Chapter 11
A month later, on the dot, Silva leapt out of bed. She pulled the bandage off and did a happy dance all around the room.
"I can walk! I can walk! I can walk! I can walk!" she sang. "And today's the day I do archery again. YAY! This is going to be good!" She sent a message to Thranduil, informing him she was up and about but that she wouldn't be joining him for breakfast. It also asked him to ask Legolas if he would resume teaching her that day. She had paid very close attention to the target practices that were done beneath her bedroom window almost every morning. She felt pretty confident that she knew what to do now, it was just a matter of doing it.
"Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please," she kept repeating it, hoping Legolas would agree. He would definitely like the dress she had made most recently and was going to wear today. It was a little unorthodox but Elven standards, but hey, you never got anywhere unless you bent the rules a little sometimes.
She dressed fairly slowly. She checked the new dress over to make sure there were no holes, loose threads or needles still in the dress anywhere. Once this was done, she pulled it on and looked at her reflection. 'Very nice,' she thought. 'It's all good.'
She made her way to the throne room, taking in everything that was around her. The only journey she'd made over the past month was to the bathroom and that was only next door. She hadn't seen any of the castle for a month, so she just let herself subconsciously travel whilst she relaxed. She received several wolf whistles from the men and generally tuts and mutterings of disgust fm the women (though there was the occasional look of admiration). 'Well, I shouldn't expect anything else,' she thought. 'After all, it is different.'
As she approached the throne room, the guards were so shocked they almost forgot to open the door for her. She smiled sweetly at them as she passed and they stared after her for a moment.
"Good morning, my lord," she said. He was reading some kind of report when she entered so he wasn't looking up. He had an empty goblet in his hand that rested over nothing. When he heard that familiar voice he smiled and looked up. The goblet fell to the floor with a very loud clatter.
"Silvawen!" he exclaimed. She began to giggle.
"Good morning, my lord," she repeated.
"What the devil are you wearing?!" he cried, half in admiration, half in disgust.
"Do you like it? I made it myself," she said. All he could do was stare. "I told you my ideas were different." The dress was 'different' indeed. It was deep forest green with delicate, silver embroidery on the tight, low- cut bodice. The sleeves went slightly wider at the wrists, after the fashion of the Elves. But the most shocking part of all (from the Elves point of view) was the knee length skirt.
"They most certainly are," said Thranduil, after a long time.
"I apologise if you don't approve, my lord," she said, "but I have long desired a dress such as this. When the opportunity arose to make one myself, my own personal design, I didn't hesitate. I hope you don't mind."
"Mind? No, not at all," he said. He chose admiration. After all, if she was going to flaunt what she'd got, why not?
"Have you spoken to your son?" she asked.
"Son?" he replied, blatantly staring at her cleavage. She smothered a laugh.
"Yes, sire, your son," she said. "Legolas. Have you spoken with him since receiving my message?"
"Oh, yes, yes of course, er... yes, I have," said Thranduil. "He said he will resume your lessons. He asked me to tell you to meet him where you had your first and last lesson."
"You know, the way you tell it, it sounds he actually spoke nicely," said Silva. "But I know for a fact that he didn't. I don't think it's in his capability to be nice to or about me."
"You know that's not true, Silva," said Thranduil.
"It is true," she said.
"Well, ok, so it is, but you shouldn't automatically presume," said Thranduil. "He has agreed to continue your lessons. Oh yes, he said 12 o'clock, as well."
"Then I should leave now," said Silva. "And he only agreed because you made him." The two began to laugh.
"Be off with you," said Thranduil, lightheartedly. "You find too many truths behind my words." She turned and started to walk away.
"No, I just know your son."
Although she still had yet an hour until she was meeting Legolas, she set off. She had been deprived of the most important thing to her for too long. For a month she had only been able to watch the Earth. For though vision is a wonderful thing, she desired to touch and taste and smell. She closed her eyes and let her senses guide her. She relaxed completely. It wasn't until she heard the distant toll of a bell that announced midday did she then remember her lesson.
She quickly found her way to that small clearing just out of the castle's sight. Legolas was already there, standing waiting, but he had his back to her. She approached silently and didn't make a sound until she stood but a metre away from him.
"Waiting for someone?" she asked. She watched his complete body tense up and he turned. "Good afternoon," she said, in the friendliest voice she could acquire. His jaw slowly fell open. As his father's had done, his eyes locked onto her bust.
"Legolas, that is very impolite," she said, though she was actually basking in all the attention she was receiving.
"Sorry," he muttered. His eyes dropped down to her legs. She pretended to sigh irritably.
"Well, I have to say, this isn't what I was expecting," she said.
"Me neither," he said.
"Look, can we get on with the lesson, please?" she said.
