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Niphrediel slept for perhaps an hour, at most. She watched as the dim blue lights shining through her windows eventually brighten into sunlight. The silence in her bedchamber was brought to an end by the sound of birds as they began to awaken, and a flock of white butterflies began to dance in the sunshine as it lost it's pre-morning hue of orange outside of her windows. She did not notice the waking of Sarilya. She did not hear her handmaid stretch like a cat against the mattress of her long-bodied sofa, or hear her happy yawn as she propped herself up against the curved back of the elegant couch.
"Good morning!" whispered a cheerful Sarilya, as she yawned once more.
Niphrediel's reverie was broken, and she looked away from the window. She gathered herself up against the fluffy pillows she had neglected through the night, and shifted her lethargic stare over to the morning-friendly Sarilya. "Morning," she replied, her voice matching the expression of her face; deadpan, and somewhat on the borders of ominous.
"Oh, darn it!" Sarilya abruptly let out, as she got a better view of Niphrediel's face. She pulled back the silken blankets that kept her warm, and moved over to sit upon the edge of Niphrediel's bed. "You did not sleep!" she stated Niphrediel's crime, turning Niphrediel's chin to the side with her hand; studying her profile.
Niphrediel did not deny Sarilya's claim, though she was rather certain she had fallen to sleep briefly sometime during the night.
"Look at you," Sarilya sighed sadly, removing her hand and letting Niphrediel's face return to its prior angle. "The skin around your eyes is so dark it makes your complexion lighten in comparison. Some folk say death around the eyes is attractive, but I cannot really stand it. It makes someone look bloody overcast even when they smile," Sarilya critiqued with distaste. "We will have to put powder around your eyes or something."
"No need," Niphrediel waved her hand in dismissal of the idea. "I do not have the inclination to leave my chambers this morning."
"This is so you will not have to be present for the fun and games for the children?" Sarilya predicted, eyebrows raised that Niphrediel would brush away time with Rivanon, who had been another whose time with Niphrediel was kept brief. "Niphrediel, it is going to last all day."
Niphrediel did not appreciate Sarilya's lack of receipt. "Well, then I will stay in all day."
"And what will I say?" Sarilya asked, before gesturing to the dress that was ready for Niphrediel to be dressed into on the far armchair. The gown was predominately black silk, with a white lace underdress, something alike to a belt wrapped beneath would be the breast of the garment, made of the same black lace. The skirt parting began early just bellow the chest, and the necklace was not very low— but wide. "I apologise for the absence of my lady, she is sleeping?"
"I apologise for the absence of my lady as she is taken with flu," Niphrediel snapped matter-of-factly, before flicking the blankets back and stepping off her bed. "Make up something, I do not care what."
Sarilya watched Niphrediel walk from her bed without impressment. "Fine," she muttered. "If you would rather hide like a child in your bedroom, I shan't stop you."
"I am not hiding, Sarilya," Niphrediel retorted, looking over at Sarilya with a frown that told her that she was not in the mood to set her facts straight. "I just do not have the energy to be cordial. Send everyone my condolences."
Sarilya sighed, but accepted Niphrediel's explanation even if she did think that the girl had better get used to having to be sociable. "Fine," she said. "But you better have a bath anyway… if you grow tired of your confinements, it would not be right walking outside looking like an idler."
"I will have one later on in the day," said Niphrediel from her window, opening the shudders and squinting in the light. She crossed her arms as she gazed out, the lack of sleeves on her long white nightgown of linen enabling her to feel the texture of her own skin and nothing else. She looked back at Sarilya after a moment. "You should go and get ready."
"Right, you are," Sarilya said as she stood up and retied her bed-ravaged hair with a ribbon. "I will see that some breakfast, lunch and dinner is brought up for you. If not by me: then another servant. Without you present, I will not be expected to stay in the gardens for too long… I will return in a few hours."
Niphrediel simply nodded, and watched Sarilya quickly gather her things. Perhaps she predicted that Niphrediel would step out of her room sometime during the day, for she briefly stared at the laid-out gown in contemplation, before moving towards the door. Sarilya decided not to place the garment back in the wardrobe.
Sarilya stiffened before walking out, and looked back at Niphrediel. Her expression was much softer, and her gaze was incredibly apologetic. "I am sorry for my rough approach," she said to Niphrediel then, her voice conveying her genuine regret. "Just… do not ever think I would not be understanding of your problems with… well…. you-know-what, my lady. I am with you in this, you know— I am there for you in whatever way you wish me to be." Sarilya curtseyed formally to her princess, before leaving the room.
Niphrediel stiffened, as the room grew cold without Sarilya's presence. Sooner then when she had planned, she moved to the bathing hall and ran her a bath. But, instead of getting out— Niphrediel snatched a towel she could rest her head on, and let herself bask in the temporary weightlessness.
Staring up at the ceiling, Niphrediel listened to the calm rhythm of water tricking from her long limbs each time she would let her arms raise over the water level. It was the perfect environment to think… and, despite Niphrediel's reluctance to think on a few pressing matters— her brain did not seem to acknowledge her lack of zest.
Niphrediel's hands ran over her head. She washed the skin there, as well as the flesh of her legs; in an attempt to wash the past night away. But it did no good. If anything, her actions brought the memories back with more detail. She felt lips against her skin as she scrubbed her neckline, and caught the vision of a face too beautiful to belong to a mortal out of the corner of her eye as she pressed his mouth against hers.
Niphrediel knew she had felt much better when she had opened her eyes to see that Sirion had been replaced. She had not wanted him to be the very first boy to kiss her properly, or to touch her briefly like how Niphrediel was taught only her beloved should. But Niphrediel did not love Legolas. He was her friend. She was his friend. Nothing else.
The princess hugged her knees against her chest and brought her face down so that her brow rested against her kneecaps. She took a deep breath and ignored her stinging eyes. She felt like she wanted to vomit and roll up and hide under a rock all at once. How could she have bastardised their friendship? She had completely insulted Legolas for imagining him in such a way, a noble and honourable creature such as he. He was above all that— and far above Niphrediel, to say the least.
Legolas did not need anything like that from Niphrediel. He would not appreciate it. He would…. become uncomfortable or frustrated or angry that she had brought anything sexual into her half of their friendship. That she had perverted the meaning in their closeness.
'How dare you,' Niphrediel imagined him yelling at her. 'How dare you think of me in such a way— I thought we were friends, Niphrediel! You are just a young, stupid little girl… why would you imagine such things? You brought me down to such a level— gah, how dare you!!'
Niphrediel had complicated a basic friendship for the worst. Worst of all, she had done it unknowingly and innocently; she had no idea what she was doing the night before, she only knew that it felt perfect to think that the owner of the mouth that was roughly biting into hers was her archer friend.
"An elf, Niphrediel," she murmured against her knees, eyes pinched closed. "An elf."
An elf… something Niphrediel was not. Immortal…. another aspect that Niphrediel lacked. Yes, she had to remind herself of those two very important things. Perhaps it would get the fact into her head that there was no hope thinking or desiring or pondering or dreaming about things that would only confuse and hurt and anger her. She was not an elf and nor was she immortal, and that was it. Nothing more.
Niphrediel turned to lie on the side of her head, and forced herself to nap. If only for the briefest of moments.
However, the knocking of her bedchamber door interrupted her moment of peace. Niphrediel regretted that she had left the door, which connected the bedchamber to the bath hall open, and quickly wrapped a robe around herself before going to answer the door.
"What?" Niphrediel knew she sounded horrible and regretted it as she looked upon the young girl standing behind a trey on the other side. She smiled quickly, hoping it would make her appear more kind and grateful. "Oh, I am sorry— let me take that for you." Niphrediel took the back handle of the trey and inclined her brow before pulling it through the door.
The young maid curtseyed before closing Niphrediel's door and running back down the hall.
Niphrediel wrapped her dripping hair in a towel before sitting down on a sofa and eating some of the food that had been served on the tray. Pastries, sausages, fruit, and cakes— the selection was lovely. But Niphrediel took no pleasure in each bite she took. She may as well have been feeding on dirt.
Well….. maybe not…. Niphrediel did really like the pastries.
The door knocked again as Niphrediel finished her third pastry, and though she was surprised; she supposed it must have been the maid. Perhaps she had forgotten something on the trey? Niphrediel stood up and made her way back to the door, and swung it open.
She immediately regretted opening it when she saw that it was not the maid standing on the other side. Instead of feeling butterflies, or having her heart skip— or any other type of romantic mumbo-jumbo— Niphrediel was annoyed. Why did he have to come here? Niphrediel did not want to see him, she did not want to speak with him, she did not want anything to do with him, at the moment.
"What?" Niphrediel did not care that she sounded like an old, angry crone. She let the door swing against her, instead of leaving it wide enough that her visitor could brush passed.
Legolas seemed to shrivel up like an embarrassed child at receiving such a harsh reception. He clasped his hands behind his back, which forced him to stand up straight, and his eyes lowered to the floor. "Well, I…" he stammered, shrugging his shoulders. "You did not come down with Sarilya."
"Yes," Niphrediel said with a nod of her head. "I know."
Legolas was not unintelligent. He took a step back, lowering his chin. Niphrediel could see his confidence shrinking before her eyes— it was almost amazing how much she could affect him so easily. It was too bad that Niphrediel refused to care right that moment.
"Are you… all right?" Legolas asked, his voice becoming less self-assured and clear. He looked up at Niphrediel with a frown, his eyes roaming her face as if he did not recognise what he was looking at.
"I am fine," Niphrediel muttered, frustrated. She frowned right back, except her brow displayed impatience and aggravation. Her stare was cold, but the most of the harsher emotions that flashed within them were feigned. "What do you want?"
"I just wanted to see if you wanted to come down to the garden," he responded, trying not to sound overly timid. "Just… it is very entertaining having fun with the children— I did not know wether you would want to miss out. Rivanon is having a very good time."
"Anything else?" Niphrediel began to hate herself then. Her justifications for why she was acting so cruel ceased to make sense. But she could not possibly become bright and cheery— she could not revert back. Niphrediel kept her aloof expression on, but she began hoping any moment that Legolas was going to walk away so she would not have to say anything else with such venom on her tongue.
Legolas looked back up. His brow furrowed all the more as the strength of his stare intensified. "Have I done something wrong?" he asked her solemnly. "Are you angry with me? Is everything well?"
Niphrediel inwardly groaned, glancing over her shoulder to her room. She thought of closing the door in the elf's face for a moment, so that she would not have to answer; but she could not do it. "No, nothing is wrong," she retorted. "It would be none of your business even if something was wrong."
Legolas stiffened, and his chin rose. "I did not deserve that," he told her.
"Fine," Niphrediel snapped, before giving a mock-wave in surrender with her left hand. "Whatever you say."
"What have I done wrong?" Legolas asked her again, with more desperation and exasperation.
Niphrediel's jaw tightened. "Nothing!" she exclaimed. "Just leave me alone?"
"Leave you alone?" Legolas echoed Niphrediel's question, a look of confusion smacked on his face. "Who do you think you are talking to, Niphrediel? I am your friend."
Niphrediel forced herself to nonchalantly shrug. She knew Legolas wanted to slap the smug expression off her face, though he could never raise a hand against a woman. "I am sorry, but I do not feel like caring at the moment." Niphrediel was not lying.
