This is a continuation of Identity Unveiled, Powers Unsheathed for those who wanted it... otherwise read the epilogue, coming hopefully in a few days.
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They remained at Imladris for several days. Elizabette and Súláríl rode alone in the bright warm forests, enjoying the difference from Mirkwood.
Did I do right? Elizabette asked Súláríl. I do not know.
You did, I think, Súláríl replied reassuringly. You have no reason to return to your own world, and you do not belong in Middle- Earth. Hopefully you will feel that you belong on Valinor.
Elizabette was slightly relieved. I could not go back, she said. After seeing that anything is possible... And Legolas told me that my world hides the true identities of people. How do I know who is evil? I never trusted Matron, but I did not know that she was so horrible... or that she came from Middle- Earth. And how did she get here- or there? She must have had some method, yet if it was that easy why do not other people come here?
Súláríl replied, Perhaps there is only one world after all, and there are different levels of consciousness.
No, Elizabette said decidedly, Middle- Earth is a different world. I would know if it was the same. But I do not understand how the Lieutenant could have traveled... or indeed how Legolas and I got here.
Perhaps we will never know, Súláríl replied.
Unexpected and Unwelcome Visitors
A few days later they were again in the dim forest of Mirkwood. The elves had laid a fire with dry sticks of wood that had fallen from dying trees. Legolas had climbed a tree and was sitting on the uppermost branches, looking out over the treetops. The others sat in small groups around the fire.
Legolas jumped down lightly from the tree. His gaze strayed over the other elves, pausing when he noticed that Elizabette was not there. He saw her after a moment, though her blue dress blended with the shadows. She sat several yards away from the fire, alone. Her head was bowed and her shoulders stiff and tense. Legolas could not tell if she was crying.
"Elizabette?" he asked. "Are you all right?"
"Yes," she replied flatly without moving.
Legolas frowned slightly. "What is wrong?"
Elizabette did not reply.
Legolas lowered his voice. "Are you regretting your decision?"
Elizabette looked up. Legolas could not read her expression, and her eyes were downcast.
"Decision?" she asked blankly. "Oh. My decision to go to Valinor. I do not wish to speak of it right now."
Legolas frowned again. "What is wrong, Elizabette?"
She seemed not to hear him. She did not move but the elf sensed that she was listening intently.
Suddenly she stood, startling everyone. She stared to the west, her sharp eyes penetrating the oppressive dimness.
She smiled grimly. "Yes. They are coming."
Legolas looked in the same direction. He detected a slight movement, and as he watched he saw a small band of orcs, formidable, spear- carrying.
"Orcs...?" he said, but Elizabette cut him off. She turned to the other elves, most of whom were staring to the west.
"You will stay back," she said. She was not warning them, nor was she giving any sort of order. She was merely stating a fact.
Feláren, a female elf who had become friends with Elizabette, protested, "You cannot mean to fight them by yourself..."
A fire burned in her gray eyes. "I do not mean to fight them," she said. She did not elaborate.
She began to turn back to the west, but Legolas caught her eye and she stopped. Their gaze held.
After a long moment, Elizabette shook her head slightly. "No, Legolas," she said softly, "this I must do alone."
The other elves watched them curiously. They could hear Elizabette perfectly but none of them understood.
Elizabette glanced quickly to the west. The orcs were drawing nearer. The noise that they made as they ran was terrible to the delicate ears of the elves. The orcs seemed to enjoy crushing green things that were hardly in their path.
She glanced back at the elf. Legolas could not read her expression. Her gray eyes were bottomless and her face controlled. Nevertheless, he understood what she meant. She stared into his eyes until he nodded slightly. Then she turned swiftly away.
The orcs approached. Elizabette strode forward, each step altogether balanced and confident. She stopped as they ran up.
Legolas could see easily that they were perfectly ready to slice her head off. She drew her sword in one fluid motion. The white metal rang as it came free of the hardened leather sheath.
"You will leave," she said. Her passionate tones resonated clearly in the silent forest.
