Disclaimer: Don't own it. And lazy to explain why. :o)
Author's note: I had a free minute and decided to gladden you and myself a little. :o) Thanks everyone, who is reading it. You are wonderful.
Deana: You had had Legolas in your house for all this time and hadn't shared with us yet?
:oo (I'm fainting) It's so unfair… Do be more considerate next time. :o)))
Inwe Tasartir: I'm already hiding in the furthest corner of my room, scared to death by your promises. :o))) Lol. Thank you. :o)
Faerlas: It is called "choleric temperament", if psychologists are not mistaken. :o) And I'm rather that of a sanguinic person. I envy your energy. :o)
HyperSquishy: Actually, I was waiting for somebody to ask this question at least three chapters ago. :o))) Read and find out. (Hope I'm not too evil).
Chapter fourteen.
Run for your light…
Trees seemed to fly past him, flitting so fast, as if his legs turned into wings. Branches were hitting his face and clutching at his tunic, when he took dives under their tight bows. Grass was moaning, bowing down under his soles, yet he didn't slacken his run.
He must find her. He must stop her… He must make her come back…
He didn't think how. There was only one thing he knew for sure – no sacrifice was too much for him to keep her near. He would give up even his restored vision, if it could bring her back, because without her nothing made sense to him. He didn't make sense.
He would lie at her threshold as a watchdog…
If she wanted him to beg, he would…
Anything for the happiness of touching her hand once more. He would deserve it…
The elf cursed his own thoughtlessness. Why didn't he ask Ralon where they lived? It could save him so much time. Though, when that boy first came instead of the elves from the palace with some trifle message of his father, he himself was too occupied with his woeful state to be interested in the affairs of mortal kids. He befriended Ralon just for want of anything better to do. How could he know that five years later he, the high-born elf, would sell his heart and his soul into the slavery for the sake of the cruel child, who was this youngster's sister?
Streaks of light between crooked trunks grew wider, and Legolas caught sight of the first house. He thought he heard somebody's hurried steps…
In the next minute a tall figure emerged from behind the trees, moving towards him on a neck-breaking speed, which was unlikely inferior to his one. The running – a dark-haired young man, for some reason dressed after the elvish fashion – slowed down his pace and cast a totally wild glance of clear grey eyes at Legolas. His face was pallid - he made an impression of being frightened out of his existence. For a moment the elf believed that the youth intended to tell him something, but the latter, not uttering a single word, darted into the thicket as if chased by the army of balrogs.
Legolas would stop if didn't have similar beasts behind his shoulders.
A mad race brought him into the street, where he had to break into rapid steps. A wide lane between the houses was full of people, each busy with his or her own matters. Some of them turned their heads in the direction of a panting elf, who seemed to have appeared from nowhere, but soon curiosity faded on their faces and they quite forgot about him.
A wrinkled old man bowed a little, passing by him and was going to continue his unhurried pace, when Legolas tapped him on the shoulder.
"Excuse me, my good man," hailed he politely, "Where can I find the house of lady Rexia, the healer?"
At the name of Rexia the tattered face beamed up. The old man raised a trembling hand, his finger pointing somewhere down the street.
"Count off seven houses and turn to the right, noble master," cawed he genially, "Yes, count off seven houses… And don't worry, my dear sir, don't worry. That girl works wonders, she does. Dragged me out of the grave, Eru bless her…"
"Eru bless her," echoed Legolas sincerely, "Thank you, old father."
The senile man burst out laughing, his voice hoarse and croaking as a dry cough.
"Making fun of me, noble sir, you are. I dare say in comparison to you I'm young enough to call me "kid"."
Legolas chuckled in spite of himself and quickly followed the indicated road.
Six, seven… That's it!
A pretty two-storeyed house, surrounded by well-groomed trees, stood at the very edge of the town, bordering upon the dark wall of the forest. He flew up the small stairs, which were leading to the front door and strongly knocked at the heavy lacquered desks. There was no answer, and Legolas knocked once more, this time more impatiently.
"Are you in any misfortune, noble master?" an inquisitive voice sounded on his right. The elf whipped round – behind the low fence, separating Rexia's house with the next one, there was a middle-aged woman with a little boy, who was timidly hiding behind her skirt.
"I need to see lady Rexia. Please, where is she?"
"She have went away!" declared the boy unexpectedly. His mother frowned in false deprecation, but it was clear that she was proud of her child's quick-wittedness.