"Well, excuse me for giving a care," Legolas said sharply. "Your Rivanon is running around the place asking where Caeleb is and I look over and see that the chair between Arwen and Sarilya is empty, so I use my initiative to come to your chamber to see what is happening— and you greet me in this manner?"
"Oh stop whinging," Niphrediel retorted quickly, in an attempt to not focus on what Legolas had said about Rivanon. "You have said what you have had to say. Goodbye, Legolas." In a casual but forceful manner, Niphrediel began to close her door.
Suddenly, as if remembering something, Legolas's hand lashed out and blocked the door. "Niphrediel, did something happen last night?" Even when she was horrible to him, Legolas still cared. His voice was gruff and firm, but she could hear his concern and immediate awareness.
With a groan, Niphrediel shook her head and put all her weight onto the door. It closed with a bang, and she flipped the lock so that Legolas could not force it open a moment afterwards. Niphrediel stepped away from the door as she heard a fist bang against the lebethron wood before silence returned.
Niphrediel hung her head and automatically felt awful for her behaviour. Treating him horribly had made her feel both better and worse. She liked that she had taken some of her aggression out on Legolas, but the guilt of knowing that he truly did not deserve any of it was wicked.
If Legolas's plan was to take Niphrediel to the gardens, in some way he had succeeded. Niphrediel knew she was going to go down, and it angered her in a way. She did not want to bother with greeting people who would not care if not for the invisible crown around her forehead. She did not want to get changed or think up some pleasant way to do her hair so that she could fit the profile of a 'royal' or a 'noble'. The life of a princess was not what she wanted right then, when she wanted nothing but peace and quiet and privacy.
Niphrediel took as long as she could to prolong her time in her room. She ate her breakfast slowly; despite the fact that her appetite had practically demolished the moment she had shunned Legolas from her doorway. She combed her hair with extra thoroughness before shoving the most of it into a tidy bun. With her unskilled hands, the bun was loose and would probably end up falling out of place; but it would do.
She dried herself properly before putting the gown on. The sleeves felt nice against her skin, cool and soft as silk was supposed to be, and they were not overly flared or heavily bell-shaped so it was no effort to lift her arms. She admired it, and took off her whistle and Gimli's ring— leaving only Théodred's ruby-studded band, which she had never taken off. Niphrediel found an ordinary black line of lace and hooked it around her neck and pinned it at the back so that no one would be able to see the love bites on the left side. It was good enough; besides, she could not find another sort of chocker.
Niphrediel shoved on a pair of slippers before leaving the room. She walked through the corridors, and noticed how little guards populated the passageways. Her stride was swift, a great change from the lax movement she performed in her chamber. She did not want to go to the gardens, but she would rather hurry up and get to where she was going instead of moving through the passageways like a snail.
She slipped through into the empty dining hall with a quiet sigh, and made her way across the floor towards the entryway into the veranda. Niphrediel paused and leaned against the stone railing of the veranda, looking over the garden.
It was disgusting how fun everything had been made out to be. There were decorations on the trees, and vines of paper balloons hanging from one branch to another. It was like an arena— a stand had been made where the royalty were seated. Most adult folk had prepared their own stools to sit upon, or had simply taken to the soft green grass. The children played and squealed as they played with each other, and some of the elves and other folk who had taken to joining along.
Niphrediel looked away, gritting her teeth, and made her way down. She made sure not to draw any attention to herself, for she did not want people to notice her entrance. She would have to smile and nod if anyone did notice the Princess of Gondor and Arnor descending the stone steps to the first veranda, and then down the second row to the grass. She lowered her head as a few people brushed passed her, as she had made her way up the three wooden steps which took her to the left side of the rectangular canopy that shaded the stands of the King and Queen.
The guard who stood there simply bowed his head to Niphrediel as she quickly passed, moving in front of Sarilya as she sat upon her comfortable stool before collapsing down on the empty wooden chair of her own. A rather handsome pot plant separated Niphrediel from Arwen, so her arrival was not noticed by either of them.
Sarilya smiled and let out a short gasp in surprise as she watched Niphrediel slide into the chair beside her. Wordlessly, Sarilya leant against the thick wooden arm of the princess's chair, waiting as Niphrediel settled onto her seat and crossed one leg over another before following suite and leaning against the wooden arm herself. Their hands instinctively clasped each other.
The children were gathered together in a strange game, which consisted of someone throwing a leather-bound ball to one of the children who used a rounded paddle to hit it as hard as they could. The other children would have to try and get the ball, and then get it to the person who had thrown it to the 'batter' before the 'batter' ran to the tree six or so meters to the left and right back to where they were before. The children loved it.
A few of the older Gondorian children, who must have been fourteen or so, stood at the further reaches of the garden— where they would not be able to take over the game from the younger children. They flirted with each other, laughing and squealing as only the young could. Glorfindel looked over a small group of Raewyn's orphans, as did a few ellith. Legolas stood in the centre, where he would carefully (and slowly) throw a ball to whichever child he elected to be the batter.
Legolas lifted Rivanon, after he rushed up to him to hand the ball over to him. The ten year old boy who had been batting had not made it back to the starting spot in time, so all the children clapped and cheered. Even the outed batter dropped his bat to give Rivanon a clap. Both Legolas's and Rivanon's hair shone in the sunlight as Legolas twirled him around. As Legolas put Rivanon down, and Elanor ran up beside him and clasped his shoulder; he looked at Niphrediel. But he looked away just as quickly, as Elanor's laughter caught his attention.
"Just calf-love, my lady," came Sarilya's whispered words, her hand tightening on Niphrediel's.
Niphrediel nodded once, needing her words for a moment to regain focus. Her eyes shifted into a squint, making it appear that she was glaring instead of fighting back moisture that would make her eyes appear somewhat glassy.
…And you met beautiful elf maiden called Elanor…
…With eyes of bright blue and hair so golden one could swear golden stars twinkled from them…
…Elanor is so beautiful and lovely, everyone absolutely adores her…
…you marry her right away…
…I will die…
…happily…
Niphrediel had to stop herself from physically shaking her head. She placed her fist near her mouth, biting the tip of her thumb to stop her eyes from liquefying her shame. Niphrediel did not want the future that she had playfully predicted so long ago. Her gut churned and her heart slowed it's rhythm at the very thought. Every inch of her body and soul agreed in unison that they would rather rot then see Niphrediel's prophecy come into being. What did Niphrediel want to happen instead? She did not care.
But… Who was little miss Elanor, anyway? What right did she have to speak and dance with Legolas one evening, and assume that they had a good enough relationship to regard him as her friend? Was she some… some evil creature that had made itself a body just to spite her?
Niphrediel watched her. She stared with hating eyes as she exuded beauty as the sun radiated light. She wished the elleth would turn into some disgusting demon. Something hideous and smelly and evil so that she could have a fair reason to want to run a dagger through her stomach. If Niphrediel's frown could darken more, it did so then; and her eyes closed momentarily in a silent plea to whatever could have heard her thoughts— to transform the object of her abhorrence into something that made her loathe and jealousy justifiable.
But Elanor did not change. Her smile did not waver; her hair did not cease to shine or her skin to glow. She remained brilliant. But it became too much for Niphrediel when the elleth moved down onto her knees; arms wide for Rivanon to run into. Niphrediel's blood boiled within a split second and before she knew it, she stood up; letting Sarilya's hands go in doing so.
"Rivanon!"
Suddenly, the game was brought to a halt. Conversations between each person who had gone to watch or join in the fun were brought to an immediate stop. Even the children, too young to realise the grandness of Niphrediel's status, ceased to chatter and laugh— following the reactions of the grown-up folk.
Rivanon, poised ready to run to Elanor, stopped in his tracks and quickly turned around. His eyes were wide, and mouth agape— he knew that voice. He forgot about the elleth instantly. Niphrediel wished a certain someone would follow suite.
Niphrediel stiffened, incapable of speech, as she looked from one face that had turned to regard her, and then another. She was not used to being able to invoke such notice with one word and she probably never would. She quickly composed herself as the silence dragged on for a moment too long, and spoke.
"Come here," she said, trying to sound as sweet and as oblivious as possible. She managed a smile, and even to appear calm when inside, every organ in her body told her to take the child and run. Not able to think of a better solution, Niphrediel did just that once Rivanon ran up to the stands and passed the guards.
"Caeleb!" he squealed as he walked up the last stair.
Ignoring the stunned stare that Sarilya was directed up at her, Niphrediel walked passed her and meet Rivanon at the stair. She picked him up effortlessly, hugging and holding him against her at once as she walked briskly down them and walked through the forest path of the garden; leaving the games and a frowning Aragorn behind her.
Niphrediel tried not to jog as she furthered herself into the heart of the tidy garden. She disliked how orderly it was; how obvious it was that gardeners cared it for. Niphrediel disliked its uniformity and tidiness… it ruined it's purpose, in her opinion, since the very reason gardens were so beautiful for her were that they brought a touch of nature. If she was not mistaken, nature did not keep lawns perfectly trimmed or hedges shaped like cubes.
Almost in a need to escape it, Niphrediel turned and walked off the cobbled path and into the trees and scrub. Even in the parts that were unseen from the paths, the forest floor was even and tidy. Summer had treated it with kindness, as well as the gardeners that cared for even the least visible gathering of flowers.
"Caeleb, Caeleb, Caeleb!" giggled Rivanon, so close to Niphrediel's ear that she almost smiled as she carefully stepped onto the trunk of a tree which has tipped over to rest against another tree; which was the only thing that kept it from resting on the hearth. Using it as a bridge, Niphrediel walked towards it's brunches which protruded upwards like arrows to the sun; the upwards-tilt of the bridge subtle enough for Niphrediel to be confident that she would not trip over her skirt.
At the end, Niphrediel rested up against the trunk of the second tree with Rivanon in her lap. She pulled her knees up and hugged the child against herself. Rivanon propelled himself on his booted feet, which were planted on the surface of the trunk at either side of Niphrediel's stomach, which enabled him to stand above her. His legs had grown since the last time Niphrediel had seen him.
There was a look of awe in Niphrediel's eyes as her chin rose, so that she could look up at Rivanon who looked with childish curiosity down on her, as tears rolled from the corners of them. His tiny hands came up and patted the top of Niphrediel's head. He had always held such fascination and adoration for her hair— and even when he was in a realm of folk with the same trait, he had no such interest for anyone else.
His palms came to rest on her cheeks, and Rivanon frowned in concentration as he pushed her muscles upwards— forcing Niphrediel to smile. Niphrediel complied without resistance, and chuckled some.
"No cry," Rivanon announced matter-of-factly, his voice quiet and husky for a child's. His palms released their occupation of Niphrediel's face, and though the stretched curve of Niphrediel's mouth decreased; she continued to smile for him. Her smile was a sad one however… and perhaps Rivanon knew that, for he did not say a word. He simply sat back down on Niphrediel and placed his head over her heart. Her arms drew around him protectively a moment afterwards, and Niphrediel closed her eyes.