The orcs laughed. Legolas grimaced in hatred at their rough amusement. The gravelly jeering tones reverberated in his head.
Elizabette did not move but Legolas saw the delicate bones of her back stiffen almost imperceptibly. She waited for the laughter to die out.
The leader of the orcs spoke. He was the tallest and the grimiest, his rusted helm caked in age-old dirt. He said,
"These warrior elves let a weakling maiden defend them!" He paused as the others laughed. "What will they do when you are dead, maid?" He joined the mocking laughter.
Elizabette gritted her teeth but did not move. The leader suddenly thrust his heavy rusted broad- bladed sword at her. She parried the blow with a quick slash of her own sword. The leader's sword shook under the jolt and he drew it away hastily.
She did not give him a chance for surprise. She swung her sword at his head, then whirled it and quickly slashed at his arm. The feigned movement put him off guard and dark blood gushed from his hand.
He roared in anger and drove his sword toward her. She swung out of the way and spun quickly, managing to get behind him. She pointed the tip of her sword at his neck. Just in time he turned and blocked her sword.
Elizabette was concentrating on the leader and did not notice the other orcs approaching. She stabbed his other arm, this time the one that held the sword. He yelled, tones grating with hostility, and the other orcs closed in .
One managed to cut Elizabette's arm from the elbow to the wrist, but she drove him back with a quick jab of the sword. She whirled in fury at the others and pushed them back. They jumped out of the way quickly, seeing the force of her anger.
Elizabette stabbed her sword tip toward the leader. He leapt back, bringing up his heavy sword. She knocked it out of his hand with a quick twist of her own sword and stabbed at his shoulder.
She stepped back and surveyed the orcs. They had bunched into a small group again, with the injured leader at the front.
"This is the sword of Eärendil," she said, her voice cold and intense. "You will leave now or feel its bite." Without any warning she stepped forward and slashed at the leader. She cut his arm and it bled profusely.
Legolas could see that she would not kill any of the orcs purposely. It was not in her nature; he was not sure that she would be able to do it. Yet the orcs watched her with fear. She stood still, waiting for them to move.
Suddenly the leader jumped forward and stabbed again at her injured arm. She did not allow the dirty blade to touch her skin but thrust her blade toward his throat. He froze, blade stiff in his immobile hand.
"Leave, or you will die." She spoke softly, but her tone was grim and menacing and it carried to the elves, standing at the fire. "Leave and never return."
She drew the blade away from his neck and slashed again at his arm. With a sudden yell he turned and ran, the other orcs straggling after him. She stood and watched them for a moment, then turned and went back to the other elves. They stood by the fire, watching her.
Elizabette glanced down at the sword and wiped it off on the dry grass. She sheathed it smoothly and went to stand by the other elves.
"They will not return," she said.
Legolas looked at her. "Let me see your arm," he said.
She held it out. He examined the cut. "Does it hurt?" he asked.
"No."
Legolas frowned. "It should be bleeding."
Elizabette shrugged. "It does not matter," she said.
Legolas shook his head. "It does matter. If it does not hurt, and does not bleed, it could be poisoned."
One of the female elves came over. "I have some athelas," she said. "Have you need of it?"
Legolas considered for a moment. "Yes," he answered. "It would be well." He turned to Elizabette. "Sit down by the fire," he instructed.
She sighed and sat down. She was weary, but she had fought well and she knew it. She smiled slightly. She had managed to drive away the orcs without killing any of them.
Legolas came over and sat beside her. One of the other elves had set some water to boil in a pot over the fire. He tossed an athelas leaf into the warm water and a clean fragrance filled the air.
Legolas glanced at her. "Why did you do it?" he asked softly.
Elizabette looked up. "If you and the others had fought the orcs, some from both sides might be killed. I did not want that. The orcs might have killed me, but they did not."
Legolas frowned. "Was it worth that? We could have fought."
Elizabette shook her head. "I did not want anyone to die."
Legolas smiled at her. "You did well," he said. "I cannot see how you can use a sword so well without ever being taught."
