.
"Damn. DAMN! The bastard. That unbelievable bastard- he outwitted me, and he's probably gloating to himself right now! Ugh, Mandos, please, if you have any love at all for my family, make his passing painful...."
Legolas sat, tensed, at his desk, not really believing that he had somehow missed the fact that the Elf was lying. Obviously, Lalorn's master had set up that persona before ever sending him on a mission, and it was set to come into control when the Elf was captured. The Elf had been lying perfectly. Legolas snorted huffily. Lalorn probably believed whatever he had been saying, by now. Poor, weak-minded fool. Part of a larger conspiracy.
Head in his hands, he tipped his chair back with a groan. "Now if only we knew who the real culprit was, we'd be set and ready. Vala. I'll need to take a few days off of Council to work on this. And," he said, with a frown and a look of dawning apprehension in his eyes, "I'll need Larien to come and help. If we can salvage any information from the captive, we won't know if it's his genuine reactions to interrogation, or just the persona."
Everything was getting more and more convoluted the farther he dug into this, and he didn't like it. Frowning, Legolas got up and put on a lacy pink robe, despite the involuluntary shudder the color caused. Then he went into his room, and rang the chime for a page to come.
"Yes, milady?" asked the page, head bowed respectfully. Legolas smiled thinly.
"Get me a bottle of the strongest that the cellar's got, please, and try to get it here quickly. Give them this," he said, holding out a ring, "and they won't ask any questions. Oh-"
"Yes, milady?"
"Better make sure the bottle's closed."
The page nodded and ran off, leaving the door open. Legolas shook his head, and pushed it shut with a weary grimace. He took out a few pieces of parchment and a long pen, and began to write.
Fact: Lothlorien claims to be under threat. They have asked for a mutual assistance treaty which may involve my marriage to Haldir.
Fact: My mother was a mage, I have some of those powers, and Lothlorien knows this. Lothlorien probably wants access to our mages, for whatever the real reason is.
Fact: We have caught an Elf, who succeeded in poisoning me, and who was sent from the so-called enemy. Previous interrogations failed. He seems to be acting under the influence of magic.
Fact: The most likely position for our enemy thus far appears to be Dimrill Dale.
Fact: The most likely enemy (from current information) appears to be an Istari, or, presumably, another being with extremely talented magical skills.
Fact: I intend to get myself very, very drunk.
Fact: On the other hand, if I get very, very drunk, I'll be in a vulnerable position to attack from all sides. Perhaps I'll get somewhat intoxicated, but not completely.
Fact: Remember; that when the truth is found in the defenition with the most power behind it, everyone is your enemy. That when you are vulnerable, you have no "friends". That when you are one step behind, anyone and anything will merely be waiting for you to stumble.
Fact: I need to discuss things with Father.
Fact: Okay. Life is a power game. Let us assemble the powers before us.
-Lady Galadriel and her husband, the driving force of Lorien and its Galadhrim.
-The force of Mirkwood and its mages, possibly a magical army.
-Something that appears to be an Istari, with an almost impossible number of troops and a fantastic amount of power.
Legolas paused. "There's still something missing," he growled, as the door opened. He looked up to see Haldir in the doorway, holding the bottle of Mirkwood's fey wine with a sardonic expression. Legolas smiled.
"Hello, there."
"Good evening, Princess. And how are you?"
"Shut up, and be reasonable. I need something to drink."
"You don't say," Haldir said innocently, uncorking the bottle and whisking a pair of glasses from somewhere out of the blue. "It just so happens that I, too, need to have a strong shot of ox-killer, and lucky for the both of us, I took this out of the hands of a rather too neurotic page."
Legolas grinned. He looked down at his paper and the grin slowly faded away. :Now, there has to be something wrong here. The Istari aren't supposed to attack us, they're supposed to help us.: For some reason, Legolas felt uneasy, as though a dark little thought was trying to make itself be heard. :And there is nothing else it could be. I have all the relevant powers listed here, save for Elrond, but Elrond has no offensive magic whatsoever. The Rohirrim are still recovering from the losses in the War of the Ring, and King Aragorn has yet to rebuild his military forces. Besides, they're humans. They wouldn't attack us. They practically revere us.:
Haldir took a small sip of his glass, the liquid in it almost black, and with a sheen to it that was almost oily. He shuddered. "This is strong," he remarked in a high-pitched voice. "Very strong."
