It was an awfully long break. I am truly sorry for that. For a story that is already finished, it needs a surprising amount of editing and re-writing.
Sigh…how lucky I am that people ignore my shortcomings.
I was shocked to see how many new people have joined to read this story. And very pleasantly surprised. Welcome all and make yourself at home.
"I hope we can find her soon," Russel murmured, his eyes on the hissing flames of the fire.
"You and Irulan are close friends," Legolas said suddenly.
The man blinked, waking from his daze. He looked up to see the elf fixed on him. His elegant form was outlined against the beautiful Chinese sky dotted with stars. None of the impatience that he had had all day showed in his stance, now. It had been hard to admit that he was about to collapse from his horse by the time they reached this stop. Russel was not vain and he knew that he was no match for elves in stamina. Still, he had clenched his teeth and held on until he saw lightning in front of his eyes every time the animal took another step. Finally Anne had been the one to moan and whimper and beg Legolas to give a break. The Prince had been unrelenting. 'If you can not keep up, stay behind,' was all he had said. Neither would he have slowed down and relented if Haldir hadn't pulled up beside Legolas and engaged in what seemed like a fight. In Elvish. Russel had stared at the first in an elvish fluent conversation as well as the first argument he had witnessed between the usually stoic and loving friends. Haldir had won eventually, but he, too, didn't seem to be happy with the idea of rest. So Russel and Anne, feeling like they were annoying children that needed to be taken care of and had no place in this rescue mission, had glided off the saddles with a sigh and volunteered for picking the wood. This way, at least, they seemed less unnecessary.
'At least Haldir understands humans' Russel thought deftly to himself, glaring at Legolas. It had only served to confirm his doubts about Legolas being a good match for Irulan. Why Anne was so convinced that they belonged together, he didn't know. The elf seemed cold, arrogant and downright cruel. True enough, he was nothing of the king around Irulan. But that didn't change the fact that his nature was what it was and that nature was simply too dangerous to be around for his dear friend. He had taken another mental note of that.
In fact, every waking hour he was spending in Legolas' company served further to increase his doubts about this relationship between him and Irulan. Never before had he interfered in her affairs. 'There wasn't any need to,' he told himself grudgingly. Not because her choice in men had satisfied the restless mind of a friend, but because none had seemed…well…important. And besides, Anne was doing that more than enough, thank you very much. Russel had preferred to be Irulan's pillar – a friend without judgment and prejudice. However, the case of the Prince was an altogether different ballgame. Not for the first time he was actually glad that Amanda had her hooks in the elf and didn't seem too eager to let go.
Russel bit his cheeks and forced himself to return to the present. "Yes," was his simple and rather aloof reply.
A short silence followed as the elf gazed into the distance. "Do you intend to stay so?" was his sudden addition.
"Of course," Russel said after a moment of bafflement. The elf's gaze didn't change. "What do you mean?" Again, no reply. Annoyed with his staring and his meaningful looks, Russel growled "What's it to you anyway? You have...you have....you have Amanda," he finished finally, annoyed that he couldn't say it out of plain anxiety. It was the first time he had very openly reminded Legolas of that and yet, it was only true.
For a moment the elf's eyes seemed ablaze. But it could have been only the fire. "I have no one," was his final murmur, so low that it was barely audible over the hiss of the flames.
Russel scratched his short shadow of a beard, discomforted by the solitude he sensed in that comment. Granted, Legolas was not his favorite pal. But on the other hand, he could not deny the intrigue he felt for the man. Intrigue and...admiration. All right - anyone in his right mind would admire Legolas. Not only because of his deeds in the Old Days. But simply because of the creature that he was – an alien. A castout. A foreigner. A god. Just because he couldn't –or maybe shouldn't- have Irulan, didn't mean that he should suffer to his last breath. "She is really pretty, you know," he said, merely for consolation. The beautiful, slanted eyes of Amanda floated into his mind.
"She is more than pretty," Legolas growled back. "She is the most beautiful thing that I have seen," was the lower and late addition.
Russel couldn't tell if the other man was annoyed or defensive of Amanda. He gazed into the flames with raised eyebrows. Once again, the elf had managed to change his mood in a matter of minutes. The truth was, whatever Legolas said, Russel felt like objecting and taking the other end of the discussion. When Legolas was kind, he wanted to be rude and cruel. When Legolas seemed broken, he wanted to console him. When Legolas was defensive, he simply wanted to be offensive. Amanda was a beautiful woman, no doubt. But considering that Russel had seen far more stunning women in his short life and considering that Legolas had a far, far longer life... "Come now," he said finally. "I mean...she is beautiful, granted. But nothing special."
Legolas gave him an amazed look. "Obviously you don't know much about women," was all he said in the end.
Russel's head swiveled back to him. "Hah!" he said, too baffled to say anything else. Then again "Hah!" An amused smile spread on the elf's lips and more than annoyed by that, he clenched his jaws. "I know quite a bit, actually. Try having Irulan and Anne for best friends. It'll save you the lesson of a few centuries, no doubt." He had meant it as a blow to remind the elf that they were HIS best friends, not the Prince's, but for once the other man didn't seem to be irritated at his suggestion.
Legolas chuckled, shaking his head. "And yet...you fail to see a treasure when you meet her."