Elizabette smiled. "Súláríl thinks that it is in my blood," she said, "though how he knows that I know not."
I can sense it, Súláríl said into her mind. Elizabette shrugged.
Legolas looked into the pot. The water was boiling and the athelas was ready.
"I will do it, Legolas," offered a female elf, Anarel.
Legolas glanced at her. He nodded. "You are a better healer than I."
Anarel laughed lightly. "I do not think so," she replied, "but I have long studied the subject."
Legolas moved away while Anarel bathed Elizabette's cut gently with the water. It did not hurt, but Elizabette felt a rest creep over the arm. She felt that the athelas had helped in some way.
Legolas returned after a few minutes. "The course is clear," he said to the others. There are no other evil creatures near."
Elizabette looked up. "Did you sense the orcs coming?"
"No. I was weary and was not attentive. I will be on my guard now."
Anarel wrapped Elizabette's arm gently with soft strips of cloth. "You fought well, My Lady," she said as she stepped away.
"Thank you," Elizabette replied.
The other elves soon slipped back into their Quenya conversations, though Elizabette sensed a difference in their tones.
She remained seated on the ground, leaning against a strong old tree. After a few moments, Legolas came to sit nearby. "Did you know that the orcor (orcs) were coming, Elizabette?" he asked.
"Yes." She said no more.
Legolas frowned. "How?" he asked. "I felt nothing."
"You said earlier that you were not paying attention," replied Elizabette.
Legolas shrugged his shoulders. "May be," he said, "but you are avoiding the question."
Elizabette sighed. "I sensed it," she said. "And I was also expecting them."
Legolas did not pursue the subject. "You should sleep," he said. "Does your arm feel better?"
Elizabette shook her head. "I cannot feel any difference," she answered. "It did not hurt before, and it does not now."
Legolas said nothing more but Elizabette sensed that he was worried. "Good night," she said to him, going to her pack.
"Mána lómë," he replied softly.
---
The next morning they began again to travel toward the palace. Legolas and Elizabette rode slightly behind the others. They rode silently, both communicating with their horses.
Legolas, Silrocca said, what is troubling you?
Legolas did not reply for a moment. Then he answered, Elizabette's arm should bleed. I am worried that it is poisoned.
What can you do about it? Did the athelas not help?
I do not know, but I do not think that it did. Elizabette does not seem to care.
Why not?
I do not know.
Perhaps she knows something that you do not.
She knows many things that I do not.
Ask her.
Legolas sighed and glanced at Elizabette. She had been playing with Súláríl's mane, but as he turned toward her she looked up.
"What is wrong?" she asked.
"Does your arm pain you?"
"No."
Legolas frowned. "Do you think that it is healing?"
"No." Elizabette glanced quickly down at her arm.
"I think that it may be poisoned."
Elizabette raised her eyebrows. "Would the athelas not take care of that?"
Legolas stared forward into the dim trees. "I do not know," he replied. "It should have." He glanced swiftly at Elizabette. She did not look at him.
She rested a hand on Súláríl's crest. His thick mane blew lightly in the breeze. He arched his neck and pranced, showing off.
Legolas laughed slightly. "You do not seem worried," he said.
Elizabette glanced around quickly before replying. "Well... Something grows on my mind. But let us not speak of that now." Súláríl nickered to Silrocca. He paced into a swift trot. Elizabette's curls bounced on her shoulders and her indigo cloak swept out behind her.
Silrocca matched their pace and Legolas tossed Elizabette a teasing grin. He was still able to sit a trot better than she.
Súláríl slipped up into a canter, hardly faster than the trot. Elizabette smiled as they passed the others.
After a few minutes they eased back down to a walk to allow the other elves to catch up. Súláríl stood stiffly.
After a moment, Elizabette asked, Súláríl, is something amiss?
The horse answered, My left front leg is sore. I must be careful.
Should I get down?
No. I can bear you for a time.
Elizabette looked worried but she said nothing.
"Now you do look worried," Legolas said. "What is the matter?"
"Súláríl said that his leg is sore," she responded uneasily.