Rivanon never shifted or struggled for Niphrediel to let him go. He rested against her and drew his hand up so that he could suck on his thumb once he began to get tired. Niphrediel's arms kept him warm as he closed his eyes and began to nap, as Niphrediel stared off onto the forest floor with a distant gaze. She wished in that moment that she and Rivanon could stay there forever, with his little body wrapped in her arms. Children were such magical creatures. With Rivanon's simple affection, Niphrediel was reminded that… that it was not the end of the world.
Then why do I feel like it is?
Niphrediel sighed and tried not to cringe. She cared for Legolas. Too much. She dared not try to describe her emotions because she was more afraid of knowing what she was feeling then not. She was afraid to know how she felt, afraid to realise exactly how much change the night before had made in her life. Had she always felt so strongly and the night with Sirion was just a way of her mind letting her know how she felt? Or had the night with Sirion initiated everything?
Niphrediel did not want to know. She did not want to think. She did not want to breathe.
Yet, she did both as her stare was drawn to the sole figure stumbling through the bush far from her left. Automatically, the dire expression began to take Niphrediel's face over until she saw that over his eyes was a black blindfold. The echoes of laughter caught her ears, and Niphrediel turned her head in the other direction to see a small group of children separating into several hiding places. It was only because Niphrediel sat high on the tree that she could see those things, however. Had she been on the forest floor, there would be no way she could see either of the two sights.
Niphrediel's gaze softened on Legolas as he walked slowly, cautiously and most importantly: blind. His other senses must have been on full alert, but Niphrediel could have easily been mistaken for a hiding game contender. Her frown fell from her brow as she reminded herself that she could pull any face she wanted and he would not know. She gave herself permission to admire him from afar as she would have never done before. It was strange how the little things about him were noticeable to her then. Like how tall he was, and the width of his broad shoulders— or simply how… beautiful he was.
Niphrediel should not have been looking at him that way. She knew it. But she gave herself a moment to admire at the only time that he would have no idea. But as Rivanon let out a yawn, and Legolas's head snapped in her direction, Niphrediel's moment was broken.
She saw how his direction changed, and he slowly made his way towards the tree. It was a fair walk, far enough for her to be able to get off and leave cleanly if he kept his pace so slow. The woken Rivanon did not make another sound as Niphrediel rose to her feet and gathered him into her arms. Her gaze bobbed from the potential footstep in front of her and Legolas as Niphrediel began her wary descent. Niphrediel noticed quickly, as Legolas's steps became quicker and more confident, that she had underestimated him.
With Rivanon in her arms, Niphrediel was not about to risk rushing down. Why she did not just tell him to go away was something of a mystery to Niphrediel. She did not want to speak to him. She, really, did not want to speak at all. Her moment with Rivanon had not ended so that she would start muttering moodily to her friend which would might cause a drift between them… But, Niphrediel knew that a drift between them was needed. She had to stop thinking of him so… unrealistically. It was not right.
She let Rivanon run in front of her as Niphrediel finally stepped onto the hearth, and dodged one of Legolas's hands that had come out to graze her arm. Niphrediel almost tripped over herself, muttering a swearword in the back of her head before backing into a very stupidly positioned redwood tree. With a sigh, she let her arms fall to her sides and surrendered in silence— watching in both unrest and despair as Legolas took a step forward, and then another.
His hand brushed against her shoulder as they rose to seek out the buffoon who had jumped from the fallen tree so slowly. Legolas's forehead wrinkled in a frown, as the height of Niphrediel's shoulders told him that he had found an adult. He had expected to touch, at the very most, a mop of hair.
His touch did not give Niphrediel some sort of butterfly explosion in her stomach. Nor did her heart begin to race— but her blood began to warm and she bit down on her tongue to keep her cheeks pale. She looked down at his hand on her shoulder, and then to his other that reached out blindly to graze her jaw: Legolas's attempt to find the captured person's face.
Niphrediel tensed as both hands took each side of her face, feeling the shape of her jaw and cheeks beneath the skin of his palms. The slowness… Was that not what she wanted, in her own sick way? Niphrediel had got what she wanted— the Valar-defying whore she was— his face was less then thirty centimetres from her own. She could simply lean in…
And she wanted to. She clenched her fists and pinched her eyes closed as Legolas identified the arch of her eyebrows. She wanted to lean in and smother him with kisses. She wanted to hold his neck and stroke his hair like lovers would and fall back onto the grass with him bellow her. It was absolutely terrifying and Niphrediel knew she should have been disgusted at the desires she felt herself identifying… but she did not. There was not one single limb in her body that rebuked at the idea of embracing him: an elf, a friend, a Prince.
Legolas's hands stopped as his finger grazed the corner of her jaw and felt the slightly rougher flesh of her otherwise indistinguishable scar. His body tensed, and even with her eyes closed— Niphrediel could imagine his expression being one of disappointment. She betted he was hoping that it was Elanor standing in front of him rather then her, with nothing but the trees around them. She suspected that he would have leaned in and kissed Elanor right then and there if it were her standing in Niphrediel's place.
Legolas's hands drew away rapidly as if he touched a flame rather than the simple flesh of a human girl, and he rushed to take off the blindfold. As the strip of fabric was thrown over his shoulder, he looked down with a concerned stare upon Niphrediel, the slightest hint of a frown on his immaculate brow. "Niphrediel?" he asked gently, holding one hand upon her temple, and willing her left eye to open with his thumb upon her lid. "Hey, it is only I— Legolas."
His eyes caught the damp residue of Niphrediel's recent tears that Rivanon had not noticed, and his gaze darkened. That was what Niphrediel saw when her eyes opened; the thoughtful look in his eyes, both dark and concerned, with his mouth dulled into a firm line.
"What is the matter?" he asked her the question that had been plaguing his mind all day, letting his hands take her face in their gentle hold once more. He took a step closer, though his person suggested nothing of the passion Niphrediel wanted him to feel for her. He did not have the spark in his eye that she imagined anyone would as they leant in to fervently kiss another.
"Nothing," she told him again— except her voice was almost broken that time, forced into a whisper; and her eyes spoke of sadness and disappointment.
Legolas shook his head, bringing his forehead to rest against hers. "Do not lie to me," he pleaded. "I do care for you, Niphrediel."
Not in the way I care for you. "I am not lying to you," Niphrediel whispered back, the same pleading tone in her voice as she willed him to stop caring. If he stopped being so perfect, then she would not be having so much trouble restraining herself!
"You promise?" Legolas regarded Niphrediel unblinkingly, as he slowly pulled his brow away from hers a fraction. His eyebrows were high, and his eyes forgiving on Niphrediel as he expected her to finally tell him what had troubled her to such a degree. He had absolutely no idea that he was actually the problem.
Niphrediel forced herself to keep to her lie. "I swear," she whispered.
"Very well," Legolas said, a little louder; but nonetheless gentle, before pulling her into him. He gave her a long hug, and it was a long moment before Niphrediel began to embrace him back. When she did though, she clutched him tightly, as if her body had only just recognised the notion, and pressed her face against his shoulder. She did not cry, as least not on the outside. She did not want to ruin his beautiful silver tunic with her stupid, shame-ridden tears.
Legolas deserved more then that.
Niphrediel was attempting to clear her mistrusted mind with a book when there was a knock at the door. The evening had come and dinner was being prepared so she had decided to retire for a moment to spend some time alone before having to put on a feigned happy-face for dinner. She sat with the leather-cased book on her lap; using the light of the nearest candle, and the fireplace, to enable her to read the handwritten words, as the sound of a tapping fist upon the wood reached her eyes.
At first, Niphrediel thought she had not truly heard anything until there was a second knock. Changed into a dress, which had a neckline, much to Niphrediel's dislike, identical to that of her plunging-necked nightgowns— of a sweet, light blue colour, Niphrediel thought she most prepared for a visitor. She did not understand why Sarilya thought it was so important to change from her ordinary gown to another for dinner, but Sarilya simply insisted that it was improper for women in courtly company to enter a dinner in the same attire they had been sweating and rolling about in since morning.
From bellow Niphrediel's bosom, the garment flared out to show the underdress of white linen beneath it. It was a very pretty thing, trimmed in gold along the neckline and the large oversleeves which lay over her arms, which were snugly confined in the pale white sleeves of the underdress which came to sit high at her palms from all the unconscious tugging she did on them.
Strangely enough, Niphrediel had no idea how Sarilya had managed it her hair that evening— but her handmaid had somehow forced each strand into a rounded circle upon her head, pulled taut and fastened with rounds of thick golden lace in one clean swoop. A golden circlet of handsome, interwoven vines was born over her brow, then— Niphrediel wondered where all the jewellery was coming from, and where it went after she wore it.She had not yet worn any garment or jewel twice! It was almost atrocious.
A strand of golden lace was placed around her neck. Sarilya cursed herself for not noticing Niphrediel's 'bruises' sooner then she had, before leaving her lady to her own devices. She could not leave without being Niphrediel to keep her hair in place and not dirty her dress though— she had said it was the most traditional thing Niphrediel had yet warn, so she hoped it would remain immaculate for as long as possible.
Niphrediel dropped the book on the sofa as she stood up, her hands affectionately fluffing out her skirts. Bright and almost carefree of step, she made her way over to the door and carefully turned the doorknob to see who beckoned her on the other side. She opened the door widely, tilting her head somewhat to the side so she could get a better look and was rather surprised when she saw Aragorn standing on the other side.
His crown shone in the candlelight, and the red tinges of her tunic contrasted against his complexion as he stood, tall and proud, with his hands clasped behind his back and his head bowed to the last moment. His grey eyes softened as they moved up and saw Niphrediel's face, and her mouth stretched into a smile as Niphrediel's hand fell from the door after pushing it the last centimetre backwards.
"Aragorn!" Niphrediel almost exclaimed in surprise, blinking twice and straightening. She was not horrified in the least, but she truly did not expect it to be him who stood on the other side of the door so close to dinner. "What on earth are you doing here?" There was obvious delight and a subtle tinge of wryness in her voice as she spoke, and lazily smiled.
"That is not the way you greet your father," Aragorn quipped, before taking a step forward and bringing his hands to either side of Niphrediel's neck, so that with the sides of his hands beneath her jaw he could raise her chin as such so he could firstly kiss her forehead, and then the highest bud of her left cheek. His arms fell around Niphrediel to give her a long hug straight after, as if he was greeting her after some months apart.
Even in his fancy garb, he still smelt the same warm way he had when he was fending for himself in the wild whilst going by the name of Strider. Like fresh grass, and some sweeter, muskier aroma— Niphrediel closed her eyes briefly before Aragorn slowly released her.
"We have not had much time together since you arrived," Aragorn said sadly as he released her from his embrace, and yet continued to clasp her hands and press his forehead down against hers.
Niphrediel shrugged her shoulders. Still, Aragorn's presence had the ability to make her forget of any woe or problem. The subject she had tormented herself on that very morning was momentarily inexistent as his subtle touch reminded her that his magnificent strength stood between her own form and harm. Not even premature heartache could stand up against the figure of Aragorn in her heart.
"You have been busy," Niphrediel thought aloud, trying to comfort Aragorn in some respect since it did sound as if an apology was about to pass his lips. It was not his fault— he had more to care for than her and Arwen. He was a King. "I respect that."