"A treasure?!" the man protested. "Right!" It was incredulous to notice that just two sentences ago he was claiming Amanda to be beautiful and now was doing just the opposite – because Legolas was praising her. Confused and annoyed at his own childishness, he gazed into the flames once more, desperately trying to avoid a sulk.
"Why do you speak like that?" the elf said slowly, giving him an odd look.
"Look...Legolas," Russel huffed, speaking his name for the first time. Did that make them friends? Hell no! He shifted with unease before he continued. "Don't pretend you understand women. I mean...let's face it – NOBODY does. And since you...I mean...since it didn't work out between you and Irulan..." He gave the elf a quick glance and continued before there would be a temperamental outburst, "...my point is proven."
"And what point is that?" seethed the Prince.
Russel shrugged. "No one understands women. We might as well stop pretending." He exhaled in frustration and massaged his neck, looking up to the stars. "That's why you are here. That's why we're BOTH here," he finished with a murmur, his thoughts dancing towards the issue of Anne again.
"True enough," was the half-amused statement. "And yet...I spot precious when I see it. And you do not."
"Fine, so you do. I don't think that's a good thing anyway," Russel growled, shifting to glide to the floor and leaning his back to the log he used to sit on. "I've seen one precious and it screwed me up." He could see Legolas staring at him from the corner of his eye, but kept his eyes on the fire. "Never been the same ever since," he sighed finally.
"Neither have I," sighed Legolas.
Wait – were they agreeing again?! A sizzle of irritation sparked in him and he dished out the words to find relief. "At least you'll get to be with her." Again, Anne held his mind. 'God knows what I'll do,' he added to himself, feeling tired, bored and miserable.
"What are you talking about?"
Russel blinked in confusion. "Your 'precious'. Your 'most beautiful thing'!" he groaned. The only reply was that damnable blank stare. "Amanda, for God's sake!"
A long moment passed. "I wasn't talking about HER," Legolas said with a low growl. This time it was Russel's turn to stare and blink. "I meant Irulan, you fool!"
"Irulan?!" was the baffled shout of a reply. "But I thought..." The dry stare of the elf stopped him from being a further fool. Wait – shouldn't he get back to the man for calling him a fool? "Oh hell," he growled, irritated. "I was talking about Amanda."
Legolas shook his head –another indication how stupid he thought Russel was- and proceeded to lie back to the log himself, crossing his arms below his head to gaze up to the stars. "I must admit," Russel drawled then, feeling the need to kick him back. "Irulan IS beautiful." Actually Russel had always thought so. Most people might not categorize her as that, but to him she was simply gorgeous. Of course not nearly as stunning as Anne....but nevertheless, gorgeous. As any good friend, he could not evaluate her physical looks only. He was too close to her judge her like that. To him she was a mass of everything. Of the moments they had laughed till they were crawling on the floor and the days she had cried on his shoulder. She was a combination of bashing and chasing and friendly embraces and mug-throwing.
"True enough," was the cool response to that. "Alas, words would not suffice to describe her. She has the beauty of liquid fire that boils in the womb of the Earth. Of the cool gaze of stars in the desolate night sky. Of the scent of the breeze that touches pine leaves..." Despite himself Russel turned in his direction, gazing at the outstretched form. "Elusive, gossamer and fragile as that. You can not reach it. Never own it. She belongs to another plane. You can only watch and admire."
Another silence followed. This time he was too impressed to calculate whether he should offend or defend. "Boy," Russel said finally, "you are really in love, my friend." Legolas said nothing. He exhaled in frustration and leaned back again. "So am I," he sighed with a lower voice.
That dangerous urge to get up and chocke Russel overcame Legolas again. No matter how many times he told himself that Irulan never wasn't and never would be his, that damnable heart ofhis would not listen! 'She can have a relationship with anyone he chooses,' his mind tried to convince itself with something akin to desperation.
'And she chooses HIM,' another and far more amusing voice interfered. 'HIM over you, Legolas.'
He glanced at the other man as another stab of jealousy hit him. 'What does he have that I do not?' Then he almost issued a bitter chuckle. He shook his head again. He had asked that very question once to Irulan. At that time he had thought that David was her boyfriend. He turned away with a flash of anger. 'Hah! A mere boy! A child!' he thought, the fire in his veins refusing to die out. 'He thinks he is in love with her! He has no idea what love IS!'
He huffed and got up, then walked away into the dark shadow of the trees. He was angry and he wanted to strangle something to dilute the pain. Strangling Russel seemed to be a more tempting idea by the hour. Still, deep in his heart, he knew that the man had no fault. Apart from his occasional stinging words and attitude, he had kept to himself. That, however, irked Legolas even further. He was jealous of Russel and it was eating at his heart. The trip had made it all worse. Before 'Russel' was just the name of competition and as minor and unimportant as any competition Legolas had faced to this day. Now the man was in front of his eyes, day and night, mute and obedient and Legolas felt like ripping out this heart.
'The first thing that I will do when I return to New York, is to find out who this man is,' he told himself as he walked on the soft grassy hills. Then he halted, shook his head and chuckled with disbelief. Finding out about him?Definitely not! Irulan was none of his business anymore. And consequently, neither was Russel.
