AN: Here it is! Much faster than last time! (proud) Things are about to get interesting…(evil grin)
Oh, and Fanfic-dot-net apparently doesn't like even short web addresses, so I'll put it here with spaces instead: http :www - livejournal - com /users /elvendiaries/ You need to have a journal, and be 'friended' to read the…not 'PG' chapters, but if you want on e-mail me or comment.
K, now story. I promise to update sooner this time…the next chapter is almost finished. (maniacal giggle)
Chapter Thirteen:
Current Mood: alarmed
Current Music: Midnight in Chelsea- Jon Bon Jovi
Why did he choose me? Why did Celeborn choose me to deliver his message? And why did he not inform me of its content beforehand rather than sending a sealed document? The next time he wants to say 'no' to Thranduil, he can do it himself!
I am well aware of the terrible situation in Mirkwood, but I am also painfully aware of the situation in Lothlorien. We simply cannot afford to spare anyone to aid the fighters of Greenwood – we can barely defend our own land against the shadow. And Thranduil stubbornly refuses to understand this! He had the audacity to accuse me of being 'unsympathetic' to their plight! Saying that we 'pampered Noldo' have no idea what true need is!
After my meeting with Thranduil I was so aggravated I sought out a place to be alone and calm myself with meditation. I had not been sitting an hour when I was disturbed out of my thoughts by an intruder. The next time I go looking for someplace quiet in Mirkwood, it certainly will not be in the Hall of Records.
Doran wandered through the rows of scrolls and books, touching faded spines and leafing through piles of dusty parchments. He wasn't sure what he as looking for, but he was hoping he would find something interesting in Thranduil's library. He had long since read through the books in Lothlorien, something written in another realm would be quite refreshing.
His eye caught another shelf filled almost to bursting with small leather bound books. He walked over to it and tried to pry one of the dusty volumes out from between its brethren. After a short struggle the book finally came loose and fell to the floor, taking many others with it.
"Who's in charge of this place?" he muttered incredulously to himself. He knelt to pick up the pile of dust and parchment when he noticed the other elf sitting with his back to the wall beside the bookshelf, glaring at him. "Oh," he said, dropping the collected books in surprise. Another cloud of dust floated up from them. "I did not realize there was someone here."
"And I did not expect anyone else to come here," Haldir replied. "I was meditating." Doran again began to gather up the fallen literature as he replied.
"Among books and ledgers? He asked, "why would you seek calm here and not in the gardens or even your own chambers?"
"I did not wish to be disturbed," Haldir replied. "I was certain that if I went to those places I could be sought out by those who…I do not wish to speak with."
"I see," said Doran, mildly embarrassed. "I apologize for intruding. I will leave you now." He quickly finished collecting the papers and rose to stuff them back in the bookcase.
"Wait," he heard behind him just as he had turned to leave. "I did not mean to imply that you were among those I am avoiding," he said apologetically. Doran slowly turned and regarded the marchwarden.
"May I ask who is?" he said carefully. Haldir seemed to consider whether to answer or not, and then sighed, smiled and gestured for Doran to join him.
"Any member of the royal family, right now," he replied as Doran settled himself down on the floor beside him.
"You will not be able to avoid them for long, the banquet is tonight, you know. We are all invited." When Haldir did not respond, Doran smirked and added, "including Mirien." Haldir's head shot up at the comment and Doran chuckled softly. "Fear not, my friend, I will not say a word to her." Haldir sighed and shook his head.
"It is not proper for me to be lusting after a married woman."
"She may not be married for much longer," Doran, sighed, "she and her husband have separated." Haldir almost succeeded in looking calm at the statement, but Doran saw the flicker of hope in his eyes.
"Have you spoken to her? Is she okay?" he asked, smoothly changing the subject.
"Yes, she is fine," he assured him. "I saw her yesterday. In fact, she asked about you. She wanted to be sure you were well taken care of. She became concerned when Cariell mentioned that you seemed upset after speaking with the King."
"She heard about that, did she?" Haldir said in an almost embarrassed tone. He sighed again and looked at Doran. "Several months ago, Thranduil sent a message to Lord Celeborn requesting aid in defending the Greenwood. Yesterday, I bore our lord's response: 'No.'" Doran winced visibly.
"I assume that did not go over well."
"You assume correctly," Haldir grumbled. "Now I am in a difficult position – to attend a party in honor of the conception of an elf with whom I had so recently argued bitterly with. It may be best if I do not attend."
"I think you should," Doran said after a moment in thought. "You are not just Celeborn's messenger, you are also his representative," he explained. "Being present for the King's conception festival would show him that Lothlorien, and you as well, holds no ill feelings towards Mirkwood and her king. That gesture alone could go a long way towards repairing our, shall we say, 'fragile' relations with our Silvan cousins. At least," Doran continued as he stood, "it's worth a try." Haldir sat thoughtfully going over these words as Doran grabbed a book off the shelf on his way out of the library.
Several hours later, as the light above the trees began to take on the distinct deep gold of evening, Haldir at last stood from his meditations. He had been right that no one came here, save Doran of course, and he had not been disturbed since the other elf had left.
He had made his decision – he would go to the banquet as a representative of his lord. He would be civil to Thranduil. He would refrain from openly gazing at Mirien.
He paused.
Where had that thought come from?
After stopping by his chambers and dressing in his finest robes, he set off towards the Great Hall. On the way he had to walk through many halls with doors to other chambers. He didn't think anything of it until he rounded a corner just in time to see another elf slam a door. He stopped in his tracks and stared, thinking to himself how rude such an act was. The other elf looked around the corridor and then turned and stormed off in the direction of the Great Hall.
Haldir stayed where he was for several minutes, trying to make sense out of what he'd seen. He had hidden behind the wall as the other elf looked around, seemingly to see if he was being watched. He pressed a hand to his pounding heart and took a deep breath. 'There has to be a good explanation for this,' he thought. 'That was Mirien's father.' After taking a moment, he started back down the corridor, but as he passed the door Almerin had closed he stopped. Behind the beautifully carved oak door, he heard crying.
Before he could think better of it, he knocked softly on the door. After receiving no response, he tried again, and a third time. Finally he reached for the handle and gently turned. Nothing he could have imagined would have prepared him for what he saw. On the floor, hugging her knees wearing a roughly torn dress, was Mirien. He whispered her name in disbelief, but found himself rooted to the floor.
Mirien lifted her head and two tearful sapphire eyes bored into him. With that it was as if the spell keeping him paralyzed had been lifted and he rushed to kneel by her side. He lifted a hand to smooth back her hair, but it was as if he was afraid he would damage her by his touch. She looked at him, trying desperately to calm her tears, but instead reached out for him, burying her face in his chest. She clung to him like a lifeline, sobbing while he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her.
"Oh, Mirien," he whispered into her hair, "what happened? Why did he do this to you?" As he said this she let go of him and clumsily picked herself up. He stood and gently helped her.
"It - it's nothing," she said between sobs as she headed to the back room, "he just didn't like the dress."