"It does not matter," Aragorn smiled, a little wider then he had before. "Time can be altered when you are King. I could order someone to tell me it is lunchtime at midnight, but I cannot find the heart to cancel an assembly so I can spend some time with you." Aragorn pulled his brow back from Niphrediel's then, and a hand rose to rub Niphrediel's arm.
"How have you been, Neph?" he asked.
Niphrediel laughed softly, shaking her head. "You came here to ask me how I have been?" she asked him with an arched eyebrow, crossing her arms loosely.
"Well, yes," Aragorn answered without one hint of scorn, brows raised in solemnity. "Your behaviour has been a little different these past few days and I wanted to make sure everything was well."
Niphrediel almost blushed— and would have if she were not a little preoccupied with preparing a reply. "I am fine," she said, after a short moment of thought. "Why?"
Aragorn shifted on his feet, and rubbed his palms together gently is half-hidden awkwardness. "Well… I heard about your dinner with that young lord Sirion."
"Oh?" Niphrediel asked, trying not to sound overly alarmed. She hoped no stories had begun circulating through the court about what might have happened during their… interesting meal.
The King simply nodded, and his eyes lowered a fraction. "Well… I was wondering, as all…" he began, before fixing his timid eyes upon her; a gentle plead in them, asking for understanding and compliance. "What is your relationship with him?"
Niphrediel was stunned silent— before forcing herself to laugh, as one would when they are asked a question of absolute absurdity. "He is my friend, Estel!" she said, making sure there was a certain rise-and-fall jiggle in her shoulders as she laughed, and placing a hand upon her chest to effectively feign minor tiredness. "Just my friend, nothing more." It was not so hard… Niphrediel was not lying.
"Just your friend?" Aragorn repeated with a great sigh in relief, and a boyish smile appearing on his mouth. "I hate to say it, Niphrediel, but I am rather relieved."
Niphrediel's brows quirked, and she tilted her head a fraction to her left as she regarded Aragorn for a moment. Her smile had dwindled, and her gaze had narrowed. "Relieved?" she asked. "Why so?"
Aragorn simply smiled, taking Niphrediel's hand and leading her to the sofa to sit down. He was thankful, as his limbs fell upon soft cushion, and his back became supported by the arch of the fine couch. Aragorn had not had much time to relax since his accession so he enjoyed even the slightest moment of being able to lounge back. "Oh, just Legolas," he answered.
"What about him?" Niphrediel asked a little too fast. Aragorn's eyebrow arched a fraction, and he was silently peering at her before giving any sort of response. As he looked at her, Niphrediel tried not to look too panicked.
"Nothing really…" Aragorn replied, with a gentle shrug of his shoulders. "I think he is just a little concerned. He must not like the young Sirion much— he mentioned that your mood had not been as congenial as usual after your evening with him."
Niphrediel chewed on her bottom lip, taking a moment to consider Aragorn's words. Was she supposed to be alarmed or grateful to have Legolas's concern? Niphrediel was almost annoyed— it was none of his business. Even then, she would have thought Legolas would have known not to go to Aragorn with any of his problems concerning her.
It was almost impolite.
Niphrediel's stare trailed off to the corner of the room, and for a moment— Aragorn thought he had said something wrong. He frowned, and his mouth opened to attempt to change the topic, but Niphrediel suddenly decided to speak. "That is rather strange," she said, distantly, before dragging her eyes down to her lap. "I will have to talk to him about that."
Niphrediel was absolutely serious. She would speak to Legolas on the topic sometime during the night... if she was not embarrassed enough to speak to him level-headedly.She regretted the events in the woods, since she had been able to think it all over since. She needed to stop being such a crying little baby.
"Does it trouble you?" Aragorn asked. "Legolas's concerns?"
A simple shake of her head, was all Niphrediel gave. There was no other choice but to fib a little, unless she wanted to face any more questions."No," she replied, her intonation soft. "No, I am fine."
Elessar believed his 'daughter's' response, for he simply nodded and looked away from her— to a painting on the opposite wall in front of him. "Good, good. He cares for you very much, you know," he said offhandedly.
Niphrediel neither shrugged nor nodded. "I know." Her voice was meek. Stop, Aragorn.
"I think it is very…" Aragorn paused for a moment, rising to his feet with a reasonably long hesitance. "Sweet," he concluded. "Glorfindel thinks it is rather hilarious."
"Glorfindel would think that," Niphrediel murmured, looking up at Aragorn as he rose to tower above her, standing straight. "Where are you going?"
"Where are we going, you mean," Aragorn corrected pointedly, before extending his hand for Niphrediel to take. "Dinner calls, eh?"
Niphrediel simply nodded and took Aragorn's hand with one of her own. She pulled herself up onto her feet, and she and Aragorn slowly made their way to the door. "Aragorn?" Niphrediel asked, closing the door to her bedchamber behind them. "That elf lady, Elanor… do you know her?"
Aragorn tried not to shoot Niphrediel a curious look as he kept his eyes fixed on the floor before her, moving his arm around her waist in an almost protective gesture as they began to pass the citadel guards— who silently placed their rests against the flat of their breastplates as Aragorn passed them.
"I met her briefly," he replied, at length. "She seemed nice. Why do you ask?"
Niphrediel shook her head, as they rounded a corner and walked through into the doors of the dining hall. Folk tipped their glasses, bowed their heads, and curtseyed as they moved towards their table, where Arwen and Sarilya were already waiting, and standing in silence. "No reason," Niphrediel finally replied, before kissing Aragorn's check and moving to stand between Arwen and Sarilya upon the dais.
"Friends!" began Aragorn with a sweep of his gilded hand, after he came to stand beside his queen. He paused a moment, waiting for the whispers to cease, before speaking again. "As another evening of joviality comes and goes… As some of you all plan for your long journeys home… I just would like to say that these past few days'… weeks… In time, may they not be so precious— may finer, better days come, to better even this time of celebration; for a lifetime of peace and prosperity meets us. May compassion and more days of joy follow you all!"
He was still very inspirational, Niphrediel thought. Even though her eyes remained transfixed on her clasped hands at her front, and her face remained distinctly unmoving. A deep sigh past through her lips as she considered Aragorn's short speech, as cheering and great applause erupted in the hall from all corners. People were going to start leaving Minas Tirith soon. The hobbits, the Rohirrim… the elves. Niphrediel's subtle peak of mood diminished immediately at the knowledge… Legolas was going to leave.
Niphrediel's hands clenched each other firmly; her tight clasp turning her very knuckles white from pressure. Her eyes glimmered for a brief, uncontrollable moment. She mastered the sudden, potential burst of emotion quickly though— and the moisture drew away. A long breath of relief left her mouth as she felt Aragorn and Arwen turn to move to their seats. Like a well-taught hound, Niphrediel turned and followed.
Dinner proceeded, though Niphrediel did not eat. She sat on her chair like a princess would, with her plate filled to its last inch from Sarilya's insisting. But Niphrediel did not stray from the bowl of grapes set beside her gigantic plate of beautifully prepared meat and vegetables. And even then, Niphrediel gathered no pleasure from eating each plump, purple fruit. It was merely a diversion— of the figure who sat on a flanking table, beside a dwarf and a giggling elleth.
When she did look up, though— it was not an elf, which her eyes set upon, but a soldier and lord sitting stoically at his table. With the same lack of hunger, he noticed Niphrediel looking at him with his own unhappy eyes. As if they shared some sort of secret joke between them, their expressions brighten in unison— and they looked to each other with comforting smiles.
Niphrediel had to excuse herself when the dancing began. But she did not entirely retire— she simply made her way outside to the balcony for a little fresh air. She leaned her elbows on the railing; her face held emotionlessly in her hands. She rubbed her tired eyes with a mixture of a yawn and a groan, before removing her hands and clasping them together against the railing.
Sirion carefully tiptoed beneath the banner that hung over the entryway to the balcony, his garb simple— but very tidy and attractive to the eye. His tunic and the style of his belt suited him. One of his hands absently came up to brush through his carefully oiled hair as he neared Niphrediel's side; he was proud of his appearance that evening, at the least. He looked very becoming.
"You look as lovesick as I feel," he said quietly, his footsteps coming to a stop. "How are you, princess?"
Sirion's presence pleased Niphrediel. She smiled and glanced towards him as he slung his arms over the railing edge to her left. "I am well enough," she said with a wide, wry smile. "And you? Is the night's festivities to your liking?"
"Oh, of course— this is all absolutely wonderful," exaggerated Sirion with a charming grin from ear-to-ear. "It is truly times like this when I am thankful that I force myself out of bed each morning. Wouldn't you agree?"
They both giggled, and Niphrediel lightly patted Sirion's hand with a wry look that displayed boredom, even though she remained smiling all the while. "Yes, I agree with you entirely." They both sobered quickly then, and Niphrediel's gaze on Sirion was kind as she asked: "What is her name?"
Though his eyes were set upon the outer reaches beyond the edge of the balcony, Sirion understood Niphrediel and recognised the kindness in her voice. Although his face remained somewhat expressionless, he answered her with a voice that suggested no cold or callous emotion. "Rosenwen."
"Ah," Niphrediel considered his answer with a prolonged nod of her head. "Rosenwen. A bard?"
"A scullery maid," Sirion corrected with wide grin and a lowered forehead, then he and Niphrediel chuckled for a short moment. "She has… decided through and through that our match would never be accepted. By noble society and the court, as well as my father. She argues that she is not worthy of my affections— let alone my time. She exaggerates the difference between us… our personalities, our obligations, our lifestyle."
Niphrediel smiled sympathetically up at Sirion. "She exaggerates?" she asked, doubt in her tone.
Sirion chuckled beneath his breath— his rhythm warm and self-pitying. "Perhaps not," he answered. "She is right in some respect. She lives so different to me… and my father."
"What do you think will happen between you two?" Niphrediel asked after a brief moment of consideration.
"I truly do not know," Sirion admitted. "At this point I am hoping that I shall wake up tomorrow and discover that it everything I feel for her right now was a complete fabrication, or at the most a simple attraction."
Niphrediel shook her head with a grin. "Fair enough," she said.
"Niphrediel?"
With her breath lodged stubbornly in her throat, Niphrediel whizzed around quickly. "Legolas!" Niphrediel's voice shrunk to a shriek when she came to pronouncing the second syllable of his name, and with a cough, she silenced herself. Her smile was forced and too wide, and Niphrediel felt her cheeks flare as she leaned away from Sirion— as if she had been caught doing something wrong, as if the distance between herself and Sirion gave suggestion of something sinister.
She imagined how it seemed to Legolas, as he stood in the middle of the entryway— his posture straightened that extra fraction, and his eyes dark. He appeared to be sizing Sirion up in an odd way, his eyes looking him from head to toe— lingering particularly on his face and eyes— between brief glances to Niphrediel. Niphrediel wondered what he assumed, with the very position of her and Sirion's bodies toward each other so clearly seen. And how close they stood to each other, talking quietly to each other.
Just like Legolas and Elanor.
Niphrediel coughed and cleared her throat roughly behind a raised hand, trying to ignore the hot swells that were her cheeks. She noticed the obvious attention Legolas was paying Sirion, and saw the nonchalant response Sirion's expression gave the elf in response. Sirion simply leaned back against the rail, the very tips of his mouth upturned in an almost dark, yet strangely polite, grin. Had Sirion and Niphrediel actually been anything more then friends— it would appear that Sirion's very expression would have condemned them both right then.
