Part Ten

Where Do I Go From Here?

All of these miles and where have I been? All of this time that I've wasted

All of my dreams they're just gone like the wind

Yeah – I've got to face it

There's nowhere to go from here

Standing here cold and shaken

How did I lose my way?

On this long lonely road that I've taken

Bryan Adams – Where Do I Go From Here

I think it was the nights that were the loneliest. Never does anyone realise just how wonderful what they had was until it is forever beyond their grasp. I was no exception.

I was housed now in a wooden hut on the outskirts of a small town called Harrowcath. The boards that constructed its floor and walls were encrusted with rot and decay was rife on every surface. But it was a roof over my head, even if it was a leaky one. My arrival had caused quite a stir in this sleepy town, and why not! A young maiden appearing from the woods in the dead of night, trailing blood and weeping, dressed in the garb of the Wood Elves. It was no small wonder then that the Head of the Village had approached me with handfuls of garlic to drive me away like I was some common vampire! At the time the humour of the situation had been lost on me. In my bedraggled state it had taken me some time to calm down enough to explain myself and even longer for them to realise that there really was no need for the garlic. I had been offered the small hut on the northern border by the village head and his spouse, and I was all too eager to accept. The hut would require some work, but I wasn't leaving anytime soon and something to do would take my mind off… things. Throughout the day I laboured with Anelle, the maidservant of the Head and his wife. Together we washed, cleaned and cared for their eleven children. Quite how they managed to get so many was beyond me; I hadn't even been able to manage two! It took Anelle's gentle explanation to convince me that they hadn't all come at once. They were an unruly rabble, unused to adult authority and given free reign of the village. No one dared oppose them for fear of their parent's response. The village head, Thornhill I think his name, was a fat, balding man. He was quick to temper and could remain in a rage for days. Anelle had warned me to stay clear of him; he was unused to change and despised anything that hinted of progress or 'regress' as he called it. He had demonstrated such on my first day of arrival, when he saw me grinding herbs with a pestle and mortar, instead of the traditional, worn-smooth flat rock. "Huh, progress," he had snorted, his nostrils flaring and layers of fat scrunching up as he frowned, "Regress more like." I never liked him, and I liked his wife even less. She was a simpering slip of a woman, masking a non-existent figure under a shapeless sheet of material that she called a dress. She was suspicious of everyone who was female and prettier than she was, which was almost the entire non-masculine population of the village. It was no secret that she despised Anelle and myself most of all. We were after all both working in the house of her lusting husband all day everyday, and therefore a constant risk. She went out of her way to make our lives just that extra bit harder, and Anelle's wage a considerable amount less. It was no small wonder the children paid their parents no mind. In that first week of working there I discovered within myself a dormant set of feelings. Maternal, motherly ones, that kicked in when I saw all those children under my care. It was a very strange sensation and one I was most unused to, but I made best use of it. The children's behaviour certainly calmed down a bit after my arrival, as many people in the village noted. In fact, mainly because of that development, I became quite well liked. Anelle had a lovely young man, who she planned to marry within the year, and one night she invited me to go to the village tavern with the both of them. She said it would be my opportunity to 'meet people', but I could read the inflection in her words. She wanted me to meet 'a certain male someone' and even though I knew her intentions were good the very thought of it made me feel sick. As far as I was concerned there was no one else but Legolas, and I had lost him, through my own folly I might add. I consented to go however, if it would give Anelle some peace of mind. I knew that she had been fretting over me these past few weeks and I did not relish the thought of the coddling I would have to endure, should I refuse.