"Yes. Archery. Yes. Arrows. Target. Yes. Hold bow. Yes," he said, without moving his eyes. This time she really did sigh irritably. Although the attention was good, she was here for an archery lesson.
"Legolas, can you please remove your eyes from the various parts of my anatomy that are exposed and focus on the lesson? Else I may have to hurt you," she said. He painstakingly lifted his gaze, rested on her chest for a moment and then looked her in the eyes.
"I apologise," he said. "I don't know what *gulp* came over me." He allowed his gaze to slip subtly to her bust but quickly looked her in the face again.
"I do, but that's not the point," she said. "The point is I would like the lesson to go as it normally would without any unnecessary interruptions."
"Yes, of course," he said. "Well, yes, anyway, well, um, do you wish for me, um, to show you, or not?"
"Please," she said. He did so, but some reason he wasn't quite on form. Though he was hitting the target, it was nothing like central. 'I wonder why,' she thought smugly.
"Thank you," she said. "I presume you wish me to follow your example now, yes?"
"Yes," he said, distantly. She took the bow off him and hesitated. Although she knew what to do, she couldn't do it. All the knowledge she took in whilst watching the target practices had disappeared. 'Oh crap!' She held it up awkwardly, the same as the disastrous time before. On seeing this, Legolas began to worry. She wouldn't be stupid enough to shoot herself again, but she could very easily shoot him. And if she did shoot herself, he couldn't be doing with another month (or longer) of his father constantly talking about her, visiting her, worrying about her. It was too much.
"Let me show you," he said. He went over and stood behind her (not as reluctantly as he usually would have done) where he just happened to have a very good view down her top. He placed her hands on the bow properly, positioned her body in the right stance and tilted her head so she could see her target well enough.
"Keep both eyes open," he instructed, but she was too busy revelling in the moment to pay attention. He was pretty much pressed up against her and his hands were over hers. 'So much physical contact,' she thought dreamily.
"Silvawen, keep both of your eyes open," said Legolas, again.
"Oh, sorry," she said, distantly. Legolas sighed and shook his head. He took a step back and she loosed the arrow.
"Oh dear," she said, when it completely missed the target and flew off into the forest. Apart from the fact that she missed the target, it was a very good shot. She turned to face him, but avoided eye contact.
"OOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!!!!!!" suddenly erupted from somewhere in the forest. Her back straightened up and she shoved the bow into Legolas' hands.
"Er...... there you go," she said then ran out of the clearing like a flash.
Legolas stood for a moment not completely understanding what was happening or had happened. He had to replay it in his head before he understood. 'Arrow shot, missed target, loud scream....'
"OH SHIT!!!" He threw the bow down and ran after Silva. (A/N: Think Sam in Farmer Maggot's field if you can't imagine it.)
Silva sat behind a tree giggling. 'I've got to do it. I've got to do it,' she thought. She could see him running in her direction, though he hadn't spotted her (she blended well with her surroundings) and when he was about a metre away from her, she stuck her foot out and sent him flying. He was shortly followed by an absolutely livid Elf with an arrow sticking out of his shoulder. He stopped when he saw Legolas sprawled across the floor.
"You know, that's such a great hiding place," said the wounded Elf, sarcastically. "Because I'm not going to see you there, am I? WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING?! Royalty or no royalty! You're the best damn archer in the realm! You have no excuse!!! How did you manage to miss the target?!" Silva couldn't let him take the blame (though he probably wasn't planning to) so she got up.
"Ouchie," she said, when she saw the Elf's shoulder. "Sorry about that. It was me, I did it. He was teaching me and I missed the target."
"Well, he didn't do a very good job, did he?"
"Look, I really am very sorry, I'm sorry to have caused you such a hassle," said Silva. "But it truly was an accident." The Elf hesitated. Everyone, except Legolas, had great respect for Silva and no one wanted her in trouble, no matter what she'd done. Of course the fact that she looked completely stunning had nothing to do with influencing his decision.
"Well...." he began, "you should be more careful. Maybe the bow and arrow isn't really your kind of weapon." With that, he walked away (although he did glance back to look her over once more).
"I think he's right," said Legolas. "You should stick with your sword." He began to walk away also and she sighed miserably to herself. 'Two lessons and I've already had two disasters. No wonder he's given up on me. I so badly wanted to learn as well. I really wanted a new skill. Something typically Elven. Wait.... I've got it!'
"Would you be willing to teach me Elvish?"
****************
A/N: For the sake of the fic, she (obviously) can't speak Elvish, even though I am fully aware that after living in the Valinor for countless centuries she would be able. The story line goes smoother if I do it this way. Don't flame me, you'll only be mocked. Luvs Elfie xXxXx
A month later, on the dot, Silva leapt out of bed. She pulled the bandage off and did a happy dance all around the room.
