The Undecided of Earendil
By- Larien
Chapter 24
madrone- Gandalf is a good person to set thinsg right. In actuallity, however, it was going to be Aragorn, but I decided that with him being so busy, Gandalf would be more suited for the job. Anyway, I'm glad you liked the chapter ('cause I didn't) and yes. Happy ending dance till the end!
Copperfang- Ooh! I'll join your mob of 200! Hold on a minute while I scrape my pockets for that dollar! lol. Yes, I realize I forgot Legolas in the last chapter, well didn't actually forget but decided that it was more important to focus on Nenuial and Aradhel for a while. Also, I realized that poor Legolas had very few interesting things going on his life, now with the wedding to plan and all. But don't worry! He's in this chapter! So thanks for the review, and I agree. The city of Nenuial is slightly shabby, isn't it? Sorry Tolkien, it had to be done mate!
Elvnchic9- Legolas and Caniel can't be together because Legolas is getting married! I'm kidding, I'm kidding! You can put away that chainsaw now! Lol. I guess we'll see what happens in this chapther, aye? Thanks for the review as always!
Loony Kay- Huh, I hadn't thought of the last chapter as sad until you said so. I guess it was kind of a sad chapter, wasn't it? I guess I was just so worried about it being a lousy chapter I missed that emotion. Anyway, the reason behind the treament of the soliders will be explained later. So thanks for the review!
Kim- Hey, I remember you! Good to hear from you! I'm glad your still reading the story (And still liking it, lol!) and I'm even more glad you reviewed. It means a lot to hear from you and I hope to again hear from you! If ever you have any ideas or comments (or just decide not to be slack, which is understandable. I'm the same way, lol) just drop a quick review. Like I said, I love hearing from you all.
Legolaslover77- Ooh, some good stuff happens when Elrond and Gandalf confront the butthead! You'll just have to read to find out! Lol. And I too feel bad for Caniel, and let me tell you, it's a pain in the butt to have to always remember, "Okay, she's weak. What can she do, what can't she do? What would happen if a person was dying?" So I try to make it subtle, yet evident that she's not like she used to be. Oh well, obviously it's working to some degree, so thanks for the review and I hope this chapter proves more interesting then the last!
A/N- Huh. Well I'm glad to see that not all of you were too devastated by the last chapter, I know I was. But I'm much more excited for this chapter and I hope it makes up for the crappy last one. Anyway, thanks for all the positive reviews, they really do make this all worthwhile. So please continue and enjoy! Le hannon!
P.S. This is a really, really, ridiculously long chapter, so I'm sorry. I just got going and couldn't stop so I hope it doesn't lose you all half way through. Maybe it will make up for the crappy last chapter. Anyway, just thought I'd forewarn you all!
It was training camp for the warriors of the city. A large field strung with tents in perfect rows, each identical white sphere's with only a few still lit by the candles. It was night and most of the soldiers had retired, save for the watch posts at either end, mounted high in their tower. Had they been at all ambitious, they might have abandoned their towers to check on one particular tent, which had now accumulated quite a number of people in it. But their lazy bodies and arrogant minds told them it was all a big to do about nothing. For that tent was often bustling with hordes of men, being ushered in and out rather quickly for it belonged to the only female in ranks. How she had come to be a warrior was a crazy story to begin with; one of their lesser known captains had run across her in a bar and had offered her a decent wage should she nurse the wounded in their camp. But before long, as their men were running short, she was lined with them in the front ranks and became as well skilled as any of them. But a woman she remained and a camp full of men still knocked on her tent every night.
But what the foolish tower men did not know was that the men coming and going were not visiting her for pleasure at all. In fact, she had never entertained so much as a flea while in the training grounds. Instead, the nights were full of strategies and plans of the first mutiny to ever occur inside the ranks of an army. The commander of the soldiers, Commander Hithoer, was the largest, most unforgiving captain the army had ever endured. Not so much as the trace of smile flittered across his chiseled face, which, aside from the rude smirks that occasionally crossed it, remained blank while issuing orders. The orders themselves reflected well his brutal nature, for often they consisted of raiding cities and kidnapping half-breeds. Sometimes, when he was in a particularly good mood, the city would be burned to the ground and all the citizens imprisoned. Never was it explained to the soldiers as to why they were doing such feats, nor did they dare ask in fear of being burned at the stake (the common way of imprisonment for traitors of their city).
So did the killings and raids progress under Hithoer's direction, but not for long. Caniel watched as the ranks of men and the one woman invaded the commander's tent that night, and with a muffled cry he was slit at the throat. The party did not stay to celebrate by the fires, for their gathering aroused the many faithful soldiers who started at them with a flurry of arrows and swords. But the party lead by Sírdhem was strong and with much ease slipped out of the grounds and lost themselves under the shade of trees. They left many dead behind them, and Caniel was suddenly caught in a whirlwind of haze as the dream shifted. Once again gray clouds seemed to engulf her as she was fast-forwarded a couple of years.