I should have refused. That was my first thought as we walked into the crowded bar area. Even extensive coddling would have been preferable to this! The place was putrid with the stench of too many men, drunk on too much liquor. Every instinct was screaming at me to run, but I fought them down, forcing myself to enter that tavern calmly, head held high. I swallowed hard, my throat tightly constricted and I could feel a burning, stinging pain building up behind my eyes. I dabbed in what I hoped was a surreptitious manner at my damp eyes with the sleeve of my cotton dress. I was not surreptitious enough, however, as seconds later Anelle was at my elbow, her fair face flushed with concern, "Vénea! You are weeping! What has brought you to tears so suddenly?" I muttered a curse beneath my breath for my carelessness. As a result of my folly I may now have to endure the coddling as well as a visit to this wretched place. I began to stammer out a sentence hoping it was not too late to repair the damage my tears had done, "Please Anelle, do not overreact! It was but the smoke that caught me unawares!" I hoped, though I believed my hopes to be ultimately futile, that she would not hear the tremor in my voice. This place reminded me far too much of Legolas and the palace of Mirkwood, though I could not for the life of me think why. It was as far removed from the tranquil halls and laughing elves as any place I had been these past few months, but everything seemed to conspire against me to replay that final scene of the tear-stained face I had seen in the healing wing. I realised I had to sit down and soon. I plonked into the stool nearest me, not caring that I was now sat at one of the stools nearest the bar. Anelle buzzed around me for about five minutes, like a mother crowding her young with attention and protectiveness. I felt positively smothered. I managed to shoo her away with the lie that all I needed was a little time to myself to regain my composure. Even after that I caught her supposedly discreet looks my way for a full half-hour before she finally devoted her night to her future husband. It was taking all of my self-control not to turn green with envy. How could some people be so lucky? So darn fortunate to have all they wanted right there within their grasp and totally obtainable, should they but reach out their hand? And yet, they still spend what felt like every waking moment complaining about it? If I hadn't been sitting opposite a mirror I would have found it very hard to convince myself that I was even of the same species of people that I currently shared a tavern with. As it was, I just tried not to look into the mirror, I found the very sight of myself intolerably depressing at that moment. A sudden waft of alcohol stronger than any I had previously come into contact with stung my nostrils. I grimaced and raised one hand to shield my face and my poor sensitive nose as a huge, reeking man leaned across the wooden bar surface towards me. "You want anything to drink, love?" he questioned groggily, his words slurred and flowing together almost gloopily: how I imagined treacle would sound if it could talk. I was about to shake my head in the negative when he offered me a putrid smelling decanter. "It's the easiest way to forget, love. If you've got something you'd rather not think of, this is the very thing to drown your sorrows." I gave a slight nod, accepting the decanter still somewhat warily. The best way to forget, eh? I took a stilted sip, the liquid burning down my throat to light a fire in my stomach. It was not altogether unpleasant and I found myself taking a longer drink.

"Then, do you know what he said to me?" I slurred, my voice oozing out from my mouth, my tongue feeling totally beyond my control. "He said, hic… he said…" I paused, glancing down to study the disappointingly dry bottom of my pint glass. "I say, barman," I stuttered, raising my voice as high as I could get it, "I need a refill here. It's a bit empty." He rolled his eyes as he made his way over to me, carrying with him a jug of some amber liquid. "You lookin' for a refill of-" I cut him, raising a hand as sharply as I could. "I don't care what it is," I told him raising my chin, and defiantly not caring if my words all slid together in one incoherent jumble, "just fill her up there, my good man!" He poured some of the liquid into my glass, and I watched him with as much eagerness as I could muster. When he finished I grasped the glass unsteadily, trying to get my unresponsive hand to stay steady and so spill as little drink as possible. "I hope you've got enough money to pay for all this, doll," The bartender said, scrutinising me carefully. I looked up, my eyes wide, only his voice having alerted me to the fact he was there at all, and I found him an untimely intrusion in my steaming tirade against my ex. "I thought you said that I wouldn't have to pay, after I'd had such a hard time with my ex-husband, an' all?" I questioned blearily, too far gone to really care about or understand what I was saying.

I landed in the street outside with a harsh bump. "And don't come back!" came the cry from the door, before it slammed shut in my face. I raised my eyebrows slightly; that had been the bartender. And I had thought him to be such an understanding man! I muttered something about all men being pigs as I wobbled to my feet. I staggered slightly, stumbling into the gutter as I meandered across the dirt road, my feet stubbornly refusing to go straight ahead. I didn't really care where I was going, so long as it was in the general direction of home. A walk that had taken me ten minutes on the way there took me one hour to get back. I arrived on my doorstep, one twig protruding from my birds-nest of a hairstyle, after a rather interesting encounter with a most displeasing briar bush. I sure taught that bush a lesson! It won't pick a fight with me again! Nasty bush like that was probably raised in a plant pot! But I suppose I couldn't fault it for the way it turned out if it had stared life in something as pure evil as a plant pot. I was so distracted with thoughts of the origins of that briar bush that I walked straight into the door. Moments later I landed on the stone doorstep with a drunken giggle. I had forgotten to open the silly thing! I stood up, still giggling, and turned the handle, almost falling into my house as the door swung open suddenly. I landed face first on my worn out little bed, the springs creaking dangerously, but I was fast asleep before I had even had chance to roll over.

