Hi guys. Yawn It's eight. Eight am on a holliday weekend. And why am I up? Because Nea called me and told me she'd e-mailed me this chapter. That nut has been up since five. Crazy girl. And she's working on Among the Brambles some, so expect one chapter... but she sounded pretty frazzled. I think it's going to be stuck for a little while.
I got one nasty review that I think kind of doesn't fit with my story, but my normal reviewers are nice and very much appreciated. Even at eight.
Well. Chapter here. Bed there. Bye. (I am going to strangle her.)
Chapter 13
As Legolas watched, Nenya's eyes went on animal mode, flickering over everything constantly, searching for a threat. They entered the palace, Argile on her shoulder as Zetea went back to where they had left their wolf pack milling restlessly in the woods. The would undoubtedly go deeper to avoid being spotted and hunted by the elves.
He had reached a truce of sorts with her after an uneasy while following their fight. He didn't bring it up, and neither did she, letting it sink into the unsaid jumble that blocked the path to a real friendship between them. It worried him a bit, leaving so much unsaid, but it irritated him more. Elves usually liked him, accepted his friendship eagerly. Those that were deterred by his title came around in time, and that was the only stumbling block he had ever come across, until he met her
With her, it was a secret she assumed would drive any elves from her, one she thought made her less than they were. She didn't care about his title any more than he did, cared just for the fact that he was an elf, which had been equated with rejection in her mind at some point.
He could think of no way to prove that she could trust him, trust her entire group, as friends. But he had to smile, internally, at least, at the chance to turn the tables. He slid up to her shoulder, leaning his head down slightly so his words went to her ear alone. "You are safe in my protection, Nenya," he murmured.
She glanced up at him, ever so briefly before her eyes returned to scanning the faces, the poses, the colors and moves. Anything in the hall, any movement, caught her attention and was cataloged carefully and quickly as threatening, non-threatening, or potentially either, needing further study. "You shall have to forgive me for not believing that, Legolas. But I have not known elves, and do not know their ways. Within this hall are several who offer great potential threat, even if at the moment they stand down."
He sighed softly and shook his head. "They are not going to attack you."
"Has it never happened that one elf has attacked another elf?"
"Of course it has, but rarely, and never when the elf in question was around one of royal blood… at least in Mirkwood."
"It pays to be spoiled, then?"
Legolas frowned slightly. "I should not dignify that jab with a response. I will say, however, that I am not the eldest prince. By the necessity of tradition, it is Teraien who is 'spoiled' as you put it, as he will one day be king."
"Woe to the elves of Mirkwood if you are right," she murmured softly as they approached the great hall. Still she kept watch on everything, her eyes darting back and forth so quickly he was surprised she could see anything enough to tell what it was. Practice, he supposed.
"He would do well at ordering others around."
"Well at the ordering, no doubt, but not at the understanding the reasons one would order, or what orders would be in their best interest." She drew in a deep breath and let it out as she closed her eyes for an instant, long only by the standard of her flickering attention to every minute detail. "This is your domain, prince," she murmured, stepping slightly aside.
"And I am yours to command," he agreed, remaining just behind her shoulder with a quick sideways move.
"Then I command you to lead us to your father," she sighed.
"Ah," he smiled slightly and straightened completely. "If that is your wish, you were headed about it all wrong. He shall be in the library now." He moved past her and led the group into the library, smiling at a few friends he saw, but pausing for none. "Father?" he asked, stepping into the room.
Nenya watched, feeling like a lost child as Legolas, once again a prince, stepped forward to be embraced by the king. She had only seen the Prince Legolas once before—when he stood on the path to warn the woodmen away from the wolves. The others of the group were greeted warmly in turn, before they were dismissed by Thranduil as he led her and Legolas to a room away from others. Solid stone formed the walls, and the only way in was the door they had used. It was a good room for private conferences, and to release some of her tension, as long as they were the only ones within.
Thranduil turned to her with a smile. "It is good to see you again, Nenya. Tell me, how have things gone?"
"They have learned many valuable skills that could be put to great use should they be needed to hunt spiders."
"Should we be needed? Wasn't that the point of this whole thing?"
Nenya looked at Legolas for a long moment, putting him back into his place as a group member when she lifted a brow and tilted her head at the door. After a lightening quick glance at his father, who remained silent, he left, closing the door behind him
Thranduil chuckled softly and motioned at a chair, taking one for himself. Then he contemplated the statement she had made that had prompted both Legolas's question and his removal. "You have told him nothing."