"Alas," he sighed to himself, then, "every day I repeat that to myself, and still I am here." He wanted to object. He wanted to say that this was different. That he didn't trust Russel to shave himself in the morning –and note to everyone, that beard looked nowhere as good as it did on Estel- forget about saving Irulan. He really wanted to. But alone, in a cool Chinese night, under the magnificent sky it was silly and well...human.
He continued his stroll, away from the fire and away from Russel. The truth was, he had missed Irulan. There had been times he had been forced into longer absence from her, true. But then there hadn't been such a gap between them. And true enough, the Bond was restored, but for once he didn't know if this was good or bad. Because ever since yesterday, he felt like he had to FLY towards Irulan. A terrible panic threatened to overcome him whenever he dared to think of her. All he knew was that she was not in danger at the current. But he also knew that she wasn't well.
He took a frustrated breath and gazed out into the dark. How could a man in his right mind deliver the woman he loved into the hands of another man? How? He was thousands of years old, and this was one trick he had yet to learn. Maybe Anne had been right. Maybe he really should have gone up to Irulan's door, knocked and as soon as she had opened it, move in, grab her by the roots of her hair and kissed her with the longing, passion and desperation he had saved up until that moment. Scandalous, for sure. What kind of elf would force himself upon a woman like that? 'The desperate kind, I guess,' he thought to himself and shook his head again. It was against every custom and principle his kind had so stubbornly managed to hold on to since unthinkable time. And yet, times changed and wasn't it always essential to change and adapt WITH the times? Maybe the courteous, stoic and overly polite way of the elves was over. Maybe it was far more effective to learn some human oddities.
Once, thousands of years ago, he had known of a man who had kidnapped the woman he had loved. Against both her own and her family's will. He had dragged her away from everything she had known. She had hated him for it and sworn never to return his love. When Legolas had passed their way merely two years later, she was with child and as happy as a five year old. He had stared at her in disbelief as she leaned on her 'husband' and he embraced her waist with immense affection. He had dined with them, too polite to prod, and left the next morning.
The issue, however, had not left him. He had thought about it long and hard. Not because it had been the first time he had witness this kind of catastrophic love and passion amongst humans. But because it was against his nature and the principles he had carried around with himself. And it had worked. Thankfully Legolas had never been forced to employ such means to bend mortal women to his will. He had always proved to others –and maybe more to himself- that kindness, patience and a little bit of stubborn persuasion led to the same that now there was a case at hand that could not be bend, persuaded or waited out...perhaps it was time to test out that theory.
"What am I thinking?!" he exclaimed suddenly, abashed. Just a moment ago it was all about letting Irulan go and bracing himself against her future with Russel, and now he was once again thinking how to regain her! He brought up his hand and massaged his brow in frustration. "A symphony of contradictions I am," he murmured into the night. "A song of weakness. No wonder she turned from me. "Who would have the heart to hear me out?" Amanda, Irulan, Russel…the names danced in his mind, clawing, soothing, demanding, protesting. In the midst of all, the Prince of Mirkwood felt torn, small and clumsy. The Valar had calculated and speculated and had finally come up with a scheme to leave him witless and weak. 'You win,' he thought, gazing up at the sky. 'You win. You have made a mortal out of me.'
The cool gust that touched his face in reply felt like the cruel laughter of victory.
Where are you?"
"Here. Right here."
The darkness was incredible and Irulan saw nothing, felt nothing other than a chill to the air. "Where, Baeron?"
"Here," came his whisper and a moment later, the touch of his hand on hers. Irulan jumped slightly, then clasped it eagerly. It seemed a far too great luxury in this alien environment.
"I can't see you," she said a few moments later, turning her face to where she thought he was standing.
"Nor do you need to," he soothed. "You can feel me, no?"
"I can," Irulan breathed in relief, smiling. His presence was a fantastic change in everything. Even though a dream, it was welcome and comforting. It didn't matter if Baeron was indeed reaching out to her from another world with merely his spirit, or if she was making him up with her own imagination. He was here and the darkness felt less frightening simply because of that. "Where is this place?"
"A place where you and I meet," he said. He had such a beautiful voice! She felt his other hand closing on hers as well. "It is every place and no place."
"Is it...is it Bentanta's tomb?" she whispered with a sudden tinge of fear.
"Only if you want it to be," was his late reply.
"No," she said quickly. Then, more confident "No. Better not."
"Then it's not," he said and she sensed a flash of amusement in that answer.
She thought about that for a moment as his hand caressed hers. "Why are we here? Did you come to guide me, Baeron?"
"Is it guidance you need, my friend?"
"I...can't remember," Irulan mumbled and frowned in the darkness. "I don't know how I came here. Or when. What happened?" If Baeron shrugged, she could not see it, but merely felt the action in the slight pulling of her hand. She tried to remember, but any memory other than the darkness was like fish gliding in the water beneath her – shadows of illusion fleeting back and forth under her little boat. "That is strange," she mumbled and felt a slight headache building up from the effort. "Where am I?"
"The right question is," he sighed a long moment later " 'Who am I?'"
Irulan blinked, then grinned. "That's silly, Baeron. I know who I am." He didn't answer and she rolled her eyes. "I am Irulan, you fool."
"Which Irulan?"
She exhaled with a tinge of frustration. "I don't know how many you knew," she seethed with mock anger. "I am me."
