Chapter Twenty: Trials and Tribulations
The pale dawn filtered coldly down through the stark branches of the trees, illuminating the lank strands of golden hair glinting in its cheerless light. Legolas lay in the fork of a tree's trunk, his arms wrapped around himself. He had long since stopped feeling his fingers and hands. His nose was frozen and his cheeks raw with cold. His stomach had gone hollow for lack of food.
It had been nearly two days since he had run away from the palace and he had lived as he could, finding the few edible roots and small shriveled berries that still clung stubbornly to the bushes at the forest floor. His shelter, such as it was, had been the trees he could climb or a small rock crevice that he could just squeeze himself into.
Stretching frozen limbs, he shook himself, rubbings his arms and chafing his hands to try to restore circulation in them. He climbed stiffly down from the tree and stood again on the pine and snow strewn carpet of the forest floor, looking all about him and listening carefully for any sound of pursuit. The complete and utter silence soothed him a little as it had been his constant companion for two days.
The forest receded in either direction to the end of sight, endless, marching trunks, their limbs flushed rose in the rising sun's light and their roots buried deep in the permafrost. There was no sign of any living thing and the world was cold and dim about him though the sun had began to ride up out of the east. On his right, the forest floor dipped into a small hollow at the bottom of which he could hear a stream trickling.
He drank as much of the icy water as his stomach would hold and, feeling full if not satisfied, he rose, wiping his dripping chin and sighed, his breath rising in a white plume of steam, curling into the dawn morning. His loneliness returning and the oppression of his flight and fear pressed around him in the quiet of early morning. But he was cheered by the sight of the sun after a sleepless, comfortless night spent in the trees, fearing every night sound and creak in the wind.
He knew he would die out here if he did not find proper food and shelter soon. The branches of the trees were no protection against the bitter winter wind that sliced through him like a knife and combed through his disheveled locks.
Thinking to warm up, Legolas began walking briskly, singing softly to himself to lift his spirits and push away the repressive silence smothering him. As the sun rode up the sky, Legolas held up a slender hand to shield his eyes from the dazzling brilliance of the snow reflecting the sun's bright radiance. His voice fell hoarse and he stopped, realizing that he had lost sight of the river. Grumbling at his own stupidity, he searched for a way up the nearest tree so he could see where he was but paused, listening carefully.
He thought he had heard something. The young elf felt eyes on him and the white hairs on the back of his neck rose in apprehension. He whirled round rapidly, searching every direction.
Nothing. Nothing but the dark trees creaking mournfully in the wind.
Still, Legolas felt uneasy.
Feeling exposed and open on the ground, he moved closer to the tree, hissing in pain as a thorn bush threading its poisonous way around the trunk cut his hand. The young elf pulled away, gazing at the blood on his fingertips. He sucked at the cuts on his finger, still straining his ears for any sign of pursuit.
Suddenly, he heard it. The sound of hooves. A soft rhythm beaten into the undergrowth down the path. Fear spiking through him, Legolas leapt nearly straight up into the air with the grace of a cat and caught a branch high above his head with one hand. He swung there for a moment before pulling himself up into the crook of a gnarled old tree. The golden-haired prince crouched fearfully, breathless, trying to keep as still as possible so as not to make any noise. He knew he still hung obtrusively in the open for there were no leafy branches at this time of year to conceal him but he squeezed himself into the smallest space possible, ducking down against the smooth branches of the tree. The hoofbeats grew louder with every passing minute as the young elf's eyes pinned themselves to the pathless woodland back the way he had come.
Out of the mists, a shadowy figure, mounted upon a coal grey steed and robed in deepest blue, edged between the trees, winding its way carefully through the thick ferns and massive trunked trees. Legolas waited in his perch as the horse halted mere paces from his hiding place. The hooded figure looked around and Legolas knew with a chilling certainty that it was looking for him. But who was it? He did not know this elf and no elf friendly to the King would be so hooded for the guards shot those unknown on sight. But this creature moved with stealth and made not the slightest noise. The sheer grace and power in the creature made known its race.
