Disclaimer: Rather tired to say this – don't own anything, except my computer and my twisted imagination.
Author's note: Your reviews are welcomed – one and all.
Deana: Poor Rexia! She doesn't have much choice. :o) ( Is your "lol" a good "lol" or shall I go and hang myself?)
Nautika: Thank you for understanding. :o)) I shall keep it in mind.
Chapter four.
To say "I'm sorry".
Indeed, she didn't care. But others, unfortunately, did. For six days Rexia had been enjoying life and freedom – to a certain extent, taking into consideration human patients, until her father called her up to him, his eyes serious and deprecative.
"Aren't you going to visit Prince Legolas once more?" he asked, obviously knowing the answer beforehand.
"No, I'm not," said Rexia calmly. She was determined not to give up. "And there are reasons for it."
Seeing her stubbornness, her father just smiled. It was he who brought it up in her. And it was he who could manage it – or at least flattered himself with the hope that he could. He pointed at the chair next to his own.
"Sit down, child. I'd very much like to hear your reasons."
Rexia pursed her lips, but obeyed.
"I have no time," prevented she, "Our neighbour's boy caught cold again – they asked me to come an hour ago."
"They can wait," reassured her the older man, receiving an annoyed gaze in respond, "and please, don't look at me like this, it won't help."
"As if I don't know," chuckled Rexia. She just couldn't stay strict, when it came to her father. In such moments she felt like a little puppy, bouncing up and down and trying to bite an enormous good-natured mastiff. "Dad, I'm tired. I barely dragged myself home after just trying to do something with that blindness of his. Do you want me to go mad?"
He shook his head. This sign of agreement with her, however, didn't set the girl at ease – she knew such conversations too well to feel satisfied. The next remark of her father proved her right.
"You know, it was the same with people... At first… But now you are strong enough to heal hundreds of them."
"He is not human, Dad!" exploded Rexia, "He is … he is… a weird creature!"
Her father knit his brow… She just glared at him, waiting for the continuation. To her surprise he suddenly gave up.
"Very well," he said, as his face took a cool and detached expression, "but at least go there and tell him about your decision in person. No matter how weird he is, he doesn't deserve to be treated like that."
"Later," Rexia jumped up, glad that the talk was through.
"Now," snubbed he.
It has been six days since she last came… Minutes were slipping by, flowing into hours, hours turned
into centuries. Centuries of waiting… Of hoping… and of hopelessness…
He gave a start each time the door opened – but there were only the messengers of his father, who greeted him. They brought food and clothes and the latest news, and then went away again. He did not talk to them.
Why was she so cruel? Or may be she was ill? Please, come! – he pleaded, - don't say you left me!
For a moment he thought he heard the light steps, and yet did not believe his ears. He refused to experience the pain of disappointment once more…
But he forgot about it, when somebody knocked…
She made out a faint cry, some noise, and the door flung open.
Oh … dear … Valar…
"Legolas!" gasped she, terrified at the sorry sight he was.
His skin was even paler, than it seemed that first day, and under his eyes there were deep black shadows. He looked as if he had not been sleeping for several nights. But at the sound of her voice his face lit up. He stepped closer.
"You came back…," whispered the elf, reaching out to touch her. She shrank back and saw fear and hurt change his clear-cut features. Slowly, as if hit by an arrow, Legolas fell on his knees, bowing down before her.
"Stay…" said he, so quietly, that she barely heard it, "I beg you."
Rexia suddenly had a nasty kind of feeling somewhere in her throat. She knew this sensation – first there would be a hard lump, rising up and not letting her breathe or speak, then her eyes would start to burn… The girl was cruelly biting her lower lip, trying to prevent the inevitable. She wouldn't give up… Legolas was still on his knees, and to her horror, Rexia saw a tear coursing down his cheek – and he, just like her, was torturing his lips in order to hide his weeping… That was more than she could bear.
And she knelt near him, her hand caressing his dishevelled hair. The elf began whispering something very rapidly, telling her something she couldn't understand, because blood shot in her ears, and her eyes were dim with her own tears of shame for making him suffer so much.
"Stop!" pleaded she, close to hysteria, but he didn't and she had to put her finger on his lips. "Stop…"
Legolas broke off. Rexia realized, she had to say something, and the right words came so clearly, as if it was not her to pronounce them:
"Aranno." (I'm sorry)
It was already dark, when Rexia came back home. Entering the room, she understood that there was somebody waiting for her and smiled a tired and ironical smile.
"Is everything alright?" asked the anticipant, "Did you speak to him?"
"You won," answered she matter-of-factly before going upstairs to her room.
Her father hemmed with satisfaction and returned to his book and a cup of hot and steaming tea.
A/n : "Aranno" is closer to "Forgive me", since it's imperative, but I guess the sense is clear. :o)
Ihope you liked this little bit, and your key-board didn't suffer too much from the tears shed onto it. :o) Review, OK?
Yours, Adamanta.