I woke up with the mother of all hangovers. I frowned and groaned, my throat feeling as dry and crusty as sandpaper. I tried to sit up, but fell back instantly, covering my eyes protectively and holding my head to keep it from rocking straight off my shoulders, as it had felt inclined to when I first sat up. It was a couple of minutes before I dared to move again. I staggered to my feet and made it to the sink and mirror in my bathroom by a very convoluted route. For a moment I didn't recognise the face that stared back at me from the mirror. Her hair was bedraggled and hung in greasy clumps, around a face that was stained with tears and mud. And was that a twig in my hair? I pulled at it half-heartedly; I hadn't had any real reason to care about my appearance for a while now. Not since Legolas had… Wait a minute, thinking about Legolas brought back a dim recollection of the night before: Legolas' name followed by a lot of very bad words in several languages. Oops… But he deserved it, I thought, a furious blush staining my cheeks a guilty crimson. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to hold it in my lungs for a long as possible, before letting it out in a long slow whoosh. Valar, how I missed him! I missed waking up every morning and seeing his face, I missed his laugh, and I missed his smile that could light up an entire room in seconds. But most of all I missed not knowing if he was even out there under the same sky, staring up at the same stars. I didn't even know if Legolas was alive or dead. I shook my head slowly, a betraying tear leaking out to splash desolately into the sink I leant over. How I could I get on with my life when my heart was already lost to someone I knew didn't love me? How could I move on? The answer was simple. I couldn't. A mocking little voice chanted inside my head 'Can't forgive and can't forget'. I was doomed.

Into each life some sun must shine

Well, someone else must be getting mine

The days are so empty

Nights are so long

Awaking to find again that you've gone

I used to say you were wonderful

Now I just wonder where you are

It's easy to say memories fade

But I'm still missing you

Nothing's changed…

Steps – Deeper Shade of Blue

The pounding in my head was not letting up. I shook it slightly, hoping somehow to clear the cobwebs that had clouded it since I first woke up, but to no avail. Life seemed to be one long unending blur today… The feeling of Anelle shaking my shoulder came to me dimly and I gave her a distant smile, only to be graced in return by an incredulous look. "What are you doing with William?" she questioned, almost as if she was afraid of the answer. I stared at her for a couple of moments without a clue what she was going on about. William was the youngest son of the head and his wife and as such the most spoilt of the lot. It was William I was currently dunking in and out of the sink, having neglected to actually take the shirt off his back before washing it. "Oops…" I commented, dropping him back into the water like a red hot coal, before fishing him out again on the off-chance that he might drown. Non-too-carefully I deposited the soaking wet child onto the draining board next to me and with an unusual feeling of detachment, wondered how long it would take him to dry out, or at least cough all of the water out of his lungs. I carried him to the step outside, absently rubbing his back to dislodge the water that seemed to have accumulated; knowing the sun would dry him off. Fortunately he was still too busy choking to call for his parents or I would have spent my last few moments in the village there and then. As it was, by the time he could draw enough breath to speak he would probably have dried off and then would have no evidence to condemn me. His parents would most likely shrug it off as a fanciful tale and though I did feel remorse about almost drowning the boy, it might at least take his ego down a much-needed peg or two. I decided to make it up to him later by not informing his parents of the prank he would most likely pull on me by the end of the afternoon and so spare him the indignity of being exiled to his room with no supper. I continued my trail back through the door, my head still pounding relentlessly. Even the swish of my skirt hem against the doorjamb sounded like the roar of an incoming tide. A familiar noise penetrated my aching mind. A sound that was oh, so familiar and yet totally incongruous to me now. It was a voice I had never thought to hear again… "Have you seen a woman pass through? Perhaps in that month just gone. She would have looked young, less than thirty by your years." I froze on the spot, utterly unable to move. This could not be happening. This scene had played in my mind in all of my happiest dreams and worst nightmares. But this was no dream or nightmare now, I was awake and this was really happening. It was all just too much – why return now, just when I was beginning to move on? Well, maybe not move on, but at least make progress on my new life, a life where that voice had no place, whether I wanted it to or not. It was impossible now, my mind told me that. But my heart… my heart was ripping itself in two all over again, as it had in every dream I had had, every wish, every hope, every fear had opened the wound a little further, a little deeper. But no more. I couldn't take it! How was I supposed to endure all the heartache, all the second-guessing, and stay sane? No one could! My mind came to its own conclusion and I made a break to escape from the doorway, wedging the wood in place behind me as a barrier against the voice and its owner. Not this time. I had given too much, tried too hard, and broken my heart over and over again too many times to put myself through it again. My hands found a blade. Was this the only answer? A painful fight to end a year of hurting? Could I justify that to myself and to the one I was about to attack? There was no answer, not from me, not from that inner voice in my head, but from Anelle in the corner of the room. Stepping forward she looked at me, looked at the sword within my grasp, saw the tears at the corners of my eyes. She laid her hand firmly on my shoulder and spoke, "You do what you have to do."