Suddenly, the figure dismounted and its dark cloak swept the ground as it peered this way and that around the trees. Legolas thought he had hidden his tracks fairly well as Kirar had shown him how in case he was ever pursued. But never had he expected to be hunted by one of his own kind- as though he were an animal!
The figure inspected the leaves at the foot of the tree the prince crouched in and Legolas silently groaned as he realized that he had left blood spattered on the leaves from whence he had cut his hand. He caught his breath as the creature gazed straight up at him and the hood fell back to reveal the horribly familiar features of a dark-haired elf with black eyes filled with hatred.
His dreadful shadow had found him.
"Still running, little prince?"
Legolas gasped in dismay and pushed himself further up into the tree, not caring how much noise he made as he slapped the grasping branches aside, retreating higher and higher into the thin boughs of the tree. With sure, confident movements, the other elf climbed up after him.
The golden-haired prince climbed faster as he heard the branches rustle urgently behind him. But the tree's limbs were growing thinner and would no longer hold him. There was no possible escape. But for one…
Summoning all his strength and dexterity, Legolas jumped from the tree, his heart leaping into his throat as he felt only air whistle past him. His groping hands caught suddenly and he clenched with all his might. He was jerked taut and nearly pulled his shoulders out of his sockets on a low bough of the next tree. His injured wrist screamed in agony and he dropped lightly to the ground with a small whimper, spinning frantically around to search for his pursuer.
Nothing.
The dark elf had utterly vanished though Legolas had sworn he had heard him behind him not a moment before.
"Legolas!"
Legolas whirled at the voice, his heart hammering in his chest and both shoulders and wrist throbbing. He nearly sobbed in relief to see Haldir flanked by his two companions, cantering furiously towards him.
Haldir vaulted from the saddle and seized the prince by the upper arms, looking him up and down quickly. Legolas suddenly realized how disheveled he must look with snapped twigs in his hair, dirt and blood smudging his hands. He absently wiped them on his trousers as he backed away from his friend, his gaze darting nervously overhead again.
"Legolas?"
He returned his gaze to Haldir who was looking at him in near-frantic agitation.
"Are you all right? Are you hurt?"
Legolas shook his head, ignoring the protestations of his wrist and shoulders.
"What are you doing out here?" he blurted out, cringing as he realized how rude he sounded. Haldir frowned slightly.
"We've been searching for you for days- your mother is near frantic." The prince looked down at his feet in shame. He had not thought of his mother when he had run away.
Legolas looked around suddenly as the woods moaned in the wind. They warned him: danger was still close at hand. His blue eyes raked the trees, searching once more for his pursuer. But he knew he would not find him.
The dark elf's face lit up with near-joy as he perched in an oak tree not thirty paces away. The proverbial two orcs with one arrow. It was all too perfect! He would slay the Lórien elves in their places and return with the prince in hand. Although he had strict instructions from Ainan not to hurt the boy overmuch, he would have to make a convincing work of an orc attack to make the charade complete.
Tindómëtir drew an arrow to his ear, smiling wickedly.
"I have you now," he whispered, taking his aim, slightly to the left of Haldir's right ear. Suddenly, Haldir's horse neighed restlessly and stepped sideways. The Lórien commander grabbed for his bridle as he felt a slight tug behind his shoulder then a tearing pain and he hissed in surprise.
Ancadal and Rameil immediately reacted, their bows in their hands with an arrow to the string before the deadly shaft had even halted its flight embedded in the leafy undergrowth.
"What was that?" Ancadal asked, his green eyes narrowed at the dark trees.
"Commander, are you all right?" Rameil asked at the same time, having noted the red stain seeping through the other elf's tunic. Haldir reached over his shoulder and gently touched the stinging score the arrow had opened in his back. He retracted his hand, glancing at his blood-smeared fingertips.
"Fine- 'tis just a scratch." He returned his gaze to the path before him and frowned.
