Laurelin sat up on her elbows softly. She still got dizzy sometimes and it was hard to keep a straight head when the world was spinning around you. But recently it had been getting better. She slid her legs over the side of the cot and walked over to the chair by her bed as carefully as possible. Things were still a bit disoriented. Picking up her tunic from the chair, she slipped it over her head and walked cautiously from her room out into the night air.
The cool late spring moon was a tiny dying sliver in the sky, winking down to the mortals below; a final farewell for the May moon. Laurelin wrapped her arms around her waist and headed out a bit further into the thin mountain air. A breeze reached through the folds of her clothing with icy fingers. Laurelin thought of Linad and smiled. Her horse would have been home by now, well fed, warm, happy.
Her bare feet tested the ground as they led her to the makeshift stables, erected when the fires had burned down the original shed that kept them. Now a large tent served as the shelter for the horses. The smell of hay and earth filled her mouth as she opened the flap, her smile widening when she saw the horse she now called her own standing right by the door. Belle was silver in the soft glow of the stars and her eyes turned dark without daylight. Laurelin's smiled grew wider as she stroked the muzzle of the animal, her arms and legs breaking out in goose bumps at being so near to such a powerful animal.
"Hello there," She spoke softly, the ears of the horse perking at the sound of her voice, "How are you girl? How are you doing?"
"You mean boy," Came an anonymous voice from the back of the tent.
Laurelin jumped and peered into the shadows, "Who is it?"
From the dim gray shade, Eldarion emerged from the mess of the silhouetted horses. A soft grin played at the edges of his lips.
Laurelin inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. She had become extremely wary of shadows and things that lurked therein.
"Good Evening, sire," She replied, noticing that they creases in the Prince's normally furrowed brow were not there, "What brings you out here?"
The prince shrugged and came up beside her, patting the patient horse on the nose absentmindedly, "What anybody goes to the stables for, for peace, thoughtfulness, solitude," He accentuated the word solitude and looked over at her with a grin.
"Well if you want me to go that's fine," Laurelin said, beginning to turn her nearest foot to the door, "I completely under-"
"No no no," The Prince interrupted, his mouth forming a silent 'o', "I was just teasing you, Morwen."
"Teasing? Since when does Prince Eldarion tease?"
He then uttered that laugh she had grown to love and hate at the same time. It wasn't the loud, thunderous shout that Kale omitted, or the rolling chuckle, like that of a log rolling down a hill, that Rolen had released. It was quiet, and you almost didn't realize that he was laughing till he was over and once again, silent and statuesque. But this time, instead of it annoying her, Laurelin found her listening intently to the shaking breaths and wanting more, like a thirsty man in the desert, not getting enough water to sustain him.
"There had been many new changes in my life, Morwen, and you, being my greatest critic ought to have known that," He replied, as she began to pat the mane of the horse once again, watching the animal's mane rise and fall with its breaths.
"Aye, I believe your right," She replied, "I guess I've just been slacking off lately."
A silence passed over, but there was no urgency for speech. Neither parties spoke, as they listened to the steady and continuous breaths of the horses beat in harmony with the breeze outside. It was an understanding silence, with words of its own.
"Morwen, I wanted to apologize for my behavior when we first met," The quiet shattered into a thousand glass pieces as Eldarion spoke, "I was not the most gentlemanly of characters at the point in time. I guess the whole thought of commanding my own host at such a young age had gotten to my head." He chuckled, "Obviously, I wasn't ready for the responsibility. I have neither the experience nor the skill."
"No don't say that," Laurelin protested, looking over at the Prince, "You have the skill, but as you said, you're young. And experience perfects skill. Your only 22 years,"
The prince laid his own hand on the horses mane, staring at the watery locks in his fingers, "You're right, as usual," He replied, earning a grin from Laurelin.
"I should apologize as well. I walked in there like I owned your host. I was so eager and immature. But I have learned to control my temper, maybe someday I will tame it and become as docile as everybody else wants me to be," She said with a chuckle.