Legolas glanced down at the horse's feet. "Is it very painful?" he asked.
It is not too bad.
"He says that it is not... yet," Elizabette replied. "I hope that it is not my fault for asking him to canter."
Legolas frowned. "It should not be from that."
Do you know why it is sore, Súláríl?
No. I did not notice it until we slowed.
Elizabette jumped down from his back. She picked up his foot and examined it. There seemed to be nothing wrong. Legolas looked for a stone or a cut but he could not see anything either.
His eyebrows creased into a frown. "We should let him rest," he said. He called the others over and explained quickly. "Sera, Súláríl, írë matlmë," (Rest, Súláríl, while we eat) he added to the horse.
Elizabette examined her arm. It did not bleed, nor did it pain her. Indeed she hardly noticed it at all, though she felt that it had not healed.
The elves lingered longer over the meal than usual to allow Súláríl more time to rest. Elizabette sat away from the others, near her horse.
Does your leg feel better?
No. Not much.
I should not ride, said Elizabette, worried.
He tore off a mouthful of dying grass but did not find it to his liking. The grass dies quickly in the shade of the trees, he said to Elizabette. I am surprised that there is any at all.
She smiled slightly and held out a piece of her bread. He took it gratefully.
It tastes better than dead grass, he offered playfully.
Elizabette grinned. I should hope so, she replied.
When everyone was ready, Elizabette picked up Súláríl's foot again. "I cannot see anything that could be causing pain," she said to Anarel, who had come over to look.
"Does he know how it happened?"
"No."
Anarel looked carefully over the sole and up to the joint. "Perhaps he strained it," she suggested. "You should not ride him. You can ride with someone else."
Legolas came up behind them. "You can ride with me," he offered.
"Are you certain?" Elizabette asked quickly. "Will Silrocca mind?"
"No. She can carry both of us."
Elizabette looked dubiously at Silrocca. "She is quite tall," she said doubtfully.
Legolas smiled as Silrocca whinnied and said into his mind, Did she not say the same of Súláríl? She rides him confidently now.
Legolas sprang onto her back. After a moment's hesitation, Elizabette patted Súláríl and followed suit. She sat sidesaddle, for she was wearing a dress of a blue color that matched that of her cloak. She found it strange to be sitting so far back on the horse.
"You can hold onto my waist," Legolas said. Elizabette slipped an arm around his waist.
Silrocca moved effortlessly into a trot. Elizabette could feel the power in her hindquarters. She found the trot exceptionally bouncy in the unusual position.
"Legolas! Slow down!" she called to him. He grinned over his shoulder.
"Frightened?" he called. Silrocca jumped into a full- speed gallop.
Elizabette's grip tightened on his waist. "Legolas! Slow down!" Her voice was lost on the wind.
She felt herself begin to slip. The gallop was unseating; each stride she slipped farther back.
She thought that she would slip right off of Silrocca's back when Legolas put his hand back and caught hers. He pulled her forward again. Silrocca eased down into a rolling canter then to a walk. Elizabette tried to catch her breath.
Legolas looked over his shoulder at her frightened face. "It is hard to sit in the back, is it not?" he asked.
"I thought I was going to fall."
Legolas grinned. "You asked Súláríl to canter when I was on him," he said.
Elizabette raised her eyebrows. "You had less trouble," she responded, half teasingly. "You are a better rider than I."
Silrocca turned to face the elves who were beginning to catch up. Elizabette loosened her grip on Legolas' waist and pushed her hair out of her face. Silrocca stepped forward and she held on tightly again.
Legolas half turned. "Do you not trust me?" he asked.
Elizabette glanced into his eyes. He was not teasing. "Not on a horse," she replied.
Legolas' smile faded. "I did not mean to frighten you, Elizabette," he apologized.
"It is all right," she answered. "I guess."
The other elves began to approach. "Sometimes you two act like elflings," Duinral called to them. Elizabette smiled slightly.
---
That night Elizabette carefully unwrapped the bandage on her arm. She was dismayed to find that though it did not bleed, the cut was just as sharp and fresh as it had been the day before.