"Legolas?" he called out.
But the prince had vanished again.
Legolas had run as soon as he'd heard the whistle of the arrow, thinking it meant for him. Someone had been sent to kill me he thought wildly, his heart thundering in his chest. Even though he was in danger, he could not bring risk to anyone else. He had to get away or Haldir and his friends would die too. His sobs choked with breathlessness, he tripped and sprawled in the snow, picked himself up again and stumbled on. He didn't know where he was going. He didn't care He just knew he had to get as far away as fast as he could.
As Legolas leapt lightly over a fallen trunk across his intended path, his limbs suddenly caught in midair as though he'd been frozen or jerked like a puppet on a string. He struggled to move but it was like trying to fight water. In the dim light, he could not see what held him but he felt it and his heart froze with terror.
He was caught tightly in a spider's web. He craned his head as far back as it would go, trying in vain to free himself but the sticky threads were as strong as wire and held him fast. Its black weaver was thankfully nowhere to be found.
"Well, well, it appears I have you just where I want you, little prince- caught like a fly in a spider's web." A malicious voice laughed out of the darkness.
Legolas wrenched his head to the side so he could see over his shoulder even as he entangled himself further in the web.
"Very thoughtful of that spider to truss you up for me- saves me a lot of trouble from killing you myself," Tindómëtir hissed as he stepped into the younger elf's line of vision. He had no orders to kill the prince but Legolas didn't know that and the dark elf had long become addicted to the smell of fear.
And the young elf stank of it.
Tindómëtir's shadowy hair and black garb created a disconcerting sense of disembodiment giving Legolas the alarming impression that he was staring more at a ghost than a living, breathing creature.
"Spiders like fresh meat. Do you know what it will do to you, little one?" the dark elf smiled, pacing closer. He drew a knife lazily from his belt and absently traced the quivering child's back.
"It'll sting you in the neck or shoulder," he said, running the blade between Legolas' shoulder blades. "Then… if you live, when you awake- in pain and dying of thirst- it will wrap you in its sticky threads until you can no longer move." Tindómëtir's black eyes glittered with an inhuman evil and Legolas flinched as the knifepoint pricked his ear. "So you can watch it whilst it eats you alive."
"Legolas!"
The name echoed through the wood and the prince felt a slight tug of hope- Haldir was still alive and searching for him! Tindómëtir's face darkened into a scowl as he turned in the direction from whence the voice had come. Then he shot a glance upwards and a devious smile crossed his face as he faded into the shadows.
This could not have worked out more perfectly! Tindómëtir thought darkly, watching as Haldir ran towards the young prince and tried to cut Legolas loose from the web. He would not even need to waste his arrows on them. The spider would do his work for him as he watched the bulbous body slide on silent legs from the concealing alcove in the shadows far above their heads. He could circle about and kill the other two on his way back to the palace.
Upon further reflection, perhaps he would just let the spider kill them both. He was granting the child a mercy really- keeping him out of Ainan's cruel hands. The dark elf, too, knew the bitter taste of the vile elf's lash. With that, he disappeared into the foliage.
Legolas heard the small, knowing screech and looked up, biting back a scream of horror.
"Haldir! Up!" he shouted in warning. The elf captain looked up sharply as the spider flung itself upon the helpless body of the prey trapped in its web. Legolas screamed and his thrashing against the spider only served to further entangle him in the web but Haldir reacted fast. He drove his knife up to the hilt in the creature's back and that was enough to give it pause as it shrieked in bitter pain, scuttling around faster than Haldir would have thought possible.
He found himself flat on the ground with the creature on his chest, its pincers dribbling anticipatory saliva onto his leather tunic. Haldir lifted his knife again and plunged it into the hairy body. Once- twice- still the stubborn creature would not release him. Its forelegs pressed him into the earth, digging into his skin through his tunic and the pinchers snapped an inch before his face. He felt sudden pain explode in his neck, rocking his body as it shot up his spine. He suppressed a groan of pain as he sank his blade one last time between the creature's myriad of bulbous eyes.