She spoke quickly, in the hopes that, perhaps, Legolas would look away— and, hopefully, to reinforce the fact that nothing suspicious had been taking place. In that moment, Legolas reminded her of Beren eyeing up a rabbit he had caught beneath his paws, before he set his teeth upon its neck. "Um— what are you doing outside of the ball?" she blurted out with a pleading smile. "Elanor might be keen for a dance."
Niphrediel almost let out a sigh in relief when Legolas looked toward her, and his eyes softened a little. But only for a moment. "There's a foul draft coming in," he said, casual but matter-of-factly, his chin rising ever so slightly as he glanced again to Sirion. He turned to his side, an unspoken motion that he either wished Niphrediel to walk passed him— or follow him. "Come along inside."
Niphrediel certainly did not feel this 'draft'. And, since elves were immune to the cold— she wondered if Legolas felt it too. But she simply nodded, like an obedient child, and took a step toward the entryway. "Goodbye, Sirion," she said, looking back over her shoulder.
Sirion continued to slouch against the rail, but sent Niphrediel a wink and inclination of his brow. "Highness," he said, and Niphrediel shook her head while swallowing down a chuckle til' she was behind the banner. She noticed it took Legolas a moment before following her, and she felt her eyebrow quirk for a brief second.
"Where is Elanor?" Niphrediel asked nonchalantly as Legolas came to stand beside her, both of them looking out over the dance floor. She rubbed her palms together, as if she truly was intent to find the elleth somewhere in the throng when, really, she would hardly be bothered if she never saw her face again.
Though it seemed that Legolas wanted to speak of something else— what he had previously walking into, perhaps— he answered Niphrediel with a shrug of his shoulders. Though, without the company of Sirion, the Prince of Mirkwood's expression held far more mirth. "Elanor?" he repeated, casting Niphrediel a clueless look. "Why do you ask?"
Niphrediel did not hesitate, turning toward Legolas a bit. "Well, I have noticed you have been spending quite a lot of time with her," she said oh-so casually, her eyes roaming over the dancing figures to make it less obvious that she did not wish to look Legolas in the eye as she spoke. "I just would have assumed she would have been on your arm this evening." Niphrediel almost smirked. Yes, Legolas, I know, she thought.
If it was not only because she wanted to talk about something on a safe ground, she had asked Legolas about Elanor to see him squirm.
And he did. Legolas shifted on his finely tailored boots, and tugged at the long panels of his silver tunic. "I am not entirely sure," he replied, though did not appear to so much as glance around the room to see if Elanor was around.
Niphrediel looked to Legolas then, with a faint frown on her face. What was it that he wanted? "Is there something the matter?" she asked him, unmoving even as she felt Sarilya fall in beside her and slump lovingly against her side. Her Lady-and-Waiting leaned heavily, though not unpleasantly, on her lady, and Niphrediel could feel her chin settle on her shoulder, and two arms wrap around one of hers.
"There's something wrong?" Sarilya repeated, glancing up to Niphrediel and then Legolas.
Almost defensively, Legolas shook his head thrice at Sarilya— and seemed to shuffle beneath the gaze of the 'outsider'. "No, nothing's the matter," he said, then seemed to see someone he recognised. He nodded to whomever this person was, before moving to excuse himself. "Pardon me," he murmured politely, before moving away with Niphrediel and Sarilya staring after him.
Niphrediel and Sarilya stood unmoving for a long moment, til Niphrediel felt Sarilya's chin gently digging into her shoulder as she shook her head. "He is such a weird one," she whispered into Niphrediel's ear, half-laughing; throwing her spare arm around her shoulder. Her eyes sparkled in amusement, the two looked so alike to the group of maidens that were forever separated from a group of young men—whispering to each other behind raised palms.
Niphrediel could not help but laugh with Sarilya, lowering her chin to the side so that, perhaps, it was not so obvious that they were talking about someone to those who might have noticed their prior interlude with the Mirkwood's Prince. "I know," she replied. "It certainly seems that way tonight."
When they eventually stopped laughing, they both took a minute to study the elf, as he chattered quietly with Gimli, and another unknown dwarf. Niphrediel had no idea there were visitors of that kind that had arrived! She bit down the urge to run forward and introduce herself— and ask him… or her… a few questions. Niphrediel could not help but wonder if the dwarf was possibly female. Perhaps she was Gimli's… friend!
Niphrediel inwardly giggled at the thought.
"Beautiful though," Sarilya decided at last, tilting her head a fraction to her left.
Niphrediel shuffled at that, and lowered her head. Sarilya must have noticed her motion, for her arms tightened around her and she quickly thought of a way to brighten the mood.
"Hey," Sarilya said, her posture straightening. She raised her chin from Niphrediel's shoulder, and turned her mouth towards the taller girl's ear. "Lets go."
"Go?" Niphrediel repeated, her brows furrowed, shooting Sarilya a somewhat confused look.
Sarilya simply nodded. "Yes! These formal folk have no idea what a party really is!" She looked to Niphrediel closely to see if her offer was a pleasing one, her own expression bright and mirthful; and her smile broad and playful. With such a face looking up at her— Niphrediel could not help but smile back, and give in.
"Very well," said Niphrediel, and Sarilya bit her plump, bottom lip to hold back the tiny cheer that would have erupted from her throat. They both giggled in a youthful, carefree manner, before Sarilya grabbed Niphrediel's hand lead them both through the crowd of gathered people, and headed out the door. If only they were more careful about their departure.
It was simple for them both to get through the gates— what, with so many people walking in and out, that is. They squealed and clung to each other's hands as if they were their very lifelines as they ran through the streets of each darkened tire.
"Wheeee!" Sarilya cried in glee as they sprinted passed a baker's shop, and then a tailor store, both of which were closed but still populated by their lifeless owners. Although Sarilya ran through a puddle of Ulmo-knows-what, she did not appear to care. The shop-loyal baker stuck his head out the window and cursed loudly at both Sarilya and Niphrediel, but the most of it was drowned out by Sarilya's bold laughter.
With one hand attached the hand of the other, both spare hands of the two girls were attached to their skirts that they held somewhat aloft. As Niphrediel ran carelessly through the street with Sarilya, she wished for a nice pair of leggings and a brand new pair of boots. Especially when she, too, stomped through a puddle.
"Ahh!" Niphrediel let out, turning her gaze from the road in front of her to look down at her still-running legs and her black slippers camouflaged in the night.
"Do not worry!" Sarilya giggled. Although the Lady-in-Waiting kept her eyes focused on what was coming up in front of her, she seemed to know exactly what had happened. "It is only tea!"
For a brief second, Sarilya turned away to the side of the road where a group of young common boys were walking. Sarilya seemed to know them, for she gave them all a 'hello' and garnered at least seven in response. When Niphrediel and Sarilya had passed them indefinitely, she shot Niphrediel a look. "They must be coming too!"
"What, Tea?" Niphrediel asked Sarilya belatedly as she avoided a stone in her way, and suddenly skidded to a halt when Sarilya made a curve in direction to head through an alleyway into the next tier. Their pace was altered into a jog, and their hands separated, as they dodged the wooden planks of wood and abandoned pieces of furniture in the narrow, and rather grotty, alley.
"Be careful of any nails still in any bits of the wood," Sarilya threw back at Niphrediel, her skirt, for the moment, pulled up all the way to her hips as she stepped over what appeared to be a broken wagon wheel. Niphrediel noticed then that Sarilya's hair had come out from her usual tight, orderly bun— her curls cascading around her shoulders as they were meant to, complimenting Sarilya's lovely appearance by adding a certain playful and carefree air.
Niphrediel hoped, and wondered, if the same was done to her— although she had not felt the lace loosen on her hair, and it would have been disappointing for Sarilya's artwork to be murdered prematurely by a little running.
"Aye, tea," Sarilya said, bringing her second leg over the wheel, with a faint pant between each of her words. "All the old men and women that work there— all they do is drink tea. Some merchants set up booths there to make a few pennies by selling them tea after letting them have little samples of the merchandise so that they know what they want. At the end of the day and all the tea is cold, they just tip it out on the streets. Hardly tidy."
Niphrediel let out a sigh in relief as she picked up the wagon wheel and threw it aside, so that she would not have to step over it as Sarilya did. When they reached the alleyway, 'The King's Ale' was just across the street, and even from their Niphrediel could hear the laughter and the instruments of musicians.
So could Sarilya, obvious, for even as they stood across the street from the entrance, she was bouncing softly to the rhythm of the drum. "Come on, come on," she nagged, bouncing forward to pull Niphrediel out of the mouth of the alleyway. "Here," she said, leaning forward to brush a few wrinkles out of Niphrediel's gown and replace an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "Whee! Lets go!"
Grabbing Niphrediel's hand, Sarilya adjusted the shoulders of her own wide-necked gown before skipping over the road with her lady close behind. At the entrance, a few old women raised their glasses to the young pair— and, with more knowledge of Gondorian etiquette and acquired ease, Sarilya leaned forward and kissed each one on the cheek before pushing the door open and letting out a cheer as she and Niphrediel skipped inside.
Like the last time Niphrediel had visited the tavern, there were people everywhere! Though the most were young, a few old-timers hung around with jolly expressions on their faces— the most preferring to sing with their own at the tables and laugh at the silly antics of those of the younger generation who, more often than not, had arrived both in the company of their friends and older relatives. Niphrediel could hear the squeal of two long-separated friends as they met each other again.
She looked to a table of older men and women, surrounded by a small group of seven young men holding their own pints. Each of them looked towards one young man in particular as he told them all a joke, obviously a grandson of one of the elders sitting at the table, so animatedly that he even pretended to be each person and creature he spoke of with great, and hilarious, detail. Niphrediel thought him a student at the theatre.
The very air was gold and orange— warm and jovial.
"Two pints of your sweetest ale, Fat Pa!" yelled Sarilya as she got to the bar, slamming her hand down on it.
Fat Pa, who Niphrediel assumed was the head barkeep, turned around immediately from the sinks when he heard Sarilya's voice. Indeed, he was large in the belly— and in the arm, leg, and whatever other limb Niphrediel could see; but he had the lovely features of one who had laughed and smiled through life. He wore a loose tunic with it's sleeves rolled up at the elbows, covered by a large apron, and Niphrediel noticed before long that the most of his head was bald while what hair remained was mostly white. Yet, within his giant limbs, Niphrediel saw strength and capability. He still had an amazing punch.
"Why, I could kiss you child!" he declared gleefully, putting down the tea towel and rinsed jug to lean over the bar, grip the sides of Sarilya's face and plant a kiss upon her forehead and each cheek. His rosy cheeks glowed as he shook his head at Sarilya once he had pried his mouth from her second cheek and began to prepare their drinks in front of them.
"How was your trip to Dol Amroth?" Sarilya asked, jumping onto one of the stools, and motioning for Niphrediel to do the same. As if her question was a rhetorical one, Sarilya spoke on. "Fat Pa, this is my friend Niph-you know what, who I was telling you about," Sarilya motioned to Niphrediel casually, giving Fat Pa an oh-so scandalous wink.