"Are you the Irulan who danced with me in Vienna?"
"Yes," she laughed. It felt childish and somehow relaxing to play such a silly game.
Baeron remained silent for a moment. "No," he said finally.
"Very funny," sighed Irulan.
"That woman was full with life and love. You are not her. Who are you?"
Irulan stilled and gave the darkness a hard look, assuming that the elf could see her. Alas, in this thick darkness perhaps he couldn't. "Are you trying to say that I am not like that, now? Or is this a cryptic expression for another silly statement?"
"Are you really that woman, Irulan?" Baeron said a long moment later, his voice low and soft. "Can you look at yourself and say so?" There was a long silence and Irulan found no answer to the question, although it seemed to be simple enough. She thought about it, knitting her brows when he spoke up once more. "Perhaps you are the Irulan who ran into my arms at the airport in Madrid," he mused. "And held my hand in a hotel room while the world bade farewell to daylight?"
"No other," Irulan said, then hesitated. "I mean...yes, I think so."
"Are you certain? You sound unsure."
"That's because you are confusing me!" Irulan protested and drew back her hand. As soon as the contact vanished, though, she felt terrified of being alone in the dark and quickly sought it out. Baeron slipped his fingers between hers once more, seemingly undisturbed by her gesture.
"You remind me of her, no doubt," he said then, thoughtful, "But that fragile, disappointed, broken woman must have been another."
She sighed, the memory of those days sharp in her. "Maybe you are right," she said, a tinge of sorrow creeping into her voice. Of all things, the memory of that plane flight when she had cried herself almost to death was the least welcome one and rose a bitter tang in her mouth.
"There was an Irulan who walked the Tunisian beach with me," he said, a bit merrier as if to stray her from her own recollections. "And promised to seek me out in another life." Suddenly she felt his fingers in her hair, gently caressing. Irulan closed her eyes, feeling unexplainable relief at the action. "She smelled like the sea and wore a shirt like foaming water. Her eyes sparkled like the African sun on the ocean. Are you perhaps her?"
"She was full of hope and bold to a fault," Irulan smiled. "Sometimes I fancy I am her, but at other times it seems like I am nothing like her." She opened her eyes to total darkness once more and smiled broader. "And she smelled like the sea because she was dumped into one," she added. Baeron chuckled to that and so did she. A long silence crept between them. "What about the other one?" Irulan said finally, biting her lip. "The one who walked with you in the dark?"
"Ah..." he sighed. "My favorite of all! Through time and dust we walked..." His voice trailed and the fingers in her hair stilled. Irulan held her breath, trying to sense if any sentiment was emanating from him, but she caught none. "She made a promise never to forget me. That Irulan, I loved most of all."
Irulan felt tears building up in her eyes. "I don't think I am any of those, now," she said, her voice shaking.
A long moment passed and she bit her lip, listening to the thick silence. The need to cry was overwhelming. She felt so tired, so very tired, and had no clue why that was. "Who are you then?" Baeron said softly. She had no reply for that, so she remained silent, the need to sob quelling further and further inside her. "Are you an unforgiving woman, Irulan?" He sighed and she felt his fingers combing through her hair again. "Are you vain? Too proud for your own good?"
"I might be," she whispered and could not help to sob before she continued. "I killed you, Baeron," she said, a terrible pain choking her words out of her. "I lost Legolas."
He caressed her hair and Irulan closed her eyes again, letting the tears glide down. It was easy with Baeron here and the dark to block out everything. She cried and he caressed her, soothing her senses. It felt so good. Too good to be true. "What is this fear that you grow so stubbornly in your heart?" He whispered a long while later. "To whom is your anger, King-daughter?"
Irulan took a shaking breath and tried to quell her sobs - to no avail. "I don't know!" she cried in reply. "I want...I want Legolas. But I want myself, too. I want to be with him, for him to care for me and protect me. And yet...when he does so, I feel like I am caged beyond rescue." The words fell from her lips, unheeded. Words she had not dared to think out before. "I love him so much!" she sobbed. "It frightens me and hurts me because..."
"Because you have lost your trust for him, have you not?"
Irulan nodded in dismay, not really thinking if he could see the action in the dark or not. "He is so...deceptive. And so...elusive!"
She had nothing to say to that. "He is older than you can comprehend," Baeron sighed. "It is one thing neither of you can change, Irulan." She knew that of course! She opened her mouth to tell him so, but he continued. "You think it is hard for you to engage in an affair with Legolas. You are selfish, Irulan, if you think it is any easier for him." It pained to hear the truth and it pained her even more to hear such disapproval from Baeron. She shook with another sob, covering her wet eyes with her free hand. He took a deep breath and continued his gentle caressing while she cried. "He, too, is afraid, my friend," was the more soothing addition. "He never gave his heart before and he is no wiser to the ways of love than you are. But he knows what loss means, more than you will ever come to realize. Grant him that."
Again, Irulan nodded. Why was it so easy to talk to Baeron, to hear the truth in his words when it was so hard to accept it from Legolas? Why would the idea of submitting seem not to terribly terse when Baeron mentioned it when the same idea spoken by the Prince of Mirkwood only caused her temper to flare? "I have lost track of my reasons," she sighed finally. Her crying had lost its intensity and only occasional tears glided down her cheeks now. "I can't remember why I ran from him, anymore. My excuses seem small and silly now. My anger remains, but the source is forgotten." A wry smile crossed her face as she stared into the darkness.