Legolas smirked and elbowed him in the stomach. "Tipsy?"
"Madam! Never," Haldir said sternly, while slipping off the bedside onto the floor. "Merely taking the time to show my reverence."
"I understand completely," Legolas said with blatantly false sincerity. "Do take your time, and try not to drink yourself into a stupor."
Haldir mumbled under his breath while Legolas's innards softened. He really enjoyed the time he got to spend with the Marchwarden, regardless of how it was spent. Legolas knew that love was often deceptive, but he had never really known that it could make someone ordinary appear breathtaking. Furrowed brows or a chapped lip could make another person look askance, but under the throes of love, Legolas doubted he would have minded if boils sprang up all over Haldir's face and chest.
:Now, wasn't that a particularly pleasant mental image?: Legolas said mentally as his stomach disagreed with vehemence. :No more of your nonsensical lovelorn ideas; get back to work or go to bed. Alone. Stop. No, don't think about that, you idiot, you'll embarass yourself!:
"Haldir?"
"Yes, milady?" said the still-sober Haldir with an unreadable glance.
Legolas twiddled with the hem of his robe. "If I was a g- If I was a boy, would you want to be with me? In... that way?"
Haldir's face reddened. He looked away.
"Don't start that again, please."
"Why not?"
"Because despite what you may think about your body, it really does matter to me what your gender is. Breasts frankly make me feel ill, not that you have much of anything in that department. And you'd be missing a rather indispensable anatomical necessity."
"But what if?" Legolas said softly, eyes watery and hands clenched. "I'm not that bad, am I? Do you hate me now?"
"Look, Legala, I don't hate women, I just don't want them."
"So you fantasize about my brother more than you do about me, is that it?"
"Legala-"
"Shut up. Don't answer that, I don't want to know."
"Fine. Be a stubborn bitch. If you want an ego boost, I'll gladly go fetch you that young page again."
Legolas's ears went bright red. "Don't joke about things like that," he said quietly. "I am forbidden to have a relationship with a female or a male, for the sake of my country's honor, and you, my probable future husband, will not have a relationship with me either. I will not have an affair, and I will try not to notice any of yours, but for Eru's sake, at least pretend to love me!"
"I'm sorry. All right? Don't start crying, now, I mean it, I really am sorry. I like you, maybe love you, but I don't physically want you. I love you like a sister, not like a wife."
Legolas nodded. "I'll have to accept that, even though I want more," he pronounced, gloomily tracing his veins with his index finger. He picked up his pen once more, and resumed work, occasionally sipping on his glass of sanguine liquid.
Fact: Saruman, Gandalf, and Radagast are all peaceful, and therefore, they cannot be responsible for the siege of Lorien.
I mean the supposed siege of Lorien.
Conclusion: I am beginning to suspect that Ada knows more that he is telling regarding the Istari mystery. It may not be an Istari at all, and I need to find out as soon as I can. I should probably go tomorrow morning to his flet, and then spend the rest of the day with the prisoner. That reminds me. I need to get Larien, tomorrow, as well, before I go to the prisons. Furthermore, I should remember to ask adar his intentions regarding the probable alliance and whether I'm to be bartered off in a marriage after all.
Legolas put down his pen.
"Haldir?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you have a high tolerance for alcohol?"
"I could drink you under the table. And your father, too."
"Good. Keep an eye on me, I'm getting very, very drunk."
tbc
A/n: Heh, I finally updated. God, I'm a lazy arse. Anyways, I hope no one gave up on this story. It's not dead yet, mates, it's not dead yet...
Oh, and to any rampant Achilles/Brisaeus flamers who're thinking of trying to f with me, I give you a condescending laugh and a little pink pacifier.
I promise to update, really, I'm just involved in these other stories... at Fictionpress, you know, my name's Hyacinthe Wing, check me out there if you're desperate for more of my writing. Ta.