"He has had no success in finding a viable reason for me to tell him anything. I had even less reason to tell him what are merely shadows of suspicions in my mind. Or to tell you," she added as Thranduil's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"But if you are right, in whatever you suspect, what will become of the forest if they should succeed…"
"In killing me? The would have to get through a lot to do so when I am at home. Here it would be fairly easy in comparison, but I will not go without a fight."
"You fear for your safety here?"
"Every instant. I am surrounded by sounds, by movement, by stillness of rock and the array of weapons crafted by elves. It is not my place to be, I do not feel right here." Still, it wasn't herself she really worried about.
"I am sure your group felt somewhat out of place when they went to your home."
"For a few hours. My home is a wood-elf's home. Any wood-elf could be comfortable there. This is a home for dwarves. I am an elf, a wood-elf who has only ever known the trees. To live under a mountain is not something I can contemplate doing." She sighed softly and shook her head. "As to the question you began to ask, should I be killed in the continuation of this task, I have left a letter in my flet where either Argile or Zetea shall find it and bring it to you."
Thranduil frowned slightly. "Your preparedness for this worries me, Nenya."
"I take my promises seriously, Thranduil. You need not worry."
"I worry for you as well," he murmured, his frown deepening.
"You shouldn't," she stated softly. "I would like to return to my group now, or what of it remains."
"Oleydya's room is three down, then to your right."
"I recall," Nenya nodded slightly and slipped silently out the door, leaving Thranduil to think for a few minutes before Legolas returned, as Thranduil had expected he would.
"How did it go?" he asked he son quietly.
"I don't know what she thinks we learned that could be of use. We went out there and lived in the trees, and then we came back."
With a smile Thranduil looked at his middle child. Since the group had returned, Thranduil had been interested to see the changes in them. "You also learned to trust her, did you not? Trust you will need if you are to follow her into a spider tree."
Legolas blinked and sank down into the chair she had recently left. Slowly he frowned. "We trust her, but she doesn't trust us."
"Doesn't she?"
"I don't mean her life." Legolas dismissed that notion with a move of his hand.
"Then what?"
Legolas frowned slightly, wondering, briefly, if he should ask what it was she so feared them finding out, but he shook the thought away. She would have to tell him that. "She doesn't trust us any father than with her life."
Thranduil frowned and glanced up, seeing the frustration her choice had produced in his son. He smiled slightly. "So you found a she-elf who doesn't fall over herself to know you?"
"I believe you've confused me with Teraien," Legolas muttered softly, his eyes hardening.
Thranduil shook his head. "They hope for a crown from him, but enjoy having your friendship."
"The friendship of a prince, or of an elf?" he sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"Does this disturb you so for any reason beyond her resistance?"
Legolas smiled slightly, his eyes darting around the room. "I think she's rubbed off on me," he muttered after a moment, shaking his head. "I hear thousands of sounds my ears were numbed to before, smell and see so much my head is overwhelmed. I want to go back into the woods where there is less to attend to. At the same time, I know if I stay here long enough, I shall go back to ignoring it all, and will be at ease here, but I'm not sure that I would want to."
"You enjoy being in the woods that much?"
"I am half wood-elf, after all."
Father and son sighed, knowing if nothing could be done, fairly quickly, Legolas would end up moving into the forest eventually. "Yes, you are," Thranduil finally agreed. "And it is time for us to go to dinner."
Legolas nodded with a faint smile, but still felt odd walking down, on stone steps, into the vast cavernous hall. He was once again hit by too much, and closed his eyes in an attempt to bring his haywire senses under control, only to find that the removal of one sense only enhanced his others to a painful intensity.
"Legolas? Are you well?"
He smiled and opened his eyes. Eirthriel frowned in concern, lifting one hand to his cheek. "I am quite well, dear sister." He kissed her forehead after taking her hand. "It is just a bit different than what I have grown accustomed to."
"That would explain why your group members are the only elves not in the thick of things," she murmured.
He glanced where she indicated, saw Dareklien and Ertelen hesitate before forcing themselves, their steps slow and uncertain, into the midst of their family and friends. Miranol was mostly unaffected, but he dragged Oleydya with him to sit with his family and friends, since they knew she had none here. Looking around a bit more, he found Nenya hovering in the shadows, her eyes almost panicked as she took in the crowded room. Her breathing was too rapid, her pose too tense for his liking, now that he knew how relaxed she usually was while in her home.
He smiled at Eirthriel. "I shall collect her," he murmured, leaving his sister standing by the head table as he wove his way through the elves who would have paused him, reaching the she-elf's side before being paused. "Your seat is at the head table again," he informed her.