Legolas stood in the middle of a town of mortals. It was not a situation he felt comfortable with, not at all, but then love and romance can do crazy things to a man. Or to an elf, for that matter. He was here for her. The trees had told him that she had passed this way on that fateful night so long ago. What had driven her here? He loved her, was she too blind to see that, or did she realise and had left anyway? He had no answers, but then, that was why he had come here, to find the answers, to put a stop to all the possible scenarios that kept playing in his head. To make sure she really was alive. But what then? A voice from within questioned. What if she does not want you? What if she has found someone new, someone she can be with without fear? What if she has forgotten all about you? He was so busy trying to block out the thoughts of doubt and despair that were creeping into his mind that he did not hear the person sneaking up behind him, nor did he see the shadow as the sword was raised to plunge down into his back.

I froze. The sword was raised in position above his unsuspecting back, my arms were straining with the leashed tension it would need to drive that sword down and end it there and then. Do it now! My eyes narrowed slightly, and my arms trembled but made no move to strike. Damn that elf, I could not do it! Not then, not tomorrow, not ever! It was no use, I was still too far in love with him to even risk getting any nearer to him with the blade than I already was. I took a huge stride backwards, lowering the blade to a safer height and adjusting my grip on the hilt. He chose that moment to turn. For a second I was frozen all over again, though this time for completely different reasons. He looked just as he had the first time I had ever seen him, leaning over the prow of a boat, a playful breeze catching stray locks of his hair, some two hundred years ago. I shifted my position again, moving so that the tip of the blade was firmly embedded in the earth at my feet, it effectively blunted the sharpened end and helped me to stay upright on my increasingly weakening legs. I tossed my hair slightly over one shoulder, trying to affect an air of total nonchalance even though my every sense was on hyper-alert, every pore on my skin aware of his movements. "Hello Legolas, it's been awhile." Of all the understatements I've ever heard not another has come even remotely close to that one. To me it felt as if I had been deprived of this sight of him for an entire lifetime, and I was staring at him as hard as I could, hoping to imprint his image on my eyes forever. He whirled suddenly at the sound of my voice and stared at me breathlessly as if there were a million things he wanted to say to me , all perched on the tip of his tongue. Then his expression changed. He cocked his head at me slightly. "Vénea," he spoke, his voice slightly husky. I felt my knees go weak all over again and doubled the intensity of my grip on the sword until my knuckles turned white. "Hmmm?" I managed, unable to come out with anything more substantial. "I have missed you." I blinked, my eyes filling up with tears so fast that my vision suddenly became a blur. My voice was thick when I replied and unsteady, though I strove to keep it even, "And I you." He stepped forwards, towards me, just a tiny motion but I felt that he would have liked to move closer, but was afraid of my reaction. "Vénea," he whispered again, and my knees failed completely. I fell to the floor with a completely undignified thump, and tried to make my fall look natural. "Just needed to sit down for a bit," I murmured as an excuse as Legolas flew to kneel beside me in concern. Inwardly, I berated myself for ruining the moment; what kind of fool falls over at a time like this? "Your kind of fool, apparently," Legolas replied, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips. He shrugged slightly as I blinked up at him and answered my silent question, "I could read the thoughts on your face. I've known you long enough." I gave a shy, half-smile. Was this really happening? Could Legolas and I really be here? Or was this another one of the cruel tricks Fate has been known to play on me sometimes. I knew that I could never go through having to be parted from him, not again so I was just hoping against hope that Fate had decided to play nicely for once. "What I wanted to say," Legolas continued, apparently having recovered from the shock of my sudden tumble to ground level, "was… Why were you trying to kill me?" I blinked in surprise. Had I heard him right? Had he just built up all that tension, just to ask me that question? Where were all the professions of undying love, all the renewed wedding vows and proposals getting down on one knee? All things considered