"Away?" asked Legolas in a cheerless tone. He was late. The disappointment, which arose in him at that thought, tasted unbearably bitter. He leaned his elbows on the banisters of a small verandah and squeezed his temples, feeling utterly devastated.
"Are you unwell?" the woman wanted to know, sympathetic notes mixing with hints of curiosity in her question.
"Me?" a lucky idea crossed his mind. This woman seemed to be very well aware of Rexia's affairs. She could have been useful, "Oh, yes. People advised me to come here. I'm afraid she is my last hope…"
He didn't even have to feign despair in his voice.
"I'm so sorry," compassionated the interlocutress, "But, noble master, Rexia doesn't heal elves."
"And what about Prince Legolas?" offered the elf insistently, "I was told she had managed to cure him."
"Bumpkin's gossip!" the woman waved "prince Legolas" aside, as a troublesome fly, "If you asked me, I'd say it was a pretext for her and that prince to see each other. Poor girl just didn't want to be pulled to pieces by our taletellers."
"Do you think there was something between them?" he didn't know why he was wasting time with the garrulous neighbour.
"Rather! It is as clear as daylight!" it was obvious that the woman mounted her hobby-horse, "How else would you call it, if a girl goes about with black looks, and then is seen home in the middle of the night by a good-looking elf, and then stands on the threshold, talking to him and smiling, and then seems eager to shower everybody with kisses…? And the next day comes back with a gorgeous ring on her finger… Forgive me, noble sir, but only a blind man would say that there was nothing between those two!"
Legolas slowly drew himself up, staring at her in disbelief. Her words were nonsense… In the middle of the night? Talking and smiling?
"You must be mistaken, milady," muttered he quietly, "Prince Legolas was really seriously ill."
"Well, that didn't prevent him from coming up here a couple of hours ago and waiting for Rexia… He had the keys, by the way. And now will you persist in persuading me that they are strangers?"
"Waiting for Rexia? You mean that she left with him?" it was suddenly hard to breathe.
"Now that's what I've been trying to tell you for fifteen minutes already!" the woman seemed triumphant, "So if you need the girl, search for her at your Prince's. They went away half an hour ago. And there were several more elves with them."
The elf closed his eyes. The ground was slipping away from under his feet. Lie! Slander - everything, from the first word to the last one!
"How can you be sure that it was him?" his voice was failing him.
The question must have sounded too harsh, because the woman knit her brows and snorted, putting her hands on her hips in an insolent gesture.
"And who else! You know what? You're just too arrogant to believe that your precious dapple-eyed prince can fall in love with a simple girl! And you know, I have news for you - he can! He simply carried her out of the house, like she was made of glass. I wish somebody would treat me with the same care!"
A plaintive child's cry was heard from one of the windows of the neighboring house, and the woman, still seething in the righteous wrath, rushed to the help of her unlucky offspring.
Crushed, thunderstruck Legolas made several uncertain steps and sat down on the stairs, bringing his hands to his face. His eyes were sorely burning, there was a lump in his throat…Rexia and Edwen…
It was too amiss to be true. It was too absurd to be falsehood…
Why didn't he die that day when the orcs came after him?
"Rexia…" whispered he, shrinking as her name slid down his lips, like her lips used to do it. As if she could hear it… As if she could come back at his wretched entreaty… As if!
Calad nin, why did you do that to me?
He wanted to scream and howl in pain, like a wounded animal… To plead all the highest powers either to make it all just a nightmare, or to kill him there and then.
He didn't even suspect that something could hurt so much. He wasn't aware that there was abyss deeper and darker than the one he thought he had been saved from. How could he know that all this time he had just been walking on the very edge of it and only now fell into its hungry mouth?
…Jealousy, all-consuming, dreadful, maddening jealousy and sorrow…
She had pitied him then… Not once she had manifested her bent for reckless pity. She played this game until the consequences became intolerable.
And then she just threw him out of her life, erasing everything she had said and done and forgetting him as a thoughtless mistake. Not a sign of regret, not a kiss good-bye. He wouldn't ask for more, he wouldn't dare!
Anything but that indifference.
A tearless sob worked its way up his throat, and he closed his eyes, biting his lips till they bled and feeling nothing but the darkness, which beset him like an impermeable wall. And there was no longer any light, bright enough to chase it away. Not for him…
Calad nin…