Thanks to those three faithful reviewers. Here's the promised update! Juvinile delinquent: I thought sure I fixed that. I noticed it, I changed it... I think I hit save and preview... hm... Oh well. It's fixed now! ; )
And, as ever, thanks to Nea for trying to help this story as much as she can.
Her head hurt.
That was all she knew when she first drifted back into consciousness, closing her eyes to block the light.
The next thing she realized was her memory was fuzzy between having finished her meal and ending up… wherever she was. Sheets beneath her, a pillow under her cheek and the heavy warmth of a blanket over her, there was a vast difference between this and the stone she recalled seeing last.
The air was stuffy but quiet, almost respectfully still, if air could be said to be so when it didn't refer to the air of people. Yeah, she decided, something's not right here. Her thoughts were going haywire, and not really making sense, even to her, though of course she knew what she meant. It was just… her head hurt and was fuzzy, and every time she tried to clear up the fuzz her head just hurt more.
Deciding she was not ready to face the confusing world around her in such a state, she sighed softly and buried her face in the pillow, closing her eyes more tightly.
"I thought I heard you stirring."
Nenya's eyes snapped open, and she recoiled from the light, putting a hand in front of her eyes as she squinted around the room. Even as she did so, her sluggish mind tried to figure the voice out. Male, and somewhat familiar… "Legolas?" she asked, having to clear her throat to say anything, and even then, it came out as a bit of a rasp.
"How's your head?"
How'd he know? "Hideous," she rasped, trying to locate him in the room. She only spotted him when he moved.
A few blinks showed he was sitting in a chair near a bookcase, and now replaced a book before picking something else off the shelf. He carried it over, and she focused on it for something to do. It was a pouch. He opened it and poured some powder into a goblet that had been waiting by the bed. After giving it a swirl, he handed it over. "Drink," he ordered softly, his voice quiet.
She was thankful for that. The sound of her own voice hurt her head. She struggled upright, and almost gave up as the blood crashed through her head, making her painfully aware of every heartbeat. A moan escaped her, and the dizzy disorientation that accompanied the pain nearly knocked her back to the bed.
Legolas caught her with one arm, cradling her head gently in his palm while bringing the goblet to her lips. For the life of her she couldn't figure out why he wanted her to drink it so much it couldn't wait until her head stopped hurting so badly. There were herbs one could boil to get rid of headaches, but she couldn't think of any right now. She couldn't think of much of anything, to be perfectly truthful. "Drink," he whispered again, tilting the glass slightly so she really didn't have a choice.
After a few swallows she pushed it away, and he allowed her to do so, setting the goblet aside before getting her settled, upright, against the headboard of the bed. She carefully closed her eyes and rearranged her head, trying to keep it still.
"Better?" he asked suddenly.
She frowned slightly and opened her eyes. She blinked at the absence of pain, slowly moving her head slightly. Nothing. "Yes," she breathed. Sense flooded back into her brain, and she reached for the goblet, identifying the scent as one of the herbs she would have looked for if she had been capable. "Thank you."
He nodded and got up, returning to his chair by the bookshelf.
Senses restored, she tucked her loosened hair behind her ears and looked around. She was in a bedroom, which was obvious from the presence of a bed in the room. Brilliant deduction. But now she noticed other things, that made her uneasiness with her lack of memory grow.
A bow and quiver resting by one wall. A tattered hunting cloak folded on another chair, with a pair of well worn boots off to the side, the toes at crazy angles to each other. The bookshelf full of books, which Legolas was again reading from. The shirtless prince himself.
He was too comfortable here.
"Where am I?"
He glanced up, blinking slightly to pull himself out of the world of his book. "My room," he answered absently, looking back at his book.
She drew in a quick breath and sent a quick prayer to the stars before asking her next question. "What happened last night?"
His eyes lifted a tad too quickly for her liking, focusing on her with a frown. "What do you remember?"
"That's not what I asked," she murmured, trying not to let color run into her ears. To hide any that might have risen against her will she unbound the few intact braids, letting the dark curtain swing over her ears and partially hide her face.
"You passed out, and I carried you here."
"Is that all?"
He lifted a brow at her. "Basically."
"Basically?" she asked hesitantly.
"The walls would tell you I cursed more than usual, trying to get you down the staircase. They were simply not made for carrying an inert elf down them. One person wearing a bow has to be careful not to scrape his weapon against the walls."
She frowned her incomprehension. "What stairs?"
"The stairs from the high exit from the mountain. You didn't use them to go up, so I doubt you knew of them."
Her headache was threatening to return. She touched her temples in confusion. "Then how did I get up?"
"You climbed the mountain, he answered, getting up again, bringing her the goblet once more.
She didn't protest finishing it off. "Why did I pass out?"
"My guess would be too much wine."