"Ooh," replied Fat Pa, giving Niphrediel a good ol' study as he gave them both their pints of ale. "A pleasure to have ye here, m'lady, I hope ye enjoy yer' brew." He then answered Sarilya. "The trip was a fine one, lassy— I brought back many drums of their finest ales too. Them Dol Amroth keepers beware now that I have what makes them think they are so much better then us Stone City taverns!"
Niphrediel smiled widely at the man, her hands closing around the cold glass with ease. She turned towards Sarilya beside her as she planted a couple of silver coins upon the tabletop.
"For your service, Fat Pa," Sarilya said, pointing her finger down at the pennies before them. "With a little something extra for you to buy yourself a new apron. You have been wearing one since when— since birth?" she quipped, and few happy old men beside her exploded in laughter. One slapped his knee as he hailed with chortles, while the other lowered his head and shook it.
"No way!" Fat Pa ordered, throwing his tea towel wryly at one of the old men beside Sarilya who, Niphrediel supposed, were regulars. He reached out and clasped Sarilya gently by the jaw as he shook his head in a definite refusal. "Family does not pay family," he said tenderly before bellowing: "Both of you drink on the house!" and walking away to serve another.
"Fine!" Sarilya yelled after Fat Pa, and she knew he listened even before he turned back and waved an arm at Sarilya to be quiet. "But I am buying you a new apron the next time you see me! You had better wash it, too." With a shake of her head, Sarilya slid the tiny pile of coins to the elderly men to her left. "Drink well, you darn old-timers," she jested with a grin. They both let out a trail of inaudible thanks, but Niphrediel supposed that the twinkles in their eyes were enough gratitude for Sarilya. Judging by their garb, Niphrediel guessed they made that same amount of coins through a half a day of labour.
"That was decent of you," Niphrediel told Sarilya once she had turned back around, taking a sip of her sweet ale. After their little run to the tavern, Niphrediel noticed she was quite parched— so she let herself take a long gulp of the brew before peeling her lips away from the pint's tip.
Sarilya shrugged her shoulders, leaning against the bar-top. "No use me having those coins if I brought them especially for ale," she said simply. "What, with big ol' Fat Pa there demanding we drink for free." She appeared to realise then that Niphrediel was still clueless about the connection she had with him. "He is Aradras's father," she told her. "Though it is hard to tell most of the time. He is so kind to me."
Niphrediel was surprised at the revelation, studying Fat Pa for any resemblance to his handsome son. As if Sarilya sensed what Niphrediel was looking for, she smiled and said: "Obviously, Aradras is more like his mother in looks. Fat Pa says it himself. In strength and toughness though, he is more like is father. Believe it or not, but back in his day, Fat Pa was one mean bar-fighter. He would visit taverns just to pick a fight!"
Although Niphrediel laughed, she was hardly surprised. "Speaking of Aradras, where is he?" she asked Sarilya, as the Lady-in-Waiting sculled back her giant pint with a mere gasp when she got to halfway.
Sparring a few pants before preparing a reply, Sarilya eventually let out, "I think he is coming with the boys." Quickly after, Sarilya remembered that Niphrediel was unaware of most local terminology, and thus would have had no idea what the boys constituted. "I mean, with the local boys."
Then, out of nowhere came Sarilya's next declaration: "But, no matter! By the time they arrive, we will be happily intoxicated and dancing like madwomen. Now… one, two, three, scull!"
And that was that. Fat Pa poured, Niphrediel and Sarilya drank. Sarilya decided to make a game of it, by trying every drink on the menu regardless of wether how sour, sweet, dull and strong of taste it was. While Sarilya's favourite was the exceptionally sweet pint, which she finished in less than ten seconds, Niphrediel favoured the more sour-tinted brew. Before long, they were running around like children— laughing, squealing and carrying on in play.
"Drum, drum, drum!" Sarilya ordered the musician who pattered on the small drum on his lap, who laughed openly with a simple nod and did as she asked. A few people were dancing already, but even they, eventually, came to surround Sarilya as she danced; her skirt pulled to her shins so that her feet could more with ease. As one man began to clap, and then another, Niphrediel, who sat on the outskirts, let out a cheer and began to clap too. To both the drum of the musician and the beating of slapping palms, Sarilya stamped her feet bounced in circles; her waist turning in obvious but non-appetising rotations.
It was a dance of innocent and fun girlhood— not the seducing womanhood. And Sarilya portrayed it nicely, til she came to a stop, though while still dancing on the spot; her hands in waving-motions for Niphrediel to get up from her stool and come to her.
Hiccuping after taking the last scull from her latest pint, Niphrediel settled her empty glass down on a tabletop when she saw Sarilya motioning for her. "No, no, no," she pleaded tiredly with an exasperated expression as Sarilya leaned forward and took her arm. The people, young and old, who had gathered around Sarilya let out bellows of applause and cheers of encouragement as Sarilya pulled Niphrediel to her feet and got her to dance with her.
Sarilya let out a long trail of laughter as she clasped Niphrediel's hands and swung them around, her feet leading Niphrediel's as they skipped and pointed and jumped. As the musicians began to get bolder and faster in their beat, the girls sped up and did their very best to keep up. At first, it was simple, and all Niphrediel noticed was that Sarilya was spinning them around a little faster— then her grip on Sarilya's tightened and panted excitedly between each jump that would take them that much more around in a perfect circle, and she could not focus on a passing face except Sarilya's: which looked back at her with sparkling eyes, flushed cheeks and a broad smile.
And then, they spun out! Sarilya's had lost their grip on Niphrediel's and they both went tumbling back from their own speed. Though it was the end of the game, those who watched seemed to find it worth of cheering, applause and laughter.
Sarilya was caught by one of the middle-aged bar wenches, whom she declared her 'handsome rescuer' and batted her eyelashes wryly as she handed her unused hanky to her as her 'favour' and 'token of gratitude'. The bar wench shook her head with a laughing expression as Sarilya kissed her on the cheek, and jokingly pushed her away soon after.
Niphrediel's landing was a little nicer. While she did fall into someone, it was not with the same force as Sarilya, although her back did slap into them and they had to keep her steady by hooking their arms beneath hers to prevent her from falling onto the ground. Niphrediel's face was upturned, bright and skin lightly gleaming by both sweat and spilt ale.
"Sarilya!" she let out, still in the clutches of her rescuer. Sarilya pointed her finger at Niphrediel and shook her head, laughing loudly before noticing Aradras standing by. He, surrounded by a laughing group of other young men who undoubtedly made up what was called the boys, stood with one arm draped over his chest, and his spare hand half upon his chin and his mouth— his mouth that was arched in an incredulous smile.
Sarilya looked back at him, and obvious recognised his look of disbelief since she held out her arms as if she had no idea what she had done to deserve it. "What?" she asked him, slowly moving closer to him with a wide smile. "What??" Niphrediel could not hear what Sarilya said next, since the musicians started up again, before draping her arms over Aradras's shoulders and kissing him. The boys groaned and send each other wry grins and eye-rolls whilst sipping from their own pints.
Glancing at Aradras and Sarilya, Niphrediel was struck with sudden envy. At the both of them.
Niphrediel then quickly picked herself from a state of half-crouching, half-being carried. She gathered herself up to her feet and felt the strong but lean arms remove from beneath the hook beneath each of her arms, letting out a few more chuckles of her own before turning around to thank her catcher. "Thank you!" she had already said, before she was properly facing the man who had been so lucky as to catch her.
Legolas's eyebrows were raised, brushing against the hem of the bandana he wore upon his head that covered his airs. The rest of his hair was tied at the back of his head with a thong, and he had thrown on a black Gondorian-tailored cloak over his elven tunic to make himself seem all the more inconspicuous. He did not appear to be overly pleased at what he saw, or perhaps Niphrediel just assumed so.
She squirmed a little under his gaze, her hands letting go of her skirt and making sure the shoulders of her gown had not dropped down and that her hair remained in place. "Legolas," she said eventually, forcing herself to look him in the eye as she fought quickly to catch what breath she had lost when she had been dancing.
"Niphrediel," Legolas responded with a more monotonous intonation, his hands folding into each other against the flat of his stomach. "Having fun?" He did not speak with venom, but the sound of his voice made Niphrediel frown.
"Yes, I am," she replied honestly, leaning in a fraction so that she would not have to yell over the loud-talking people around her. "What are you doing here?"
Legolas shrugged his shoulders then, but looked a little less impartial than he did before; tilting his head a little to his left. "Arwen noticed you were not around when the evening had ended," he said in a matter-of-factly manner, before his face exploded in a smile that could murder a rainbow. "Well, that and I heard you two whispering. I am an elf, you know— insulting our ways of carousing? How rude."
Being faced then with the brute of Legolas's humour, Niphrediel knew she was not going to get into any sort of 'trouble', even though she would find it very unfair is she did— she was not a child to be barricaded in the very city she has practically been forced to call home. Well… perhaps not forced but something like that, surely. Persuaded, perhaps.
Niphrediel found her own mouth spreading in a wide grin in response, and she patted Legolas on the shoulder. "Well then, get a few more pints of ale into you, elfling," she declared, although made sure to murmur the name-calling part in case someone were to hear. Not that it would be so awful is someone would. "So you can be happy like me."
"You are not happy," Legolas remarked with a low chuckle, looking Niphrediel over with his casual gaze. "You are intoxicated."
"Hey," Niphrediel said, taking an awkward step backwards with her arms outstretched. "Same thing, laddie." Before she banged into the dancing couple behind her, Legolas pulled her in by the arm before speaking again.
"Besides," he went on to say. "It takes more then what I imagine this tavern has to offer to get me intoxicated."
"Why is that?" Niphrediel asked him, unable to keep her feet still.
Legolas gave an idle glance to Fat Pa and a few of the bar-wenches at the bar. "Well, unless they were able to give me a drum of ale to be drank by none other then myself, it will likely have no effect whatsoever on me," Legolas looked back down on Niphrediel with raised brows. "Elven tolerance for alcohol," he said pointedly. "Keeping elves sober since the First Age!"
"Is Elanor here?" Niphrediel asked suddenly, rising onto her tiptoes so that she could look out over the tavern over Legolas's shoulder.
"Yes," Legolas replied, an eyebrow quirked. "I left her outside after I ripped off her sleeve and tied it around my head."
With narrowed, incredulous eyes— Niphrediel slowly brought her gaze up to the bandana on Legolas's head, before the elf gave her a soft shove to her shoulder. "Of course she is not here," he said. "What, do you believe we are joined at the hip or something of that nature, Niphrediel?"
Niphrediel disliked the elf's nonchalance— the way he reacted as if there was absolutely no evidence that she had to assume that there was a possibility that, just perhaps, Elanor was there. "Well, if the shoe fits, Legolas," she retorted calmly, before turning and making her way to Sarilya who was partaking in another gulp of ale as Fat Pa and Aradras conversed on the other side of the bar. Aradras must have decided to help his father out with serving the ale after noticing the large populace of the tavern.
"Niphrediel!" Legolas moaned after her with a heavy sigh, and Niphrediel looked back at him with an exasperated look. She felt her frustration and anger for him die away, even before she tripped and began to slide backwards after her slippers slid against a puddle of spilt ale.