"No," Eldarion said quietly, his hand releasing the horse's mane and trailing over to her own pale hand, taking her fingers in his, "No Morwen, never change. Your temper, your passion, never lose it, never break it."
Laurelin became conscious of their hands intertwined and looked over at him warily. He was gazing at her hand as if it were a bird, something so fragile and rare that he was terrified he would hurt it. He took it in his other hand, cradling her worn fingers.
"Don't ever change, Morwen,"
He looked up at her, his eyes dark with something she did not recognize. She didn't understand. How could they be like this now? They had hated each other, pure hatred; the kind that cannot be broken a few weeks before. Now they stood together, at peace. There was something else as well now, and it surprised her greatly.
The thought came as Eldarion's hand reached up to her face and stroked her cheek, ivory with the lack of sunlight for the past few days. The thought cleared further, and straightened as he leant forward, closer to her mouth. Her breath became heavier; not knowing what was coming over her. This was the man she was supposed to despise. She was being forced to marry him in that other life, and now she was compliant to him in this one. She stopped breathing when his lips found hers, and his arms wrapped around her waist. She was a walking contradiction, and she knew it. So it didn't hurt or help any as she trailed her own hands to his shoulders. Accepting, welcoming, and confusing her even more. The kiss deepened, as did her feelings.
She knew she would wake up the next morning and scold herself for her behavior. She was acting like a loose scullery maid. But tonight, not this evening.
In the morning she would worry about it, but not now.
Morning came, finding the field, the grass and flowers crushed around their sleeping bodies. Laurelin's eyes fluttered open, Eldarion's arm wrapped around her shoulders. He was still sleeping, his hair catching glances from the morning sun, jealous of Laurelin's half elven prize, her beautiful reminder of humanity.
Her body felt whole again. She was warm even with dew dampening her skin and the thin cloth of her sleeping garment softly. Her fingers listlessly trailed up the opening in the prince's tunic, tracing her fingers on his skin, sliding over the worked chest muscles hidden beneath. She smiled and dug her head deeper into his side. She felt Eldarion's hand stir and begin to make small circles on her side, trailing long sweeps up and down her back, along her thigh and up to her breasts where they discreetly stopped.
"I hate mornings," Came his voice, his eyes still closed, "I really do,"
This made her laugh slightly, "I love them," She replied, "They're my favorite part of the day." She played with a tie on his shirt casually, as her eyelids drifted shut once more.
Eldarion grunted and shifted, bringing his other arm from behind his head where it had been to wrap itself around her. She knew he was waiting for her to open her eyes, but she decided to pretend not to notice. She felt his breath blow a stray curl from her face and his fingers trace her earlobe absentmindedly. He brought his face close to hers and lightly touched her forehead with his lips, then trail them down her cheek. It was hardly a kiss, you couldn't call it that, it was something infinitely deeper and more pure and it made her smile even wider, his mouth finally finding hers. At that she opened her eyes as they parted. His eyes reminded her of silver, not a dreary gray but something alive and breathing. She grinned as she noticed his ears. They were fairly normal, except for the fact that they were ever so slightly pointed. She would tease him about them later, but not now. No, not now.
But the sun was getting higher and they were expecting the last host to come in a while. Frowning, she tried to untangle herself from his embrace.
"What? Where are you going?" He asked, trying to keep her imprisoned in his arms. Oh how she wanted to stay there for eternity, but sighing faintly, she sat up.
"We had better be getting back to the camp," She replied, "We have work to do and we don't want people to talk,"
She looked back over at him where he lay still, propped up on his elbow. They both looked in disarray.
"You're right," He replied, sitting up, setting his arms on his knees, "We can't have rumors,"
"No," She commented, standing, "Not with your blushing bride waiting at home," She laughed, at what was known and unknown.
Eldarion smiled along with her sadly. She did reply. There could be nothing between them, ever. Even if she was the one he would have married, she could never do it. After her display, King Ellesar and Queen Arwen had probably already found another suitor for him. A smile played on her face remembering it. It seemed so far away. What a mess she had gotten herself into. A snarled, heaping mess that would never be solved it seemed, sitting there in a field green with more than grass and spring.