"Time has a way of mending things," Baeron said slowly and grasped both of her hands in his. "All you have to do is allow yourself to be healed."
"And what if the same happens again?"
"Then you will heal again," was his curt reply.
Irulan took a deep breath. "I would be a fool to make the same mistake twice."
"No, Irulan," he said gently, "you would be a brave woman to take another chance, against all odds."
"I could never get over another one of those blows!" She protested, not as strongly as she wished to.
"On the contrary," he said in a heartbeat, "practice makes perfect. Your second failure would be far easier on your heart. And the third easier than that. By the fifth, you'll hardly cry." She gave his direction an astonished look and if sensing this, he continued, mild amusement in his tone. "That is, IF you are brave enough to keep trying." Irulan sulked in silence as he added "You pride yourself in not being craven and in facing your mistakes. I would certainly like a demonstration of that."
"How on earth can it be that you can call me selfish and coward and make me almost AGREE, when I would kill Legolas for the same words?!" Irulan protested finally, half amazed, half curious.
"Because," Baeron sighed, "you don't fear to disappoint me."
It was so plainly true, that Irulan could only smile, wiping the remnant of tears from her eyes. The sudden realization was incredible in her heart - not only because it was a surprise not to have thought of it in that way, but also because even if she had, she wouldn't have probably admitted to it, before. In the thick darkness, her hands in Baeron's, Irulan realized with sharp certainty that all the time she had pretended not to care what Legolas thought of her and what his feelings to her were, she had been lying to herself more than she had been misleading him. It was all right to be weak and clumsy in the presence of Baeron. It was all right to cry on Russel's shoulder and to let him see her and tend to her when she was sick and ugly. It was perfectly normal to make terrible mistakes and be stupid when Anne was around. But Legolas...As dreadful, horrible and disgusting as it was, she cared more for his opinion than anyone else's. It was unthinkable to be weak in his eyes. Or undesirable. Or...human? Irulan took another breath and tried to fight off the temptation to argue. "It is true," she mumbled, more to herself than to Baeron. And maybe that was why his last words of refusal had hurt so much. Was it childish to try to impress Legolas? Was it foolish to seek his approval and his liking, sometimes simply by pretending to be the unconquerable, unbendable heroine? And if his disappointment in her hurt so much...how much did her refusals and sharp edges hurt him? Irulan felt the simmer of shame rise in her.
"You see, Irulan," Baeron said, his voice now a bit more distant, "all this time you blamed Legolas for fooling you. And all this time you have only fooled yourself. He was more honest to you in the matter of his heart than you ever were to both him and yourself."
"I am only human," she whined into the darkness as a feeling of receding invaded her. She felt as if she was moving, though her eyes could detect no movement in the darkness around her. Baeron's touch was gone and Irulan reached out to regain it, grasping empty air.
"No," he said, his voice low and almost inaudible in the distance, "You are a daughter of kings."
"Baeron!" she cried into the dark. "Don't leave me! Baeron!"
"Come to me," she heard him say, his voice the echo of a distant echo. "Come for me. I shall wait for you, Irulan."
"I will!" she yelled into the cool darkness. "I will, you'll see!" A determination like no other rose to grip her heart and choked her next words. 'If mountains bar my way, I will move them aside,' she thought and shook with the thought alone. 'If rivers dare to cross me I will bend them.' She swallowed, the gust of boldness and strength almost dizzying in its intensity. For that moment and only that moment, she believed the words. They were not her words - who was Irulan to speak such poetic nonsense?
'Daughter of kings,' someone said right beside her and it wasn't Baeron's voice or any other voice she knew. Maybe it was the voice of her mind. Or her heart. Or some ghost, lost from memory long ago. She didn't care. "Baeron!" she tried again, hoping that he would return to her side. But he didn't come. As much as she had dreaded the conversation, she dreaded his absence even more. After so many months, she had finally come to speak with him again and now that, too, was over. "Baeron!" she tried again, knowing that he would not reply and that he was beyond her reach. Forever.
And then something strange happened. The sensation of standing upright shifted and she knew that she was lying on hard ground. A river roared before her, and then it was all around her, smashing her like a little pebble. She groaned, trying to move her limbs and finding them hard and immovable. Consciousness came with memory and memory turned into consciousness. She knew then that she had been dreaming and Baeron hadn't been real. It felt worse than anything.
'I am dead,' she thought then. She had to be. No one could fall into a wild, vengeful river like that and hope to remain alive. 'So it was true,' a dim corner of her mind mused, 'I was to die at this journey.'
However, Irulan had learned from a certain previous experience that if you came to your senses and your body screamed with pain, most likely you were not dead. She hadn't died when she had stumbled into the depths of Bentanta's tomb in Egypt and she wasn't dead now, by the way her limbs ached. It was almost funny, come to think of it. Always she seemed to be flying off some cliff, and always coming back from the dead with merely a fracture or some damaged tissues. That time it had been Baeron who had softened her fall by placing himself beneath her and taking the hard impact, this time it had to be pure luck and the damnable water, since no other was here.
In that much, however, she was wrong.