Wine? When had she ever drank wine? Realization dawned, her eyes widening. "You gave me wine?"
He winced as if he had been berated with that already. "I didn't think at the time how much it could affect you. Believe me, I have sworn to keep you from ever tasting it again."
"I appreciate that," she murmured, easing back against the headboard as the fluid medicine relieved her returning headache. "That's all that happened?" she asked, wanting to be sure.
His eyes darkened slightly. "Nice to know you find the thought so repulsive." He got up and waked to stand before a tapestry of the outside world. No windows, of course. Living in a mountain definitely had its drawbacks.
Sighing softly she closed her eyes, and pushed herself out of the bed. She wavered a bit, but the herbs held her steady, lending her strength to cross the room, her hand curving over his wrist. "There cannot be anything more than friendship between us, Legolas."
"You struggle against that."
"Because the thing that decrees we must not be any more than friends would also serve to make us enemies."
He frowned, turning slightly to look down at her. "You speak of something more than your fear of being rejected?"
Her eyes flew to his face, but she couldn't deny his summation of her, though she hated the word fear. "Yes," she agreed shortly. "There is a bond between us, which cannot be crossed to become more than friends. It would be easy to cross into enemies."
His frown grew darker. He turned and caught her, his hands closing over her upper arms with barely restrained strength. "Are you evil?"
"No," she answered, frowning back at him.
"Do you enjoy evil?"
"No," she shook her head. "Of course not."
"Of course not," he agreed. "Do you believe my answers to be yes?"
"No."
"Then why do you insist we are more likely to be enemies than friends?"
She sighed and closed her eyes against the blue fire of his. "You will despise me for not explaining things to you, Legolas."
"Then explain them now."
"I cannot."
"Why not?"
"Because it is not just my secret to tell. It cannot come out until the time is right, and it is definitely not time."
Legolas was ready to shake her. He'd threatened it on occasion before, but he had never come this close. A faint sound came from beyond, but he was ignoring everything except the dimming sparkle of black eyes.
"LEGOLAS!"
He jumped and let go of her, automatically shielding her with his body as he faced whatever threat had just arrived. He blinked and relaxed when he saw his father.
"What do you think you are doing?" Thanduil barked, making Legolas flinch for the noise.
"Nothing, Thranduil," Nenya spoke up sharply from behind him.
"I know nothing when I see it, and that didn't look like it!"
She didn't waver as she walked closer to his father, didn't hesitate. "Calm yourself, Thranduil!" she shouted back at him, though without heat.
Thranduil's face, red in anger, went darker for a moment before going strangely white.
Nenya nodded in satisfaction, her voice hard. "If you are done insulting our integrity, I shall leave so you may discuss whatever you came to speak with your son about."
Thranduil sighed softly, his voice oddly humble as he apologized. "Forgive me, Nenya. This caught me off guard."
"The same could be said for me. I unknowingly consumed some wine last night, and apparently passed out in Legolas's presence.
Thranduil nodded, and Nenya left. Thranduil turned to one very confused prince awaiting an explanation of some sort for the odd behavior just displayed. "Friendship with her would be good, Legolas, but no more may come of any relationship with her."
"Why, Father?" he asked, more irritated that they kept him in the dark than that they presumed to control him in such a way. She may be interesting, but romance? They weren't even friends yet. If they ever would be. "What is it in her that you find off-putting, that she also things would place her at a distance from all other elves?"
"What?" Thranduil frowned. "I don't know what she told you—"
Legolas sighed and shook his head. "She tells me nothing, Father. Even when extricating herself from what she views as an impossible situation that wasn't there in the first place she said only that it could not be."
"She is correct."
"I've gathered that you believe it. What I want to know is why you and she both believe there is something so fundamentally wrong with her that she is unworthy of having elves as friends."
Thranduil frowned darkly. "Why would you believe that?"
"Because she has as much as said that," Legolas motioned in irritation with one hand. "She closes the world out for fear of being rejected by it, but refuses to tell me why. She doesn't hardly even speak to the rest of the group."
Thranduil sighed and shook his head. A great sorrow seemed to fall onto his shoulders, and weary eyes looked back at his son for an instant before falling away once more. "Her mother was as wrong as I was," he murmured softly, frowning at a corner, at the small bit of dust missed by the maid. "She cannot undo the damage she has done." He focused on Legolas. "You shall have to find a way to befriend her."
"How, if she won't speak to me? She shuts herself in a cage, locked away from the rest of the world." He sighed and crossed his arms tightly over his bare chest.
Thranduil tilted his head for a moment, studying the annoyance, the impatience, the concern and fear in his son for the elf in question. "Funny thing about cages, Legolas. They are locked on the outside."
Legolas frowned and blinked, before understanding flickered in his silvery-blue eyes. A slight smile curved his lips. He nodded. "Thank you, Father."