Disclaimer: I disclaim. :o)
Author's note: Eru, that was really a Holiday! The whole week of holidays, to be exact. I love birthdays! (rolling myself into a ball and purring) Thanks for your reviews. Thanks for being patient. Just thanks. :o)
Deana: Thank you, thank you, thank you. :o))) It's a pity I couldn't share my cake with you. It was three-storeyed and ve-r-r-ry tasty.
Faerlas: Full of surprises, aren't you? Do you, by chance, have any theoretical material on your language? I'd very much like to see it, if you don't mind, of course. I'm a language-maniac. :o))) My e-mail is posted on my profile-page.
Rennjenn: :o))) Well, that's exactly I hoped somebody would think. "If in the beginning of the play there is a gun hanging on the wall, in the end of the play it will shoot." It's pleasant that you paid attention to it. :o)
Chapter seventeen.
Making promises…
The thicket was full of hushed whispering and subdued melodious laughter. Everyone was happy. Everyone anticipated the greatest event of the last hundred years. The elves were eager to hail the new Vala, because his arrival meant that soon they all would leave for the blessed land and meet their kinsfolk not to part with those they loved again. And there was only one elf who found no joy in everyone's exultation.
The dark foliage - inlaid with the heavy drops of dew, exhaling sweet midsummer smell - didn't gladden him.
The walls of the palace didn't shelter him anymore.
He was burnt out to ashes.
He was neither surprised at the unexpected end of their mission, nor hurt that it was fulfilled without his help. And though his face kept a seemly official and concerned expression, while he was standing at the gates of the palace with his father and all the others, who were waiting for the promised half-god, his mind was as empty as his halted heart.
He felt somebody's hand on his shoulder, but didn't look back.
"Are you well, Legolas?"
"Quite," responded he shortly. Indeed, his father chose a strange moment to inquire about his state.
"If you are not, I shall meet them myself," suggested the King of Mirkwood, "You may go."
The younger elf slowly shook his head, watching the sparkles of first torches, glimpsing in the depth of the forest.
"I shall stay here. I wouldn't like to miss them," said he blankly, but suddenly knit his brows, "Them? I thought there's only one man…"
"His family is going with him," explained his father, coming closer not to raise his voice, because the murmur among the impatient elves was growing louder and louder.
"They won't endure the way," still, was it the affair of his?
The King tried to urge his homagers to calm down. His gestures, however, didn't show particular austerity.
"He said he had given them immortality," dropped he, his tone strikingly casual for such a statement.
"Do you think it's wise of him to waste powers without even reaching Valinor?"
"He seems to be mighty enough. In any case it's beyond my abilities to dissuade him from it. He is …," the elf paused, for some reason throwing a discontented glance at the palace, "He is a very wayward young man."
The torches between the trees were getting closer. Many assumed a dignified air, and Legolas inwardly jeered at this assentation. He began to regret his refusal to leave.
The bluish-grey locks appeared in the first row of the crowd. His heart willfully skipped a bit and his eyes against his wish turned there, searching, begging… But there were no human features among the glowing impeccability of the sea of elven faces.
Why was he still indulging himself in hopeless desires? It was over.
"There's one more term of his coming with us," said the King for no apparent reason.
"What kind of term?" asked Legolas with utter indifference.
"He is afraid he won't be able to take care of his family there. He wants us to do it."
The Prince of Mirkwood shrugged his shoulders.
"It's not so hard," stated he, continuously staring at Edwen, who looked curiously lost.
"He is not sure of that. He wants them to be treated fittingly to what they deserve to his own notion. He offers to relate our families."
"And how does he imagine such a relation?" wondered Legolas with a hint of interest.
"He decided that to marry off his sister to someone of the royal blood is the best way to do it," replied king Thranduil matter-of-factly, "You are the supposed candidate."
Legolas turned round, blushing with anger and remonstrance.
"No!" snapped he, his fists clenched so tightly that the bones in his fingers crunched, "Absolutely not!"
"Calm down," ordered the older elf, at the same time putting on his best regal smile and nodding to somebody behind the prince, "If you are so much against it, though I see no reasons for you denial, let it be Edwen. He had always been ambitious. This marriage will suit him. And now show your face to our guests, please."
His son unseeingly obeyed. Edwen? Edwen will marry this unknown girl?
For a second a vicious thought disfigured his lips with a wry smirk, a thought which seemed to give him wings. If it was really so, then his uncle was as far from getting Rexia as he himself. She would never belong to him!
But… She loved Edwen. It would make her suffer. She didn't deserve that. He wouldn't let himself cause a single tear of hers. He couldn't bring her the same pain, he was coming through.
Legolas raised his chin and forced himself to look at the elves, who stood with their heads bowed, holding their hands to their hearts, as four human figures were moving up to him along the living gallery. Two youngsters and two middle-aged people…
He had expected that the Vala would be much as a common mortal, but still couldn't help but surprise at the harmlessly-looking young man with broad shoulders and short, slightly dishevelled hair. The man was somehow familiar to Legolas… Yes, it was the same boy he met yesterday, chasing Rexia. Now it became clear, to where he was heading in such a hurried manner…
The Vala smiled at him, showing perfectly white teeth, and leaned to tell something to the young woman by his side. Unconscious, Legolas followed his movement…
She was not tall, though seemed well-set. Her face was that of what was called pellucid. Clear-cut features, high cheek-bones, dark brows, fair skin… A blank page, where one could draw anything. While it remained white and untouched, it was a picture to look at and not to remember. Her ashy hair was carefully braided, obviously by the elves.
Their gazes crossed and she quickly dropped her eyelashes, but not quickly enough for him not to notice a gauzy shadow of triumph, looming in the dark-grey eyes. So she knew how high she was to fly from now on…
"When are you going to hold the marriage ceremony?" he would do it for Rexia, since there was nothing else she needed from him.
"Right now," his father barely moved his lips, because their … guest came up too close to continue the conversation, "Everything is ready."
"I agree," said Legolas resolutely.
Without a word the King went forward and exchanged civil bows with the young man and his family.
"Hail the great Vala!" proclaimed he solemnly, "And hail the bride of Prince Legolas!"
The crowd burst out with happy cheers and incomprehensible outcries, as Legolas stepped up and offered his hand to the grey-eyed girl.
"Hail the new Princess!" he declared, his voice threatening to break, "Suilo Aranel!"