The spider gave a violent shudder and finally went rigid, toppling stiffly off the elf to lie twitching upon the ground for a long moment before stilling forever, its black blood spattering the leaves where it had fallen.
Haldir lay there for a moment, his chest heaving as he looked up through the entwining branches of the dark trees, searching for any other bodies.
Legolas himself was thankfully unharmed but for a few scratches incurred by his vicious struggle against the creature. He tugged himself free from the shreds of the remaining strands and crouched at the older elf's side. His stomach flip-flopped as he saw the bright red blood against the elf's pale skin.
"Haldir, you're hurt!" he exclaimed. The Lórien commander sat up slowly, touching his neck and wincing at the hot pain that raced through him. Feeling something beneath his fingers, he tugged and grimaced as it came free: an inch long stinger the spider had struck him with. The bite stung but he felt all right. For now.
"It's not bad, Legolas," he said, rising somewhat unsteadily to his feet. He looked down at the bulging lifeless corpse sprawled on the old leaves and shuddered. He had not encountered spiders before- and dearly wished to never do so again.
The young prince bit his lip. He knew better; and had seen warriors older and haler than Haldir succumb to the spiders' foul poison.
"Come on." Haldir motioned for the elf child to follow him as they hastened back to the others they had left on the path.
Meanwhile, Rameil and Ancadal waited impatiently for their commander to return. Haldir had told them to stay here and watch the road. Legolas had fled from something and there might still be enemies in the trees. The darker haired Rivendell elf cast his eyes up and down the road while Ancadal held an arrow to his bowstring still.
The wood was quiet around them as though the trees were holding their breath but it was broad daylight. An uneasy chill ran up Rameil's spine as gauzy and indistinct figures glided out of the shadows with the stealth of wolves. Rameil stiffened and dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword though he relaxed a little when he realized they were elves.
Perhaps they were searching for the missing prince as well.
But something felt definitely wrong here. The elves came no closer but stood waiting. But for what? Rameil was no fool- he knew many in Mirkwood believed Ainan's lies and thought he and his friends traitors to the King. But he had not thought that they would be attacked openly by their fellow elves. Rameil released his grip on his sword to show he meant no harm and opened his mouth to speak when something struck him sharply from behind.
Half-stunned, he fell hard to the ground with the breath knocked from his lungs. He rolled swiftly to his feet, trying to evade an unseen blade in his back as he wrenched his sword from its sheath. His ribs ached from where they had been driven against the hard earth and his vision wavered, black and purple dots momentarily exploding before his eyes. He shook his head, staring around at the whipping trees to gain a bearing on their enemies.
There! Among the boughs, dark shapes moved, closing in a half-circle around the two elves though remaining concealed in the shadows.
Ancadal had seen his companion fall and had drawn his sword, his wide blue eyes darting to the river and back again. His horse danced skittishly under him and he stilled her with a word as he glanced down at Rameil who clambered to his feet, rubbing the growing knot at the back of his skull. The Lórien elves were tense and ready, waiting, unable to offer an attack to invisible opponents.
Something black dropped from the trees above them and landed in a crouch not three yards from where they stood.
Tindómëtir raised his head and his dark curtain of hair billowed around his shoulders beneath the misty shadows. He bared his teeth in a vile grin as he drew a long knife from his belt and pointed it at the two before him.
"You shall pay for what you have done, traitors."
Ramiel swore there was an emphatic leer on that last word.
"What do you speak of?" he demanded angrily, wincing at the ache that pounded relentlessly through his head. "We have committed no crime."
"Kidnapping the prince is a crime," Tindómëtir rejoined coolly as the elves about him drew their blades.
Like wolves they closed in.
The land darkened slowly around them, the trees fading to a mottled dark brown haze as shadow threaded among the limbs. The white snow lay ghostly upon the deep roots. Haldir frowned as he stepped back onto the path that twined like a white dusted ribbon into the dusk.
He had left his friends not far from here, he knew.
