AN: Here it is, to end your torment (more evil laughter) Or is it just beginning? (creepy music)

Chapter Fourteen:

Current Mood: crushed

Current Music: Don't Cry- Guns'n'Roses

I'm feeling much better now. Salébiel has released me to my own chambers this afternoon, although ordered me to 'take it easy' for the next few days. I have to admit, I don't quite feel like myself yet, but at least the headaches and dizziness are gone.

The banquet for the King is tonight and, although father says I am expected to attend, I don't really want to. These formal functions are all the same – all etiquette and protocol, everyone dressed in their finery, one noble trying to outdo the other. The whole thing gives me a headache. I would much rather have a merry gathering with my crew…I haven't seen them all since we got here. And Haldir…

Mirien puttered around her chambers as she made ready for the banquet that evening. The only thing left for her to do was to choose her attire, which, she knew, was the hardest task of all.

She opened her closet and began going through her extensive formal wardrobe. The daughter of the King's advisor is required to attend far more formal functions than she would like to have, and that meant she had a dress for any conceivable occasion. Her hands lingered on several possibilities, but always she found something wrong with them. She almost settled on the flowing leaf green silk and gossamer dress with the sheer wrap. She remembered fondly how much Legolas had loved that dress, which was precisely why it remained in the closet.

She went through several more candidates, not really sure what exactly she was looking for, when she found it - the light, delicately sheer blue and silver evening gown. She wasted no time in donning the garment and then went back to admire it in her mirror. It was made of layer upon layer of completely sheer fabric, just enough layers to conceal what modesty demanded but remain sheer enough to be incredibly sexy. She felt stunningly beautiful in it, and in her heart secretly hoped Haldir would think so as well. She'd seen the way he had looked at her that night on the ship, the jealousy in his eyes as she danced with Doran. He didn't know, couldn't know, how she felt about him, how it was difficult for her to keep her eyes off him, how she would start a conversation with him just for the sake of hearing his voice. Yes, she mused, this was the dress.

She was just about to start selecting matching jewelry when she heard a knock at her door. She turned to answer it and entered the main room in time to see her father close her door. Unconsciously she took a step back. The expression on his face and the aura around him were definitely not ones of fatherly love.

"Adar?"

"Is that what you are wearing to the banquet?" he accused. She tried to answer but he wouldn't let her. "I just spoke with your mother," he continued, cutting her off. "She said that you and Ameron are separated, is this true?"

"Adar, please," she said in a calm, yet shaking voice, "you don't understand - "

"Is this true?" he repeated harshly. She stared at him, almost in challenge, before answering.

"Yes, but – "

"Do you have any idea what the consequences of your separation would be?" He took a step forward and she backed away.

"Adar please, lower your voice," she begged.

"Did it ever enter into your thought what that would do to the already weakening relations with Lorien?" he continued, slightly louder as if he hadn't heard her.

"We were going to keep it quiet," she tried to explain.

"And here you are, dressed like a tramp to attract the next elf to your bed!"

"How dare you?" her words were cut off as she was slapped across the face. Hard.

"I will not have my daughter acting like a whore for all to see," he growled at her. She shivered as his breath brushed her ear. "So you," he continued, "will march right back in there," he gripped the bodice of her dress, "and change." Just as she opened her mouth to protest he pulled on the delicate material and the sound of tearing fabric filled the room.

"Adar, please!" she cried, close to tears. "Please, stop this!" He didn't hear her and continued his work until the beautiful dress was hardly recognizable and quite irreparable. Once finished, he admired his work with a cruel smirk before catching her eyes in a cold glare. His hand shot up and grabbed her chin in an iron grip, bringing her face close to his.

"Now," he whispered harshly, "change into something more appropriate. This dress is quite immodest, don't you think?" He held her eyes until hers misted over and she began to whimper.

"Yes, Adar," she said in a strangled whisper. He roughly let go of her and walked to the door. Mirien lifted a hand to her face, already feeling a bruise forming where he'd held her. She watched as he walked to the door and reached for the handle. "Don't be late," he growled at her over his shoulder before opening the door and slamming it shut behind him. Seconds later, after the initial shock passed, she slumped to the ground, sobbing.

Scant moments, it seemed to her, she heard a knock at her door. Cold fear gripped her heart and she backed as far away from the door as she could, until she was pressed against the opposite wall. Wild fantasies of her father returning to chastise her further entered her mind and she whimpered, knowing she would never be strong enough to face him a second time.

Another, more insistent knock filled the air and she hastily drew up her knees and clutched them tightly to her chest. Her body began to shake with the fear that now flowed through her as abundantly as her own blood. A third knock. She hid her face in her knees and sobbed, digging her nails into her legs as she heard the door click open, and then softly shut again. An eternity of silence followed. It was as if time for her had stopped while she waited.

"Mirien?" The voice was so soft, so soothing and loving that it caught her off guard. This was not her father's voice. Almost afraid it would be a dream, she looked up slowly, hesitantly. Haldir's worry-ridden face filled her with both calming peace and intense embarrassment. She watched, nearly paralyzed, as he rushed towards her and knelt by her side.

He was so close, so wonderfully close to her. She could smell his scent mingling with her own between them and felt a momentary flutter of excitement inside. It was in sharp contrast to the hurt and sadness she still felt, and the complexity of the emotions overwhelmed her. Just as she saw him reach out for her she broke into uncontrollable sobs.

Before she realized it she reached for him, thinking that perhaps if they were closer her emotions would become bearable. She suddenly, on top of everything else, felt shame. She had always been over emotional, ever since she was a girl. It was difficult to control sometimes, and often got her into trouble. She cried now, for she believed she had just ruined her already rocky relationship with Haldir. She barely knew him, yet was crying on his shoulder, asking him to soothe her pain.

Gentle arms encircled her and pulled her closer to him. Her hands gripped his shoulders tighter and she relaxed into the embrace. She felt hands rubbing her back soothingly and his head resting atop hers. "Oh Mirien," he whispered. "What happened? Why did he do this to you?" She froze. She hadn't realized he could know it was her father who had caused such hurt. Always she had kept such things quiet, not allowing anyone else to get involved in private matters. She remembered once, long ago, Legolas had tried. Being so close to her, he found out about her strict father and tried to come between them, but-

No, she didn't want to think about that.

She stood.

"It- it's nothing," she explained weakly. "He just didn't like the dress." She turned and headed to her bedroom, clutching the tattered remains of her gown to her as she went. Behind her Haldir stood for a moment in disbelief of what he had just heard before following.

"Nothing? Mirien, he attacked you!" he cried. "How can you defend him after what he did?" He stood in the doorway of her room while she stood in the center of the room, frozen still with her back to him. He watched her sadly as her shoulders shook silently. "He can't do this to you, Mirien, it's not right," he continued softly, "you're stronger than this." She turned abruptly at this and he saw anger flicker briefly in her eyes.

"You don't know me," she said, backing away from him. "You can't talk about what you don't know! It's just…" she paused, searching for words and finding none that fit, "you just don't understand." He shook his head at her.

"You're right," he admitted, "I don't understand how you allow your father to hurt you like this. Why do you not fight back?" He watched as her mouth opened and closed several times as she tried desperately to answer him. Finally, she did.

"I don't know how," she whispered shamefully, lowering her head. He sighed and came towards her. He stood in front of her and lifted her head with his finger so that she looked into his eyes. Wiping a tear from her cheek, he promised,

"That will change."