it was a fair enough question, but even that realisation was not enough to quell the disappointment that rose up in me. I heaved a huge sigh and struggled to regain my feet. Legolas reached out a hand and tried to catch my wrist in his grasp to pull me up, but I neatly evaded him and continued alone. He pulled back slightly, a hurt look crossing his features, Once I had regained my feet and, to some extent my control, I looked him squarely in the eye. "I don't know what you think happened the last time we saw each other, Prince Legolas, but for me it was one of the most painful ordeals I have ever endured and I'm not talking about the torture. You broke my heart, not once but twice, and I was not ready to go through that again. So, yes, I was going to kill you." I finished strongly and raised my chin slightly. He just looked at me, a thousand words conveyed in that brief glance and my heart began to pound so viciously that I thought it would rip out of my chest. Then he broke the contact, his eyes losing their previous intensity and a smile began to grow on his lips. I was thoroughly perplexed. How could what I had just confessed ever be construed as even remotely funny? "You would never kill me," he stated simply and I felt my ire rise even more strongly than before. How dare he? Just because I was a woman, and a woman who had loved him at that, he thought I was incapable of killing him? Though I had just proved to myself that he was inescapably right, that was knowledge I decided to skip over that particular piece of information for the moment. "What, so you see me as no threat at all?" I questioned. I stepped towards him angrily. He backed up a pace. "Do I not merit even turning around to face when I am holding a drawn sword at your back? Just because I am a woman…" Legolas allowed me to go no further. Stepping forwards again he quickly closed the gap between us, his vibrant eyes clouded with concern "No Vénea, how could you think such a thing? I do not think you would not kill me because of your gender!" He continued, leaning closer towards me so our foreheads were almost touching, "I know you would not kill me because of who you are. You love me." I felt one half of my mind instantaneously turn to mush, he was right, of course he was right, I did love him. But the other half felt turned almost to steel. Regardless of the truth in his words he had no right to expect such emotion from me, nor to just assume it. This was one big-headed elf who needed to be brought down a peg or two! "How dare you!" I began, advancing towards him even further, "You can't just assume that! I just told you how you broke my heart, drove me to live alone out here, and you have the nerve to suggest that I can't kill you because I still love you? That is as may be, but you have no right…" Again he stopped my words, cutting me off in my prime. But not with another sentence. With a kiss. I melted against him; it was all I could do not to fall right back down to the floor again, there and then. When he broke of I was almost ashamed of the whimper of protest that broke from my lips. Almost. After all, he was a really good kisser… He drew back from me, lowering his eyes to my level he spoke once more, "I love you, too." I blinked. Now not only did my entire body feel turned to mush, my lips still tingled slightly and I was completely struck dumb. Had my mind not been totally occupied by staring in utter disbelief at the elf in front of me I would have felt incredibly embarrassed. How could he love me? After all I had done, after all I had said he was still willing to say those things? What of Osellë, what of the child he had with her? My mind was whirling with questions; too many, too close together for me to be able to discern one enough to actually speak it and have it answered. I stood stock still, rooted to the spot and feeling more stupid by the second. Legolas leaned forwards slightly, his blue eyes narrowed with concern, "Vénea?" he spoke hesitantly. "Did you hear me?" I made no response, for two main reasons, one that I was still too shocked to move, and two that I was trying to figure out a fool-proof way to test if I was actually dreaming. A third and more distant reason was that I figured that after all he put me through he deserved to stew in his own juices for a while. I managed to break myself from that stupor, my eyes focusing on him once more and he smiled suddenly in relief. Right then, I thought to myself. It's now or never. I can do this now or I can spend the rest of my life regretting not doing it, it's time to stand up and be counted, it's time to be the person I used to be. I stepped a pace backwards, I held my head up high, chin raised. "Legolas," I said, my tone low but unwavering, "You may take me home now."