Legolas followed him a little farther along the path, winding slowly back towards the elven palace as they gazed cautiously around at the dark trees arching overhead and the shadowed depths that receded to their left and right.
Haldir stopped abruptly, staring at the road ahead of him.
The dirt and snow on the path was plowed up and the horses were gone, their deep prints in the snow vanished into the darkness. So had his friends.
"Ancadal? Rameil?" Haldir called out, looking around at the trees and wondering if the spiders had caught them too. He paused and knelt to look more closely at the earth, there were dark splotches spattered on the dried grass beneath a tree and more on the path, mixed in with the ploughed up earth and snow.
In the fading dusk, they looked an awful lot like blood.
A shiver of fear raced up Haldir's spine.
"Something happened here," he said quietly, rising to his feet again, his brow furrowed with worry as his stomach twisted into knots.
"Perhaps they went on without us," he suggested, turning to Legolas who was looking at him concernedly. "We should… get back to the palace," Haldir said distractedly, raking a hand through his disheveled hair.
"They might be waiting for us."
He hoped.
The day had passed beyond their reckoning though it was always dark beneath the trees. They had been walking for hours into the evening and even Legolas was beginning to feel footsore and weary. He paused at the top of a low rise where he could just see the winter sun slowly fading beneath the trees.
The Eastern sky grew steadily dark. But all the western sky looked as though it were on fire- a blazing myriad of light greens, crimson and fiery orange as the winter sun retreated into the reaching arms of the trees that stretched to embrace it. Pink smoke reached out to mingle with the encroaching blue. He watched as the last vestige of day slowly faded from the sky and glanced eastwards where the deepest of blues shone with the first pinpricks of white stars.
Haldir leant against a gnarled old tree trunk as he followed his young friend's gaze towards the setting sun. His face was haggard and pale with pain.
The poison was spreading rapidly and though Haldir's strong, elven body tried to fight it, he was losing. Sweat dampened his brow and he felt distinctly sick as he wavered on his feet, his steps increasingly unsteady.
"I-I don't think we'll make it back to the palace tonight," Haldir said softly, blinking as though to clear his vision. Legolas looked up at him, his dark blue eyes concerned as he glanced up through the interlacing branches. He nodded slowly, shivering in the cold breeze.
"Come on. Let's get out of this wind."
Anariel sat on the edge of her bed, a lonely candle flickering on her bedside table, dripping wax all over the varnished wood but she didn't care. The young sentry, Rinniad, she had sent to his rest long ago for the hour was late.
Absently, she combed her long shimmering tresses, not really feeling the tug of the brush but rather the turmoil of her thoughts. She did not dare look at the empty side of the bed which her husband usually occupied for fear of bursting into tears again and be unable to stop.
Instead, her gaze lingered on the portrait her brother had bequeathed to her, the rainy sky in the picture mirroring her gloomy thoughts. They had been younger then… happier. Her blue eyes swept over her brother's face. This was drawn before her father went off to war and was slain in battle… before their troubles began… before said father bullied and badgered his son into a ruinous life of failed hopes.
She could still remember- even a thousand years later- the night when she had started from a dream to find her brother kneeling beside her bed, silver tears pouring silently down his face. He would not say what had happened but she remembered leaping out of bed and enfolding him in her arms, rocking him back and forth as he sobbed into her shoulder. In that moment, she felt like the older sibling, the big sister, wanting to protect her brother from anything that threatened him.
Little did she know then that the thing that threatened him was their own father.
Anariel did what she could. But she was her father's favorite. Araion was not an overtly cruel parent and ruler though not trusting by nature. He did not trust the King of Northern Mirkwood whom he considered a rival and gave aid to Oropher only because the vote of his entire council was against him.
But before he left for the War, he saw enemies' shadows in every corner, every crevice, every thicket. He had accused and even executed some of his own kin in fear and pride. The spiders grew numerous in the dark hollows of the south, and wolves howled on their very borders. It was all Araion could do to defend his people for they were few and he was often frustrated with his family, especially Ainan who seemed to constantly rebel against his father's wishes.