Her eyes flashed to his before she went back to studying the room. A slight shiver went over her skin, starting a series of trembles that made the dress she had been loaned shimmer unsteadily in the light around them. "I don't think I could eat," she answered at last, her voice tight.
As bad as it was for him, how many times worse it must be for her, he realized suddenly. "Come with me," he murmured. He urged her forward with a slight pressure, but she only went about a half step before she stopped again. "Trust me," he whispered, angling his head so she could hear him over the overwhelming deluge of noise. He pressed her to walk with him, and got her to Eirthriel without mishap, though several elves started to interrupt their progress. One look at Nenya's dark eyes was enough to make them back away.
Eirthriel smiled slightly when they arrived. "You have your choice of seats tonight, since Oleydya has abandoned us in favor of Miranol."
Nenya swallowed and looked back at the mass of movement before them. She closed her eyes and shuddered again. Legolas, his hand still at the small of her back, could feel it too well.
"She's not sitting with us this evening," he murmured. He plucked a plate from a passing elf and passed it to Nenya in time to catch a goblet of wine from another. "Follow me," he instructed, putting his hand once again att he small of her back when she didn't immediately move to follow him.
When Nenya guessed where they were going, she gave a half-running step before forcing herself to slow down again. Legolas chuckled softly over her shoulder, and touched her arm to guide her to a side of the balcony. The freer air of the woods filled their lungs, and they both drew it into themselves in large, grateful breaths, before relaxing into the chairs tucked into the wall of the mountain, nearly invisible from any where else on the balcony. Nenya closed her eyes in relief, having dropped the plate onto the table in front of them. "Thank you," she breathed, feeling the throbbing of her head recede to manageable levels.
He too waited until his head felt normal, and then sighed and slowly eased his weight back onto his feet so he could return to the dinner awaiting him. "I have to go. I assume you know your way…?"
"Mmm," she agreed softly, smiling slightly.
He paused before he would have left, realizing the silence around them. "Why don't they sing to comfort you tonight?"
"There have been no attacks since we left. The elves no longer fear to walk into the forest."
"Ah," he murmured, bowing his head slightly to her before walking back to the hall. He sighed slightly in annoyance as the assault on his senses began anew, and his second thought was to dull those senses with a bit of wine since his first was unacceptable—to escape. Looking at his seat, he debated whether his duty really was enough for him to remain inside tonight. In addition to the noise, the sounds and smells, Teraien was sitting in the seat beside Legolas's own.
With a sigh Legolas took his seat, reaching for his wine goblet as the serving elves put his plate before him.
Unable to eat much, unable to drink much, and basically unable to hear himself think, the meal crawled by with painful slowness. The other group members had relaxed, but they were around family that was exuberantly welcoming them back. The family beside him was doing his best to ignore him. Not that Legolas minded. That was eminently preferable to the subtle barbs and taunts Teraien usually sent his way.
As soon as was acceptable, Legolas slipped to the winding staircase that would take him up to the peak of the mountain. When he opened the door, he startled an elf standing there.
"Nenya? How did you get up here?" he asked, frowning. The staff had been propped against the door as ever it was, so using the stairs wasn't an option. He glanced down at the balcony he had left her on, and saw several elven couples there, enjoying the evening in the company of each other and the stars. He shook his head. "You climbed up here rather than go to your room?"
"What room?" she retorted softly, her arms crossed over her middle before she tilted her head back to see the stars. She swayed slightly.
Legolas steadied her automatically, frowning. "How much did you drink?"
"What was in the cup," she murmured softly, trying, and failing, to find her balance. She apparently decided she couldn't because he was still holding onto her. "Would you let go—"
"Just so I could watch you fall off the mountain? I think not." He held her more tightly as she began to struggle, somewhat weakly, which concerned him even more greatly than he had been.
"I wouldn't… fall…" her eyes ceased to focus on him, her words dropping to the faintest whisper before she slid into an unconscious heap, held upright only by the hold he had on her.
He sighed and looked down at her with a shake of his head. "Right. Never let her drink anything, Legolas. Never, ever, let her drink anything," he muttered, berating himself. Here had been nothing of such a nature at her home. She probably hadn't known the drink he'd given her would do this to her.
He sighed again and shifted her to a more proper sitting position, her head lolling forward, the flexibility she possessed making it so he had to catch her head rather than have it smack the stone floor. After some rather bonehead ideas on his part, he managed to pick her up. He started walking to the door, only to see it was shut. "Of course it is," he muttered, having a sinking feeling he would be unable to open the door with the few fingers he could shift free of Nenya's unconscious form.