As soon as she managed to open her eyes, she perceived a dullish grey sky overhead that spoke of dusk, and only moments later, the face of a stranger. She tried to jerk upright, the sudden fear she had been spared from when she had jumped into the river returning with full speed, but a hand on her shoulder prevented her from rising. Not that she could, if she wanted to, probably. "Don't get up yet," said the woman.
Irulan took a deep breath and tried to bite back the bile that had risen in her throat. The world seemed to spin and her head was thundering still with the roar of the water, even though she was out of it and on dry land. She slowly let herself sink back on the soft grass and only then dared to swivel her head to see her surroundings. She seemed to be lying somewhere in the forest with bushes and trees around her and a wider clearing to her left. "How do you feel?" the woman crouching beside her said then and she turned to look up at the long, black, sleek hair and the slanted, dark eyes. Obviously Far Eastern, she had a beautiful, but stern and somewhat hard face. Her accent, though, didn't back up her heritage and she spoke English with the fluency of someone born to the language.
"I...like I was dead and came back," Irulan rasped, closing her eyes to still the spinning world once more.
"Good," was the curt reply to that. "Better than not to feel anything at all."
Irulan cracked one eye open. "Who are you?"
The woman smiled then and she looked even prettier when she did that. "I have many names. But it is my birth-name, Jiang-qing, that you should know. No less for a daughter of kings."
Irulan's eyes widened with disbelief and against better advice once more she tried to sit up. Her arms were shaking when she leaned back on them, fixed on the face of her calm companion. "How do you...why did you call me that?"
The Chinese woman laughed softly and stood up, gazing down at a bewildered Irulan before she answered. "Be at ease. I mean no harm to you, Irulan."
This did nothing but make Irulan more anxious and by this time she had a strong suspicion that she was hallucinating the whole conversation. It seemed too absurd to be true. "Who sent you?" she whispered in fear and confusion.
Jiang-qing met her stare. "No one sends me. I go when asked."
They stared at each other for a moment and Irulan closed her eyes again, to keep the trees around Jiang-qing from spinning. She needed answers, but the questions seemed too hard to ponder upon. "Where am I?" she said finally. For a moment she thought that the woman would give her an enigmatic answer and ruin her hope, but the reply was short and certain.
"China."
"Did I really jump into a river and live to suffer?" she mumbled, shivering a little. The air seemed stuffed, but somehow very cool to her newly awakening senses.
She felt a hand pull the blanket further up to cover her better. "Yes." This woman had no sense of humor, by the looks of it, only dry confirmation. "I was late to prevent your jump, but just in time to fish you out."
Irulan's eyes shot open. "There were men!" she exhaled with fear and suppressed the need to rise and take a look around her to confirm they were alone.
"Yes." Another blank confirmation.
"Why?" she managed to croak. The world danced and earth, dusk, sky, trees waltzed.
"You ask many questions, King-daughter." This time there wasn't even confirmation or a decent answer. If she didn't feel so cold and sick and tired, maybe she would have been furious. "I only have so many answers. Rest some more."
So she did. Or she was forced to, when a black and deep sleep overcame her. When she woke again, it was dark and the fire was playing on the serene features of Jiang-qing when the woman leaned towards her. It seemed to be colder and Irulan was trembling like a leaf. "I…" she started and then closed her mouth, the clatter of her teeth both frightening and irritating to hear ears. "Cold," she managed to whisper finally.
The other woman quietly stepped away, then proceeded to place a few more sticks into the fire. She gestured Irulan to rise, but it proved to be impossible a task for her alone, so she assisted her and pulled her closer to the flames. An extra blanket was produced and wrapped tightly around her. Still, the bite of the cold seemed to creep in through the layers. "No blanket…for you," Irulan stuttered. Her head hurt. Her heart hurt. Her legs hurt. When had this journey stopped to be a vacation?
"I will be fine," Jiang-qing said quietly. "I will keep the watch, anyway." Only then did Irulan remember the other men and her gaze held the Chinese woman's for a long moment, willing the question into her mind. Either it worked or Jiang-qing was psychic. "They can not harm you any longer, Irulan," was the soothing and almost gentle addition. A shaky sigh of relief escaped her and Irulan wrapped herself tighter into her blankets. "Who…?"
"We don't know yet."
"We?"
Little orange flames danced in Jiang-qing's dark orbs. "The Circle."
Irulan blinked with surprise and disbelief and couldn't find words to utter for a few moments. "The CIRCLE?" Her head seemed to spin faster at that and swallowed hard. The other woman was silent and observant. Something about that attitude seemed familiar, though Irulan couldn't really think of why that was at the moment. "Why would...I mean how is it that the Circle..." Irulan halted and glanced at her before she decided to continue. "How come you know the Circle?" Her jaw ached from the effort of speaking the sentence.
"I work for them," Jiang-qing said with such natural tone that it seemed everyone on the planet should know that bit of information and Irulan was stupid to have asked it in the first place. She sighed when the confusion on the other woman's face prevailed. "Rest now. I will tell you all when you wake up."
She wanted to resist. But she knew that the Chinese woman was right. Her words were a tumble in Irulan's head and made no sense whatsoever. "Maybe when I wake up again," she thought to herself and let herself sink onto the grass once more. Before long, another draught of sleep took her.