It grew worse as his children grew older. He shouted. He shouted all the time- never at her, she was his dearest and youngest but her brother received the brunt of what came to be his ill-treatment. Anariel was oblivious to most of this, a certain young prince who was visiting their family's palace had caught her eye and she, his. Her brother fell into the back of her mind.
Thranduil, for Thranduil it had been who had caught her eye, took her as his wife and led her back to Northern Mirkwood to live as their princess. They had been happy. Then the great War had come, the greatest battle that would come to be called the Last Alliance of Elves and Men. Oropher set forth with over four hundred of their strongest swordsmen and finest archers.
Few returned.
The King did not. And neither did her father.
With Thranduil now King and she, Queen, they helped to heal Mirkwood and bring renewed life to a battered and broken kingdom. The birth of her son had been one of the most profoundly joyous moments of her life and lifted the spirits of many who saw their beautiful prince and heard his merry laughter. He was a jewel unto his people.
Her family did not see it that way.
They had come one night, her brother and mother, unexpectedly, glanced over the bright-eyed elf-child in his mother's arms, pronounced him healthy with disdainful glances and left. She was puzzled and hurt by her family's actions, not understanding until later the real reason for their discontent. Ainan had approached her before they departed, then being but a young male of three thousand years or so.
"So this is how you would repay us?" he snapped in such a cold tone that she started. Tiny Legolas, no more than a babe, nuzzled against his mother's neck as she shifted him in her arms.
"What mean you?" Anariel asked, flustered.
"You have betrayed us," he snarled coldly. His silver-blue eyes narrowing at the small child smiling in his mother's arms. "Bedding this upstart of a king- the one who as good as murdered our father!" His voice rose and she shrank back as Legolas began to whimper at the harsh tones. "How could you?" His silver-blue eyes were anguished.
"Why did you leave me?"
Her sister's heart broke to see him standing there, looking so lost and alone. But she stood by her husband. Well did she know her family's ambitions to rule the entire forest and she would not be apart of them. Thranduil had claimed that title in order to unite the broken elven peoples, to make them stronger. Somehow, Ainan resented that and, for the first time that Anariel could remember, he looked on her with hatred.
"I will never forget this," he vowed.
Those angry words had cut her to the core, and even now they still rang in her ears. Ainan had kept his promise. Anariel laid down her brush and smoothed a stray strand over one delicately pointed ear. Part of her still loved him, cared for him as her own blood, pitied him as she always had- even now after all he had done.
He had stormed out that night and she would not see him again for over four hundred years. She found out later that her mother had passed on to Mandos' Halls. No word was sent from home; she discovered the news only when a messenger of King Thranduil had returned from a journey to the Southern Forest and told her the palace was empty. There was no sign of anyone. Some of the villagers he had spoken to had said the royal family had fallen apart after she had left. The king was dead. The mother shortly after… There had no word of her brother.
Unconsciously, she reached up and wiped away the tears lingering on her long eyelashes. She had cried every day since her husband had been missing. And now her son. She had cried every hour. Her family was falling apart.
Again.
The Queen of the Elves turned her face to the side of her husband's cool pillow and wept.
The door to her chambers opened and she started up sharply, quickly wiping away the tear trails on her face.
"What are you doing here?" she asked guardedly of Ainan as he leaned indolently against the doorframe. She gazed up nervously at the shadowed doorway. Her brother had not spoken to her since yesterday morning and he had remained silent all day and far into the evening. She did not really expect him to answer her question and was surprised when he spoke.
"I would speak with you," he said softly. "If I may?" he waited for her nod of acquiescence before seating himself beside her on the bed. He looked at her quite seriously, but there was nothing on his face. He wore a mask of ice that not even she could penetrate. Thus, his next words surprised her.
"I would rather you by my side, sister, than against me."