"I can walk! I can walk! I can walk! I can walk!" she sang. "And today's the day I do archery again. YAY! This is going to be good!" She sent a message to Thranduil, informing him she was up and about but that she wouldn't be joining him for breakfast. It also asked him to ask Legolas if he would resume teaching her that day. She had paid very close attention to the target practices that were done beneath her bedroom window almost every morning. She felt pretty confident that she knew what to do now, it was just a matter of doing it.
"Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please," she kept repeating it, hoping Legolas would agree. He would definitely like the dress she had made most recently and was going to wear today. It was a little unorthodox but Elven standards, but hey, you never got anywhere unless you bent the rules a little sometimes.
She dressed fairly slowly. She checked the new dress over to make sure there were no holes, loose threads or needles still in the dress anywhere. Once this was done, she pulled it on and looked at her reflection. 'Very nice,' she thought. 'It's all good.'
She made her way to the throne room, taking in everything that was around her. The only journey she'd made over the past month was to the bathroom and that was only next door. She hadn't seen any of the castle for a month, so she just let herself subconsciously travel whilst she relaxed. She received several wolf whistles from the men and generally tuts and mutterings of disgust fm the women (though there was the occasional look of admiration). 'Well, I shouldn't expect anything else,' she thought. 'After all, it is different.'
As she approached the throne room, the guards were so shocked they almost forgot to open the door for her. She smiled sweetly at them as she passed and they stared after her for a moment.
"Good morning, my lord," she said. He was reading some kind of report when she entered so he wasn't looking up. He had an empty goblet in his hand that rested over nothing. When he heard that familiar voice he smiled and looked up. The goblet fell to the floor with a very loud clatter.
"Silvawen!" he exclaimed. She began to giggle.
"Good morning, my lord," she repeated.
"What the devil are you wearing?!" he cried, half in admiration, half in disgust.
"Do you like it? I made it myself," she said. All he could do was stare. "I told you my ideas were different." The dress was 'different' indeed. It was deep forest green with delicate, silver embroidery on the tight, low- cut bodice. The sleeves went slightly wider at the wrists, after the fashion of the Elves. But the most shocking part of all (from the Elves point of view) was the knee length skirt.
"They most certainly are," said Thranduil, after a long time.
"I apologise if you don't approve, my lord," she said, "but I have long desired a dress such as this. When the opportunity arose to make one myself, my own personal design, I didn't hesitate. I hope you don't mind."
"Mind? No, not at all," he said. He chose admiration. After all, if she was going to flaunt what she'd got, why not?
"Have you spoken to your son?" she asked.
"Son?" he replied, blatantly staring at her cleavage. She smothered a laugh.
"Yes, sire, your son," she said. "Legolas. Have you spoken with him since receiving my message?"
"Oh, yes, yes of course, er... yes, I have," said Thranduil. "He said he will resume your lessons. He asked me to tell you to meet him where you had your first and last lesson."
"You know, the way you tell it, it sounds he actually spoke nicely," said Silva. "But I know for a fact that he didn't. I don't think it's in his capability to be nice to or about me."
"You know that's not true, Silva," said Thranduil.
"It is true," she said.
"Well, ok, so it is, but you shouldn't automatically presume," said Thranduil. "He has agreed to continue your lessons. Oh yes, he said 12 o'clock, as well."
"Then I should leave now," said Silva. "And he only agreed because you made him." The two began to laugh.
"Be off with you," said Thranduil, lightheartedly. "You find too many truths behind my words." She turned and started to walk away.
"No, I just know your son."
Although she still had yet an hour until she was meeting Legolas, she set off. She had been deprived of the most important thing to her for too long. For a month she had only been able to watch the Earth. For though vision is a wonderful thing, she desired to touch and taste and smell. She closed her eyes and let her senses guide her. She relaxed completely. It wasn't until she heard the distant toll of a bell that announced midday did she then remember her lesson.
She quickly found her way to that small clearing just out of the castle's sight. Legolas was already there, standing waiting, but he had his back to her. She approached silently and didn't make a sound until she stood but a metre away from him.
"Waiting for someone?" she asked. She watched his complete body tense up and he turned. "Good afternoon," she said, in the friendliest voice she could acquire. His jaw slowly fell open. As his father's had done, his eyes locked onto her bust.
"Legolas, that is very impolite," she said, though she was actually basking in all the attention she was receiving.
"Sorry," he muttered. His eyes dropped down to her legs. She pretended to sigh irritably.
"Well, I have to say, this isn't what I was expecting," she said.
"Me neither," he said.
"Look, can we get on with the lesson, please?" she said.