When she woke again, it was somewhat lighter and the fire seemed much smaller. Irulan tried to swallow and found her throat sore. She tried to sit up once more and found Jiang-qing above her again. The woman had a cup of cool water and Irulan drank it lively, allowing the taste of cool water to race down her throat. "You look better. But it could be deceiving," she said after Irulan had drank all the water. "You have a fever and have been trembling like a leaf."
Irulan could have told her easily enough that she was sick. She was burning with a strange fire, and feeling cold at the same time. "If I die of sickness instead of that river, it'll be something worth to laugh about," she said grimly. "And well…at least I will die under a tree," she sighed to herself glancing up to the swaying branches. "And not on an asphalt sidewalk in New York."
"You choose to live in an jungle of buildings, and come to die under the trees of my land, King-daughter?" Jiang-qing just said then. She had the most enigmatic smile on her lips and an even more mysterious expression in her eyes. The way she chose her words, the way she said them…it was all so strange and alluring. Irulan shifted to rise. Jiang-qing placed a backpack and a few blankets behind her and it helped Irulan to sit up. That reminded her that her own backpack was probably lost and gone forever. She sighed in slow frustration and tried to think of something else. The forest was cool and silent around them, only the whisper of trees in the upcoming dawn were audible. She glanced at the woman who chose to sit across her, with true grace and calm, resting her wrists on her knees like some yoga instructor. They sat in silence until Irulan was fed up and broke in a hoarse voice. "I am rested now."
"Yes," was the approving reply, "enough to find meaning in my words." Nevertheless she allowed herself a break and glanced at the treetops and the slowly fading sky before she commenced. "As I have said before, my true name is Jiang-qing. I have come to find you and it is probably pure luck more than my own skill to do so before you died in these woods."
"Thank you," was all that came to mind and the Chinese woman nodded slowly in acceptance. "It's a big place," Irulan added a moment later, not knowing how to continue and feeling rather too much of a clumsy and ignorant New Yorker in this place. "I wouldn't know where to start looking for me."
Jiang-qing smiled. Probably because she was polite. Any decent person would have laughed out at that stupid remark. Irulan massaged her eyes, trying to force her brain to wake up. "I know this territory very well," was the kind comment. "I have traveled through it for dozens and dozens of years now. That is why the Circle contacted me and no other."
At that, Irulan had to look up and frown hard. Obviously her brain was still not working because Jiang-qing seemed to be in her late twenties. "Dozens of years?" A brief and placid nod. "Like in…Earth years?"
Again the other woman merely smiled with the slightest hint of amusement at that incredible perception. "I am old, King-daughter."
She wanted to tell Jiang-qing that this conversation was getting stranger by the moment and that she should please not call her that. Instead she blurted "Are you an elf?" before she could stop herself. If so, she would have been the first female elf Irulan had met. All female elves had chosen to leave to the Undying Lands before time was time. Or maybe they had been forced - maybe it had been thought that it was a kinder judgment on them. Men went to war, didn't they? Men faced the danger and ugliness of the world. So it had been men who stood their ground. Whatever the reason, she had neither heard, nor seen a single female elf and it had always seemed queer to her.
"Ah," smiled Jiang-qing. "No. My father was an elf. My mother mortal. Elfblood flows in my veins."
"As does immortality." The comment spoke of Irulan's wonder and surprise.
The other woman merely nodded. "That, too."
A short silence followed. "I'm sorry," Irulan stammered. "For staring. I mean...I have never met...Not that I have met too many elves or their wives...but this is rather...new."
"I am used to it," she said with a gentle wave of her arm. "It's only natural."
Another short silence. "So...how..."
"How old am I?" A mysterious smile bloomed on her lips. "Far too old, if you ask me."
Irulan nodded, trying to keep a respectful face. She should not prod into things that were not her business. She knew that all offspring of such unions were immortal, but she also knew that their number was so meager that it was a far rarer chance to meet someone like Jiang-qing than meeting even an elf. A slight shiver shook her out of her daze and she caught herself staring again. "Sorry," she mumbled and diverted her eyes to gaze into the blooming orange in the sky. Then she thought 'What the hell! I might never see it again,' and took another glimpse at the Chinese woman who sat in mild, patient amusement.
"Let us strike a deal," Jiang-qing said finally. Irulan waited with intense curiosity. "I will not comment on your staring at me. And you will not be offended if I stare at you."
"At me?" Irulan croaked.
"You are the first of the line of the King I have met," the other said solemnly. "It is an honor, Irulan."
"O-of course. I mean…no!" Irulan closed her eyes and silently cursed herself. "I meant to say," she sighed with stuffed anger. "The honor is mine, Jiang-qing."
A small laughter forced her to open her eyes again. 'This is a beautiful woman,' she thought, stupefied. There was something incredibly plain, smooth and earthy about Jiang-qin. Her incredibly young appearance along with the grace one saw in Far Eastern women only, plus a certain 'maturity' that was, no doubt, the fruit of all the years she had lived. It was ironic to realize that Irulan had felt this same excitement and curiosity when she had first set eyes on Legolas. Back then, he was as alien a creature as she could imagine herself confronting. Now Legolas seemed natural while Jiang-qing was overly exotic. "Sorry," she winced. That didn't probably sound right at all. "Do you have a different…"
"Mona. You can call me Mona," was the mirthful reply.