"I had better go back first," Laurelin said, breaking the silence into a thousand pieces that were scattered to the breeze, "Then you can follow in a few moments."
She bent down to grab her tunic and slipped it over her head and she began to walk away, quickening her pace as the sun seemed to race her to the sleeping camp.
She had been an idiot, she realized that now, in the sunlight where everything makes sense. She had let herself lose sanity the night before and not she was going to suffer the consequences whatever that may be.
She reached her tent and disappeared in it. Eldarion followed soon after.
They did not know that the final host that would help in the retaking of Moria had arrived in the early morning hours, archers and swordsmen from Mirkwood, led by the Prince of the last remaining elf settlement in Middle Earth.
Neither knew they had been seen as well, but a pair of familiar elvish eyes.
The medicinal soldier was amazed at Laurelin's recovery and allowed her to attend the meeting of the captains that had previously been scheduled for that evening.
Pulling her clean tunic over her head and lacing up the crotch of her leggings, a voice outside her tent sounded.
"Captain Morwen?" It was Kale, "Are you decent?"
Tying off the leather straps, she tucked her hair behind her ear and looked toward the door, "Yes, you may enter,"
Kale strode into the tent, the gold stubble that had recently littered his unshaved chin was absent this morning and his hair was held back in a leather tie behind his head, the curls brushing the base of his neck. Laurelin had to admit, though Eldarion had a mystique of his own, Kale was definitely the better looking of the two.
Laurelin smiled, "Good morning, Kale," She asked, sitting down on her bed and slipping her boots onto her feet.
They had given her a new pair but she still insisted on wear her father's old pair even if they were too big for her. It gave her stability and she had given up on trying to forget her past life. It was something that had happened and she couldn't help it, but she wouldn't let it spoil the new life she was trying to build around her ruined city.
"The gathered Captains are having our meeting early," Kale informed her sitting down on a nearby chair and inspecting his fingernails.
"Why? The last host isn't expected to come in till late this afternoon," She asked looking up from her boots and resting her elbows on her knees.
"Well, my dear Morwen," Kale answered with a smile, "Elves are not the kind of beings to be punctual; they are always early, no matter what,"
"Elves?" She asked with a smile, "There's a legion of elves aiding dwarves?"
"Well not willingly, mind you," Kale stood and walked to the tent flap, opening it for a second to gaze out into the growing light and busy camp, "But they are from Mirkwood, and their Prince, Legolas Greenleaf, is a forward thinker. He believes that dwarves and elves should find common ground and create allegiances. He convinced his father that this was the prime opportunity."
Laurelin felt her heart jump up to her throat and looked up at him in alarm, "Legolas Greenleaf?" She asked, "From Mirkwood?"
"Yes," Kale said casually glancing over at Laurelin who sat on her cot, her face like that of a deer caught in the way of a hunter, "Do you know of him?" He asked, "Are you alright?" He was curious about the change in her manner after he had mentioned the Elf Prince.
Laurelin forced her body to cut the surge of alarmed adrenaline that pulsed through her veins and looked up at Kale a bit shaken, "Oh yes, I'm fine, I've just never met an elf before," She lied apprehensively.
"Oh," Kale said with a grin, "Well I can introduce you if-"
"No!" She interrupted abruptly, surprising the already baffled Kale, "No, I don't think that would do. I wouldn't know what to say and I'm not grand enough to meet someone like that,"
Kale looked at her, trying to figure out her sudden change in mood, but smiled slightly, "I understand," He crossed his arms across his chest and looked up at her with green eyes, "So I'll see you at the meeting?"
Laurelin bit her lip and nodded, "Aye, you shall,"
"Alright then, till later Morwen," And with that he left the stuffy tent, leaving Laurelin to her frenzied thoughts and the last syllable of her alias, her lie.
She knew she would have to face her demons at some point, but not in this form.