With a yelp, Niphrediel fell unceremoniously onto her behind with a slap from the floor.
"Hey!!" squealed a surprised Sarilya, who jumped quickly from her stool and rounding Niphrediel. She bent down behind her and hooked her arms around Niphrediel's stomach and urged her upwards, laughing all the while. "You drunkard!" she found Niphrediel's fall a little too funny for a sober mind— as did Niphrediel, who joined her in a long fit of giggles.
"I am not a drunkard!" Niphrediel protested once she was hauled to her, turning around to face Sarilya who still kept a sisterly hold of her arm. A sparkle of playfulness became alit in Niphrediel's eyes then, as she and Sarilya shared a long moment of silent consideration of each other's gazes. "Sarilya," she began.
"Yes?" Sarilya replied.
"Lets go swimming!"
Legolas brought his hand over his brow as he looked from one mortal girl to the other. He somehow knew Niphrediel was going to bring up the glade, and the waterfall they had come across some time before, and he was hardly relieved from it.
"Oooh, swimming!" Sarilya's face brightened at the thought— her approval of the idea so blatant then that she did not need to speak on and say yes. She bounced on her feet, like a hound waiting for its owner to let go of their bone. "Aradras!" she hollered, looking over her shoulder to the young man pouring a happy patron a pint.
"What is it, Sarilya?" Aradras replied mechanically, as if it were all routine, his eyes unmoving from his work.
There was no hesitation. "Lets go for a swim," was what Sarilya said next, although it sounded more an order then a request. It did not seem to bother Aradras much.
"Swim?" Aradras did not seem very enthusiastic. "I cannot, I think I am going to have to stay with pa and help out tonight. But where would you swim anyway?"
Sarilya appeared to consider that question most soberly, and did not seem bothered that Aradras could not attend. She fixed a perplexed gaze on Niphrediel. "Indeed, where?"
"A secret place," Niphrediel replied smartly, loud enough for Aradras to hear. It seemed to be enough for him to accept the invitation, and Niphrediel twirled happily on her feet to face Legolas again— as he stood tall and oblivious to the chatter around him, his eyes unwandering and unimpressed. He seemed to plead with her not to be silly, and go back to the citadel, all without a single word leaving his mouth.
Niphrediel took a step toward him with slumped shoulders, as if his disapproval meant that it was not possible for her to take Sarilya and Aradras out. "Oh, come on, Legolas," she begged, moving an inch closer moment by moment so that he could have a better view of her heartbroken façade. "Just a bit of fun, that is all I ask of you."
"You will fall and bang your head on a rock before we even get there!" Legolas argued, pulling his arms into a tighter cross over his chest. "And then word will spread to… you-know-who's ears that you were parading around like a drunkard in the company of none other but myself, and before you know it— Legolas is an elleth." His brow was furrowed in such a dark, serious frown; Niphrediel could not hold back laughter. The very tips of his mouth arched downwards, towards the floor.
With a wide, upward-arching lips, Niphrediel skipped merrily over to Legolas and placed her hands on either side of his face. With her thumbs pressed against his cheeks, she pulled his skin upwards into an artificial smile. She did it all with such ease, she blessed the pints of ale she had drank during the night. Every last one. She felt like it was normal between them— as if her episode with Sirion that night had not happened. She felt free, and she would make sure the feeling lasted.
She knew she was going to win the moment his eyes softened and averted from hers. She removed her hands as he began to speak, quietly in a murmur. "You will be the death of me," he sighed, his eyes falling to the floor as if he had done something wrong. He seemed to remember something suddenly, and glanced sideways to Sarilya, "Wait… I spoke to your father tonight. He said you were to send him three letters before luncheon tomorrow stating why you had not been able to attend some family function. Do you think its wise to play with that Lord's temper? I have been told it's like an inferno."
Sarilya slapped herself on the forehead with a swift and careless fling of her hand. Her drunken jolliness dissolved in a matter of seconds after Legolas spoke of her father, and the rosiness of her cheeks was suddenly gone. "Oh no, you are right," she said, turning her gaze to Niphrediel with both an apologetic and frightened visage. "Oh, in the name of Eru, I have to finish those," she told her, already giving her a hug in farewell. "Go anyway— would you like me to stay in your suite tonight or run along to my own."
"Your choice," mumbled an unhappy Niphrediel as she let Sarilya give her a hug without embracing back. She was too displeased to do so.
"Very well then," Sarilya responded with a nod, her intonation lacking its previous dullness that set in after her fourth pint. "I will stay in your chamber til' you sneak back in though, it will be too suspicious if that chamber is completely empty all night. Be quick," Sarilya moved in to give Niphrediel another, but shorter embrace. "Be careful."
"Are we still going to go?" Legolas asked Niphrediel once Sarilya released her.
Niphrediel almost wanted to slap him across the face. "Of course we are!"
Be careful? Niphrediel thought. Ha!
"Hurry up and jump!" Legolas shouted from the grassy patch, after climbing back out of the water. The water was deep and dark, but with Legolas's eyesight he assured Niphrediel that there was not anything unsettling swimming around there. Although he did see one or two tiny little 'creatures' crawling around the sand at the bottom, he noted the way they scattered when he threw a rock in, and decided not to tell Niphrediel of their existence.
They had been at the waterfall propped up against the backside of Mindolluin for at least an hour, and Niphrediel still had not jumped into the water. And, with a stroke of genius, the girl decided to climb up the water to its uppermost peak and jump down like a champion. At the time, when her feet were upon solid ground, Niphrediel eluded confidence and was completely certain that she was going to jump… but once she started to get higher and higher, the bravado began to waver.
"Be quiet!" she screeched back, huddled over herself like a scared cat, looking out over the edge of the waterfall as if she was gazing into an inevitable doom. She wore her underdress and her hair was still kept up— how the ribbons had not come out was completely beyond her. She appeared to be concentrating on the pool beyond, as if it were an equation that had to be solved. Fool, she heard a voice scream inside her head.
Legolas swept his hair back and shook his head. Niphrediel had pushed him in straight after he had taken off his cloak, so he stood in an ensemble of soaked trousers and boots, and a once-fine tunic, but did not appear bothered about it. "Before I die of old age, please?" he requested boldly, a cheeky smile upon his face. Though he did not want to admit it, he had been happy Niphrediel had talked him into going. It was mere luck that both times she had forced him to take her places Aragorn would have frowned upon; it had been an enjoyable time for him as well.
"Oh, very funny, Legolas," Niphrediel nearly spat, clearly unimpressed with Legolas's quip (which made it all the more better to him). And, as if she had made her last effort, Niphrediel began to climb down.
Legolas let out a low cheer and began to dryly applause. "Oh, what is it, Princess? Do you think the pressure from landing on the water would chip a nail?" Legolas wanted to pat himself on the pat for that one!
"I will chip a nail on your hide, Legolas," Niphrediel threatened as she began to quickly jump down from one rock onto another, like a vast stair. "Prince or no."
"I would like to see you try, lass," was Legolas's impish response. "But I believe all the skirts you have been wearing since you have arrived in Gondor have made you a little, say, priggish."
"What?" Niphrediel exclaimed in disbelief as she jumped onto the grassy floor, still dry, still clean. Her eyes were wide and incredulous, and her mouth afar in shock. "What did you call me??" She readied to charge, the muscles in her body already tensing.
"Priggish," Legolas replied casually, his chin inching a fraction higher. He looked so proud of himself, with a smug grin smacked upon his face. "P.R.I.G.G.I.S.H.," he taunted her. "Priggish!"
Niphrediel charged! She bolted towards Legolas like a strike of lightning, jumping out at him before she was within arms-reach. He seemed to be ready for her though, for he caught her a little too easily— but was a little unprepared for handling her weight as well his balance, for he slipped backwards onto his own back and he and her began to unceremoniously wrestle. He was too preoccupied with protecting his hair from the handful of dirt and grass Niphrediel can snatched from the hearth, to notice how hard he truly landed upon the ground.
Trying to wriggle her arms out of the tight clasps Legolas had on her wrists, Niphrediel was struck by surprise when he managed to lash out at her side for a quick tickle— which caught her off guard for a mere blink of an eye but gave him enough time to turn them both, so that he had the advantage of being higher. With elvish reflexes, of course Legolas had no problem with catching Niphrediel's limbs before they neared his face a little too close. But keeping grip became a little difficult. Although she lashed out, and he had a little trouble getting reasonable holds of her arms— he eventually did.
"I wiiiin, you priggish princess," Legolas declared with pride as he sat above Niphrediel, his hands gripping her forearms that crossed over her chest in a solid grip. Although Niphrediel tried to release herself from moving her entire body from side to side, it did not work.
"Not fair," Niphrediel muttered in frustration. "You are a male, you have immediate advantages!"
"You charged at me," Legolas told her, obvious choosing to disagree that his victory was anything less than that. "You had the element of surprise, which makes it somewhat even."
Although Niphrediel tried not to think about it, she felt so relieved. They had played the entire time they had arrived at the waterfall, and she had not felt uncomfortable, uncertain or embarrassed once. Even as she pressed her down upon the grassy floor, looking down on her with a wide smile— she felt nothing that she should not have. Nothing wrong or bad. She was free! Niphrediel began to have great hope that her night with Sirion meant absolutely nothing. It was her own imagination; she and Legolas were fine.
"I did not!" Niphrediel defended herself, before bucking Legolas from her with a raised knee. She turned quickly on the grass and jumped up into a sprint, hoping to make a run for the trees. But she was not fast enough. An arm looped around her waist and, while Niphrediel could see her legs still moving beneath her kicking skirt, she knew her slippered feet were no longer treading upon ground.
"No!" she cried, her hands flying over Legolas's to pry it away as she felt him rise and fall with each great footstep that brought her closer to the pool. While she had had every intention of having a dive into it, at the very least, being faced with no choice suddenly made Niphrediel fight back against being thrown in. But she could not. She squealed and made sounds alike to a cry in desperation, though no tears fell. She tried to turn her head so that she could look Legolas in the eye, but she could not twist around enough to see his a-cursed mouth that let out a loud cackle before she was thrown into the water.
She was back in the water again. Suspended and still, her arms outstretched and her legs slightly parted. She looked around the blue liquid prison, each whip of her head seeming so slow and tiring all at the same time. Niphrediel's hands pulled into a clench as she eventually came to look up and the sharp light that shone beyond the water level.
Not again. Oh no, not again.
The light beyond the water danced, and as Niphrediel looked at it more and more, she felt herself become angry. Not merely angry, but enraged.
Come and get me then, you coward, she thought— she knew where the dream was going. She knew what was going to happen. She knew she could not do a damned thing to stop it, or defend herself from it. Niphrediel had tried with all her might the first time and nothing had come from that.
As tough as her thoughts might have made her out to be, Niphrediel was still terrified.
Wake up, she thought. Niphrediel, wake up. This is a dream. You are dreaming. Wake up.
Niphrediel closed her eyes and pleaded with the darkness there to release her to natural light. Sunshine. Moonlight. Anything but the endless blue that greeted her when she eventually pried her eyelids back once again.
And then came the jolt, and a flash of memory filled the void— as if she was reliving her last nightmare once again.