"Yeah," she snorted with mock frustration, grinning despite herself and nodding to confirm her own uselessness, "I am from New York."
The reply to that was enough to stupefy Irulan and force her to join the laughter of the Chinese beauty. "So am I!"
They laughed for many minutes until Irulan coughed and whimpered from the strain. Then Mona was kneeling beside her and massaging circles into her back. It helped to ease the pain. Irulan breathed deeply, then relaxed when she didn't feel the stab of pain again. "Don't tell me I fractured my rib again," she whispered a moment later.
"Again?"
"Yeah," she smirked. "Cause I've already been there, done that, you know."
"I think," Mona smiled, "you must have liked the experience. For you did it again."
To that, she could only roll her eyes and moan. "Damn!" she muttered, tentatively brushing her fingers over her right side. "Legolas was able to heal it really fast," she muttered to herself. Then she realized Mona's silence and glanced up. The woman was displaying an enigmatic smile. "You know him," Irulan added slowly, reading the expression correctly.
"Lord Legolas? I do." Mona shifted to sit beside her and a small silence set in. "You spoke of him in your sleep," she added then. "And of Baeron."
After a moment of bafflement, Irulan managed to pretend that she was busy wrapping herself tighter into her blankets. It took a few minutes for her to seek the words. "That is how you know of me, too." The silence was an affirmation and Irulan didn't know why she felt oddly betrayed. What had happened last year was, after all, sort of catastrophic in elven standards and it was no wonder that most of the community had heard of it in this or that fashion. Still, it made her feel uneasy and anxious as to what the Chinese woman might be thinking of her. Odd enough, she felt embarrassed. Not only because she had been the reason for Baeron's death, but also because Mona probably knew of Legolas' obsession with her. "I guess that's only fair," she whispered after what seemed a long silence.
"To be loved by men such as that?" was the incredulous reply. "No. I would say that is more than fair."
Irulan smiled to herself ruefully. At least she had the kindness of elves. Haldir would have given an answer like that. "Do you know Haldir, too?"
It was surprising to see Mona's smile freeze on her face right before she managed to order her features to indifference. That hadn't been what Irulan had expected as a reaction, at all. This time, the other woman seemed uncomfortable and rose to extinguish the fire. "I know the Marchwarden," was all she said, her back turned to Irulan's apprehensive gaze. The bitterness, however was hard to miss. 'Don't ask,' Irulan urged herself. 'It's rude. Totally impolite. Extremely unkind. And definitely none of your business.' Her lips thought otherwise. "Very well, I think." She flinched when Mona first froze, then did a slow turn to look down at Irulan. Her slanted black eyes seemed to bore into hers and it took her a few moments to stutter out an apology. "I mean…I meant…not that it's any of my business, of course…but…"
"No, it isn't."
Another short, curt and blunt reply. Irulan sighed and suddenly felt a pang of anger. Mona knew about her more than she was supposed to. She knew her lineage, her affairs with Legolas and even where the hell she was to be found. It seemed only fair that Irulan should know who the hell Mona was, too. And she was sick, damn it! And cold! Not to mention, hungry! So it was her right to be a bit…nosy? "Right," she said with obvious defensiveness and glanced into the dawn. "I guess it's only my affairs that should be announced to every living soul."
As soon as she said it, she regretted her own rudeness and childishness. The sharp silence that followed didn't help. She waited and waited. When no accusation came, she massaged her eyes again, suddenly feeling very tired. "You saved me from certain death and I thank you by offending you." She took a deep breath and fixed the black orbs of the other woman. "I am truly sorry. It won't happen again." She bit her lip for a moment, then reluctantly added "Though with me…you never know."
For a moment Irulan thought that Mona would turn away and refuse the apology. But she surprised Irulan once again by smiling a sincere smile. "Fair enough, King-daughter. You are an honest woman."
"Let's not forget rude," Irulan countered with an exasperated mumble.
"No. How could we?" When she looked up, Mona was grinning and odd enough, it didn't look silly on her young and serene face. The tension between them eased up and Irulan smiled, trying to feel the warmth of the dawning day.
"I suppose you can't heal my rib?" was Irulan's mock frustrated demand.
Mona stilled then and Irulan stilled with her, watching her face with an anxiety she couldn't explain. The day was silent, and yet the standing woman turned away, gazing towards the forest as she stood as if in rapt attention. 'Oh God!' Irulan thought just then, the whole events of the previous day attacking her with a mighty force. 'They found us!' Her body seemed to find this as the perfect excuse to fall apart. Her head begun to spin and once again she trembled underneath the blankets. Her eyes bore into Jiang-qing, standing like a carved statue, indifferent to anything else but to what she was focused on. Irulan took a hasty look around. 'This time there isn't even a river to jump into!' she thought ruefully. On another day it would have been funny. Right now it was rather far from funny. They listened and listened and still Irulan wasn't any wiser as to what the hell they were listening to.
When Jiang-qing finally took a deep breath as if to brace herself for the upcoming meeting, she turned to meet the other woman's eyes. Despite all the panic she was feeling, the smile on her face snatched Irulan's words from her mind. "I think," Jiang-qing said slowly, looking strangely pleased and a bit anxious at the same time, "I won't need to, after all."