Anariel looked downright astounded at his boldness. To think, he would try to win her over now! She repressed the urge to shudder when he took her hand in his cold fingers. Unable to resist any longer, she pulled away and stood abruptly. He gave a false-sounding, melancholy sigh.
"I know you are angry with me," he said, trying a placating tone but she merely glared at him as he shook his head bewilderingly at her.
"Why are you so cross with me, muinthel?"
Anariel's eyes flashed.
"You hurt my child, Ainan, you vile orc-spawn," she hissed in a fierce whisper. Ainan merely smiled and shook a finger at her reprovingly.
"Now, now, such foul names should not come from the lips of one so beautiful." He leaned back against the mounted pillows, his expression thoughtful and troubled as she saw it.
"On whose word do you have this accusation? The elves of Lothlórien?" his lip curled in a thin sneer of disgust. "Surely, sister, you would believe your own blood before those traitors? They are the ones responsible for your husband's disappearance."
Anariel caught her breath. She didn't know who to believe now. Her brother had that power over her; he could twist his words to make them believable and she wondered now, of her conversation with the Lórien commander. What did he truly know of my son? What proof was there that Legolas had indeed been hurt at all? He had never told her anything, nor was there any reason to suspect her brother of any harm. Her heart began to sink under the load of questions and curses and overwhelming emotion that she could not bear to examine at the moment.
Ainan stood slowly, his eyes still fixed on hers. Unconsciously, Anariel felt herself taking a step back from him. But he caught her by the wrist, much more gently, however, than he had yet.
"Do not fear, sister. They will be brought to justice when the young prince is found."
Anariel could not hold herself up any longer and her legs buckled.
Ainan leaned smoothly forward and caught her, supporting her gently as he carried her to the bed. She rested against his shoulder, too weak to move away as he stroked her hair tenderly. Through the numbness of her thoughts, her mind screamed in silent bitter irony at this picture.
Her only solace. The source of her anguish.
"You are the light, sweet sister. And I-" Ainan murmured, almost ruefully then merely shrugged with a glint of his eyes, molten silver in the fading candlelight as she looked up at him.
"I am your dark reflection."
She pulled away, her heart burning again within her.
His eyes gleamed at her, challenging her, daring her to stand up to him, to strike him again. But she did nothing, her eyes cast down as she tugged absently at the loose cuff of the scarf that covered the bruises on her throat. Suddenly, he laughed and she looked up sharply, startled by the sound.
"What a pair we make! King and Queen, light and dark." His expression turned deadly serious once more and his eyes seemed as cold as the blue ice on the lip of the ocean.
"The power of your life is in my hands. You know that."
There it was again. He would cajole her, flatter her, pretend to be the wiser, older brother who she could trust, look up to. And then he would become the viper waiting for her to get just close enough for him to snap her up in his coils.
"What do you want, Ainan?" she asked wearily, closing her eyes and wishing futilely for sleep.
"Well then, I shall be blunt," he said with a small smile.
"Valar be praised," she whispered.
"You will not hinder me again."
The Queen opened her eyes and looked tiredly up into his face.
"How have I hindered you, brother?"
His smile turned dangerous and cold as he leaned closer to her on the pretext of brushing a lock of hair that had fallen loose about her face back over her shoulder.
"I know you," he said softly. "You are quite shrewd, Anariel. Thinking you could remain unseen… in broad dawn's light?" he smirked as horror edged fleetingly across her face. "Yes," he said calmly. He rose slowly.
"As I told you before, my dear Queen, your son will be found."
Anariel felt a chill clutch her heart such as she had never felt before. So distraught was she that she did not hear the door open once again. Ainan's eyes flickered towards the doorway and a bright smile spread across his face as he bid welcome to the intruder.
"Your Majesty," Eraeriel dipped into a low curtsy, her eyes on Ainan only. He took her hand and pressed it briefly to his lips. When the raven-haired woman raised her head, she looked straight into Anariel's eyes, a sly, secretive smile on her rose petal lips.
And the Queen stared right back into the glowing eyes of the woman destined to take her place.