"Yes. Archery. Yes. Arrows. Target. Yes. Hold bow. Yes," he said, without moving his eyes. This time she really did sigh irritably. Although the attention was good, she was here for an archery lesson.
"Legolas, can you please remove your eyes from the various parts of my anatomy that are exposed and focus on the lesson? Else I may have to hurt you," she said. He painstakingly lifted his gaze, rested on her chest for a moment and then looked her in the eyes.
"I apologise," he said. "I don't know what *gulp* came over me." He allowed his gaze to slip subtly to her bust but quickly looked her in the face again.
"I do, but that's not the point," she said. "The point is I would like the lesson to go as it normally would without any unnecessary interruptions."
"Yes, of course," he said. "Well, yes, anyway, well, um, do you wish for me, um, to show you, or not?"
"Please," she said. He did so, but some reason he wasn't quite on form. Though he was hitting the target, it was nothing like central. 'I wonder why,' she thought smugly.
"Thank you," she said. "I presume you wish me to follow your example now, yes?"
"Yes," he said, distantly. She took the bow off him and hesitated. Although she knew what to do, she couldn't do it. All the knowledge she took in whilst watching the target practices had disappeared. 'Oh crap!' She held it up awkwardly, the same as the disastrous time before. On seeing this, Legolas began to worry. She wouldn't be stupid enough to shoot herself again, but she could very easily shoot him. And if she did shoot herself, he couldn't be doing with another month (or longer) of his father constantly talking about her, visiting her, worrying about her. It was too much.
"Let me show you," he said. He went over and stood behind her (not as reluctantly as he usually would have done) where he just happened to have a very good view down her top. He placed her hands on the bow properly, positioned her body in the right stance and tilted her head so she could see her target well enough.
"Keep both eyes open," he instructed, but she was too busy revelling in the moment to pay attention. He was pretty much pressed up against her and his hands were over hers. 'So much physical contact,' she thought dreamily.
"Silvawen, keep both of your eyes open," said Legolas, again.
"Oh, sorry," she said, distantly. Legolas sighed and shook his head. He took a step back and she loosed the arrow.
"Oh dear," she said, when it completely missed the target and flew off into the forest. Apart from the fact that she missed the target, it was a very good shot. She turned to face him, but avoided eye contact.
"OOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!!!!!!" suddenly erupted from somewhere in the forest. Her back straightened up and she shoved the bow into Legolas' hands.
"Er...... there you go," she said then ran out of the clearing like a flash.
Legolas stood for a moment not completely understanding what was happening or had happened. He had to replay it in his head before he understood. 'Arrow shot, missed target, loud scream....'
"OH SHIT!!!" He threw the bow down and ran after Silva. (A/N: Think Sam in Farmer Maggot's field if you can't imagine it.)
Silva sat behind a tree giggling. 'I've got to do it. I've got to do it,' she thought. She could see him running in her direction, though he hadn't spotted her (she blended well with her surroundings) and when he was about a metre away from her, she stuck her foot out and sent him flying. He was shortly followed by an absolutely livid Elf with an arrow sticking out of his shoulder. He stopped when he saw Legolas sprawled across the floor.
"You know, that's such a great hiding place," said the wounded Elf, sarcastically. "Because I'm not going to see you there, am I? WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING?! Royalty or no royalty! You're the best damn archer in the realm! You have no excuse!!! How did you manage to miss the target?!" Silva couldn't let him take the blame (though he probably wasn't planning to) so she got up.
"Ouchie," she said, when she saw the Elf's shoulder. "Sorry about that. It was me, I did it. He was teaching me and I missed the target."
"Well, he didn't do a very good job, did he?"
"Look, I really am very sorry, I'm sorry to have caused you such a hassle," said Silva. "But it truly was an accident." The Elf hesitated. Everyone, except Legolas, had great respect for Silva and no one wanted her in trouble, no matter what she'd done. Of course the fact that she looked completely stunning had nothing to do with influencing his decision.
"Well...." he began, "you should be more careful. Maybe the bow and arrow isn't really your kind of weapon." With that, he walked away (although he did glance back to look her over once more).
"I think he's right," said Legolas. "You should stick with your sword." He began to walk away also and she sighed miserably to herself. 'Two lessons and I've already had two disasters. No wonder he's given up on me. I so badly wanted to learn as well. I really wanted a new skill. Something typically Elven. Wait.... I've got it!'
"Would you be willing to teach me Elvish?"
****************
A/N: For the sake of the fic, she (obviously) can't speak Elvish, even though I am fully aware that after living in the Valinor for countless centuries she would be able. The story line goes smoother if I do it this way. Don't flame me, you'll only be mocked. Luvs Elfie xXxXx