Anarel again applied the athelas water and wrapped the arm but Elizabette felt that it was in vain. She knew that there was some poison in the wound that would not allow it to heal.
She sat alone on the edge of the fire, much as she had just before the orcs came. Legolas joined her after speaking with the others for a time.
"Elizabette?" he asked softly. "Is anything the matter?"
Elizabette looked up at her friend. "No," she replied untruthfully.
Legolas could see that she did not mean it. "You can tell me," he said.
For an answer she stood and took his hand, leading him away from the fire and the others. They went just far enough that they could not see the other elves.
She looked up at him and he saw that her eyes, which he had looked upon in times of both joy and fear, were restless.
"Legolas," she said in answer to his question, "I feel that there is some poison in the cut on my arm that prevents it from healing. I cannot see why else it would not heal. The athelas should have cured it but it did not and that I also fail to see."
Legolas did not reply for a moment. When he did, he spoke softly so that the keen ears of the others might not hear.
"That is what I believed," he said. "I wondered why it was that you seemed not to care." He paused for a second and did not look at her. "I feel that you have always concealed your emotions. For what purpose I know not; nor do I know whether you were taught to do so or do so instinctively. I suspect the cause, though I do not know for certain." He glanced at her suddenly, and the glance was keen and sharp. "However, I deem that this could harm you; for if you hide something that is too large, it could break your strength."
Elizabette leaned back against a tree. "Maybe you know me better than anyone," she said, "except perhaps for Elrond, who has learned much through his farsight." She looked at him. "You are correct in saying that I have concealed my emotions, though this is through no device of my own." She sighed. "At the orphanage, no one liked me, for I was different. I hid my emotions from them, for if I had not they could have found ways to pain me. Perhaps it has become habit."
Legolas glanced at her bandaged arm. "What will you do then?" he asked.
Elizabette shook her head. "I know not," she replied. "Perhaps I will find a way of healing it."
She shivered suddenly for she had felt that something warm behind her was missing. Legolas reached for her hand. "Are you all right?" he asked, worried.
Elizabette glanced over her shoulder. "I am fine," she replied.
Legolas kissed her gently. "We should go back," he said.
Elizabette glanced around swiftly as they started back. When they reached the edge of the clearing where they had set up the camp, they stopped in surprise.
The clearing was empty.
There was little light because of the dense foliage, but Elizabette could easily see that there was nothing there.
She glanced at Legolas. His eyes searched the clearing. "Did we come the wrong way?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No. Look." He led her to the center of the space. Kneeling down, Elizabette saw the ashes from the fire. She could still feel the heat- the fire had not been out long.
Elizabette glanced around frantically. "Where has everyone gone? Where is Súláríl?"
Legolas did not reply. He was searching the perimeter of the space. Elizabette walked over to where Súláríl had stood when they had left. The space was empty.
Súláríl? she shouted in her thoughts. She waited for a reply. There was none. Frightened, she reached out with her mind for his. She shouted again, Súláríl!
After a long agonizing moment, Súláríl said, Elizabette?
Where are you?
I do not know. When you and Legolas walked away into the forest, the others continued to sit by the fire. Suddenly, we were plunged into darkness, and we are now somewhere far away.
Are you still in Mirkwood?
Yes.
Is everyone there? Silrocca? The packs?
Yes.
What- A hand descended on her shoulder. She suppressed a scream with difficulty and whirled around.
"Quiet. It's me," Legolas whispered. He glanced quickly around over his shoulder. "We are being watched."
Elizabette also glanced around. "I see nothing," she whispered back. She frowned. "How could they all have disappeared? Súláríl says that they are still in Mirkwood."
Legolas looked considerably relieved. "We will be able to find them, in that case," he said. "But we must first escape from here."
Suddenly Elizabette sensed rather than saw a movement on the far edge of the clearing. She did not need Legolas' hiss to know that danger was present.
"Spiders."
-
muahaha... cliffie. Not a particularly effective one though, as the next part is already posted:)