Suddenly it was, that a loud sound shock Niphrediel's eardrums to their very core; a sound that made it seem as if the very earth was breaking. Niphrediel's eyes widened in astonishment as she watched the blue lights join to form a face, dark, ugly, and sinister. A pair—large, dark and blue— plundered through the surface of the water, so fast that Niphrediel's heavy limbs could not possibly fend them off once Niphrediel realised exactly what they were after… her neck.
Niphrediel tried to move, but her strength was completely torn from her. She clasped the wrists of the unholy being as it locked around her neck, and tried to fight them in every way she could possibly think of. As those hairy, blood-dirtied hands locked around her neck and pressed down— Niphrediel felt the monster press down and could feel the water brushing up against her back and hair as she was forced down.
As Niphrediel banged once more against the bottom, she squirmed with great rebellion. She refused to live the nightmare over again. She clamped her hands against the pair that held her neck in its undying embrace and fought with what strength the water did not rob from her. Not again, she prayed, the voice echoing through her very mind so very determined— or desperate.
Not again!!
Niphrediel knew she was heard, as her eyes glared up at the light beyond the water with enough venom to murder a snake. She stopped fighting, but shook her head— she was not going to go through it again.
Angered by her rebellion, the hands drew her painfully up from the water's floor by the neck. Niphrediel tried to ignore the click, but whimpered despite her effort to keep some sort of strong visage. And then, with all the amazing and inhumane brute and strength that it possessed, the hands brought her back down toward the floor with enough force to crush a cow. Niphrediel knew what was happening before she felt the water gush upwards from every part of her body.
Bang.
Niphrediel broke through the water-surface with a gasp, her entire body tingling with tiny little chills. The water was cool, so cool that Niphrediel imagined it would not be completely wrong to think that some might even call it freezing. But, with the warm air of the night, and Niphrediel's body's higher-temperature; she thought it not unpleasant in the least.
What, in the name of all that is holy, made me remember that dream like that? Pushing aside conscience, Niphrediel's jaw locked defiantly, and she resisted thinking about it. The stupid vision had no right disturbing her most casual conversion she had been able to have with Legolas in a few days. She robbed it of such a power.
But with a few pants, she used symmetrical, outward strokes of her arms to direct her back to the rocky edge. She ignored the severe aching around the flesh of her neck by speaking, even when she had an unexpected thrash of thunder to compete with. "You tyrant," she said, pulled her body up onto the edge and rising to her feet.
She was soaked to the bone, her hair half-in and half-out of the plated spiral on the back of her head. The most of it fell down her back with the sticky fabric of her underdress, which she quickly separated from her skin straight after she resurfaced.
Her face must have looked miserable as she looked down and brushed her skirt down. The thunder began to boom with a little more confidence as a dripping hand, which did not belong to Niphrediel, grasped her face by the chin and tilted it upwards.
"Smile," Legolas nagged when Niphrediel's face looked directly up to him. "Smile like you mean it."
With a slow hesitance, Niphrediel did as the elf asked. The tips of her mouth drew her lips apart, as it was meant to, and with some strain. Her top lip appeared thinner that way, in comparison to her fuller bottom lip— and her white teeth were set pleasantly between them both. Had her eyes displayed mirth instead of amusement and curiosity, her smile would have been a fine one. Finer, anyway.
"You made me feel like a child," he told her, the same words he had given her in Lothlorien.
Niphrediel was unsure with how to respond, so she thought it best to say what she had told him once before: "You… are a child."
Legolas released Niphrediel's chin with a proud flick of his hand. "Better," he spoke of her smile, before he looked up to the unhappy sky— which, instead of being hued in a great, rich black, was actually a mixture of blue and grey in pre-dawn delight. Niphrediel had not realised how long her evening had been— in a couple hours, the sun would rise! But, apparently, not before the rain would begin to fall.
And then it did.
"We had best be going now," Legolas said, already gathering up his cloak from a nearby rock. "Get your overdress."
Niphrediel simply nodded before running to one of the trees to her far left, where she had hooked her overdress over a branch. She put it on quickly, and though she did not ask for assistance; Legolas helped her with the laces at the back. Though both of their skins glimmered in a telltale fashion that they had, indeed, been swimming or fallen victims to a moving wall of water, the rain that began to pour like tears from the heavens would give them both a liable excuse for their clothing's disarray.
"Done!" she said, before he grabbed her hand. With Legolas in the lead, he and Niphrediel raced through the trees— laughing, tripping (or at least, from Niphrediel), and playing around in general. Although it was mellow things as they dodged the trees, once they reached the paddocks— they had free reign to do whatever they wanted.
Niphrediel jumped onto Legolas's back and slowed him down (somewhat) by bending her legs and taking her feet off the ground. Despite himself, Legolas laughed loudly and twisted left and right in attempts to get her off. They unsteadied him instead, and Niphrediel let out a mixture of a cheer and a scream as Legolas plummeted into a pile of mud— service of the hearty rain.
He landed on his side, and let out both laughter and a groan in disgust. A strange mixture. Initially, his eyes were closed as he heard the 'squash' as he slapped into the mud, but when they opened— and were fixed on Niphrediel who, at the last minute let go and was able to remain standing and out of the mud, with deadly accuracy. His entire side was covered in mud, from the collar of his tunic to the side of his boot. Niphrediel was going to pay.
"Ooooh, no!" Although Niphrediel knew she was smiling at her doom, she could not keep herself from giggling. For a long moment, they simply looked at each other— one daring the other to move so that they could run, or give chase. Niphrediel decided to go first, and began to run; squealing like a child even before her punishment landed upon her.
Gathering a handful of the reasonable running mud, Legolas got up and sprinted straight after her. It was not hard to catch up to her, for not only was he an elf; but Niphrediel struggled with two layers of long skirts! When Niphrediel came into arms reach— Legolas grabbed the back of her collar and pulled her back. So slippery was the ground that his simple tug brought Niphrediel falling flat onto her behind on the dirty floor. He pulled her back all the more, leaning over her from behind in a half-crouch, so that he could see her face screwed up in a whimper.
"Legolas!" Niphrediel cried, looking up at him. "No!"
But Legolas was too quick. Half-way through her 'no', Legolas shoved his handful of mud down the back of her gown— which made her back straighten and mouth part in a short scream. He cleaned the rest of the must from his hand by wiping it on Niphrediel's forehead, cheeks and chin; giving her rather handsome stripes on each place.
As if Legolas was going to attack her again, once he let her go— Niphrediel was up and running again. Like a hungry wolf, Legolas thought it swell to be a bully and punish her one last time; so he chased her again and tripped her gently by reaching throwing her into a soft patch of grass and mud.
With a loud squash, Niphrediel landed with a feigned whimper on the patch— and though Legolas was proud of himself and his victory, he thought that since she was, by then, as filthy (if not a little more) then he was, it was fair for him to help her up.
"Come along, then," he said, walking around so that he stood in front of her as she fought to release her elbow from the clutched of the swallowing mud. He held out his hands to her, and was greeted with laughter— at what, he did not know… but he simply assumed it was her mighty fall— before his palms came into contact with hers. Although he did not know why, Legolas laughed too, and found he could not stop himself. He shook his head pitifully as he pulled Niphrediel up, and steadied her with a hand against her waist should her slippers slide against the slippery surface of the mud and drowning grass once more.
They laughed long, and when Niphrediel looked up to see all the mud that covered the most of Legolas's left side— her eyes glimmered with tears and her cheeks turned pink. But, as funny as he looked, Niphrediel's laughter stopped mid-air once her eyes trailed upwards and set themselves on his face.
She could feel a black whole swallow the freedom she had thought she had felt all through her time with him that night. The faith she had that she would never feel uncomfortable or think of things forbidden about her dear friend came crashing down like a pile of bricks as she found herself admiring the pure and unmatchable beauty that was positioned so close to her that she could feel cold breath blowing subtly against her face.
Oh no, she thought as she felt Legolas stiffen and saw his smile dwindle. She looked at the way his hair fell in slick parts when it was drenched with water, still tidy and beautiful— and the way his eyes grew suddenly sombre when he realised that she was no longer laughing. The studied a raindrop that landed upon his forehead with a splat that, somehow, she could hear inside her head like the beat of an earthquake. The raindrop rolled down, sliding down the slope of his cheeks, beside his straight, elegant nose… before trailing down to his bottom lip.
Before she knew what she was doing, Niphrediel found herself following the raindrop by leaning too quickly for her to pull back. As her heart thumbed in the cavern that was her chest, Niphrediel felt her body react with sudden life— as if it was not her mind or logic, but her body that demanded something that she knew in her heart that she should not have.
Niphrediel pressed her lips against Legolas's without enough hesitation to breathe first. She felt her blood rush with adrenaline as her mouth locked itself against his— like a fungus to a tree. Like a blood-sucking bat, Niphrediel drew from Legolas, her lips moving against his. While her hands, clenched at her side, seemed to know before her very conscience kicked in, that what she was doing was wrong— every other part of Niphrediel's body and soul screamed out yes.
Good was a word incapable of describing what she felt. His lips were like satin, and Niphrediel's own lips could feel every single detail of it. She tilted her head to the side, and felt herself move an inch closer so that her own chest touched his. She could taste the raindrop she had been so envious of as she kissed him— the moisture providing a base that easily swerved against her mouth.
But then Niphrediel's eyes bolted open, and she realised what she was doing. And then, almost worst of all— she realised that while she had been joyously satisfying herself… Legolas's own mouth had not moved once. He had not moved backwards, he had not kissed her back…. Legolas had not responded at all.
As if the arm of her conscience reached out and push her, Niphrediel leaped backwards. Her skin was pale, her eyes wide, and mouth parted in horror. No, she prayed. Oh no, no, no, no, oh please no. Her hand came to cup her mouth as she took one step backwards and then another. She waited for Legolas to speak, yet hoped in the name of Eru that he would not say anything.
Legolas just stood there— his features still, mouth unmoving. Niphrediel searched his expression rapidly through unblinking, tear-gathering eyes, and could feel the very tissue of her heartburn as she discovered that he looked as horrified and shaken as she did. She suddenly did wish him so speak, or say something that could give her some suggestion as to how much of a forsaken fool she was.
What had she done?
Or perhaps Niphrediel was a liar, for she blurted something out before Legolas had the chance to speak. "I-I-I," she stammered, tears falling down her face freely. "Legolas… I am so sorry," she whimpered, before turning around and running away, as if for dear life. Niphrediel did not care that she could trip to her knees more times than she would have hoped for— she just wanted to escape.She wanted to escape what she had done, and the condemning eyes of an elf that she would be forever shameful to call her friend.
Crying, whimpering and gasping… Niphrediel ran all the way to the King's House.
She did not stop til she burst through the door of her bedchamber and locked it behind her.
She did not stop til she fell into a soaked, mud-drenched heap on the floor against the wall.
She did not stop til she pressed her face against Sarilya's lap, lying upon the floor in her raggedy gowns, and cried.
What had she done?
Hope you liked it! I'm alive!!! ;) Or… at least, semi-alive.
Think I got it right??? Hrm. I'm not sure. I rushed it tonight, it's
2:34 PM. I had meeeega-problems with the kiss. I suck.
R/R!!!!!