Now there were no tents, no mutinies. Just a man standing in his garden, puzzling over a piece of parchment. He wore elegant gowns of gold and black, reminding Caniel of Aradhel. And more so, his face resembled that of Aradhel's with his pointed nose and curly, long black hair. For a moment, Caniel thought it to be Aradhel's father, but a distinct difference stood out. His eyes were a piercing blue and the surroundings, Nenuial, were much younger then they should be. The trees which she was used to being tall and full, where just treelings, nothing more then tall twigs stuck in the ground, swaying dangerously in the wind. No, this was not his father but grandfather, King Belegorn. Caniel's attention was soon turned from the engrossed king to the muffled yelps from men behind her. Turning, she saw the guards, which had been stationed at the gate's entrance, lying motionless on the ground, buried in their pools of blood. And standing between them was a slender, but muscular woman.
It was without a doubt Sírdhem who stood there so tall and strong. The only feature that gave it away, though, was the huge blue eyes. Caniel was surprised to see them not empty, but alive and fierce. Much like the lusting she saw in the eyes of an orc, right as he was about to shove a dagger into your gut. Two other men, armed and ready were standing opposite the guards, no doubt being the killers themselves. But instead of advancing on the king as Sírdhem was now doing, they stood back and watched with bemused smiles, as if this was a long awaited celebration.
Caniel watched motionless as the girl, who had pulled out a glimmering dagger walked up behind the king, who was too engrossed to have noticed that his life was now in severe danger. For a brief moment, Sírdhem hesitated, breathing quick as she gazed at the man who once called her his own. The boy who had danced with her until he was the only one remaining. The young man who had vowed to marry her and make her a powerful queen with him as her king. The young man who released her from the prison from whence his father had placed her. Belegorn, the man Sírdhem both loved and hated with such a passion that she knew no other cure for the sickness then to rid herself of him. Caniel watched with stunned silence, feeling a scared yell boiling within her, yet never escaping. Her hands were clenched at her sides and her breathing quickened when Sírdhem took another step forward. Then before she could even take another breath, the dagger had been plunged into the back of the king.
Caniel felt herself gasp and her hand raised to her mouth, but she could not avert her eyes from the man who seemed to freeze where he stood, the only thing out of place being the dagger sticking from his back and the parchment that had slipped from his grasp. Then Sírdhem pulled it out, nonchalantly almost, and he turned slowly to face her, his eyes wide with surprise and tear swimming down her cheek.
He whispered her name, taking a brief second to glance at the bloody dagger in her hand. She only nodded sadly, holding a hand up to his cheek where she gazed into the once warm eyes that had since boyhood become cold and emotionless. Then, with a swift turn of heel, Sírdhem strode away from the man who fell with a thud to the ground, life no longer residing within him. As Caniel watched the trio leave, she felt the cold gray clouds return. But this time she was not launched into another dream of Sírdhem. In fact, the vision quit altogether, awakening her suddenly in the dead of night. Her room was pitch black and nothing was out of place, but Caniel felt as though she had been gutted. As she trembled, pulling the covers closer around her and settling back onto her pillow, she tried to close her eyes, but it was difficult. After many moments of struggling, she allowed herself to fall back to sleep. This time she dreamt of Valinor, of her parents who appeared as nothing more then a blurred shadow, and of Legolas' wedding, which had become a nightly routine along with the trips from Valinor. When she awoke the next morning, her head ached so badly, she couldn't find the strength to stand for many minutes, in which time she starred at the ceiling and listened to the hustle of Aragorn in the room adjacent hers.
All too soon, though, she was up and moving, dressing herself in royal garments of red and brown which darkened her features and gave her a very stern appearance. Just as she was tying the dress up, a small knock was issued from the door and she answered it with a smile. A woman who stood rather lean and proud, dressed in a simple apron and white jumper, greeted her.
"Yes?" Caniel asked.
"Caniel is it?" The woman asked; her voice was warm and deep. Caniel nodded. "Pleasure to meet you, my name is Alpheth and I've come to help you ready for the meetings today."
"Oh you really don't have to!" Caniel said.
"But I must. I've been assigned to you as a personal maid. After all being an ambassador takes a lot of your time and it's convenient to have an extra set of hands sometimes." Noticing the wary look on Caniel's face she added, "My lady, do not feel guilty. This is my job and it's what I get paid to do."
"All right then. Come in." Caniel gestured inwards, still feeling it unnecessary to have extra pampering.
After seeing the outfit, Alpheth volunteered to do Caniel's hair, which she tied back in an exquisite bun and decorated with many fine jewels. When she had finished that, Caniel left her to clean the room while she caught up with Aradhel who lead her to the one of the large council rooms on the second floor. As the walked, Aradhel escorting her, they talked quietly among themselves, nodding to passing servants.
"Are you nervous?" He asked.
"No."
"I didn't think so." Aradhel laughed quietly. "You never appear nervous."
"That is a far cry from the truth though."
Aradhel nodded. "Just be patient with the men in there. There are many characters, each as bold as the next. So just hear them all out, even though some tend to be rather rash."
Caniel smirked, thinking that after dealing with Thranduil any man would be easy to hear out. As they entered the room, many of the chairs, twelve at least, were already full of men and woman in fine dress robes. Most wore dark blues and black, while an occasional woman would add some color just to brighten up the rather dull state. Many stood and introduced themselves to Caniel as Aradhel lead her around the table to her chair. She met two men who looked like as though emotion was not a word in their vocabulary. All in black and with the sternest looks Caniel had ever seen, they nodded curtly as they introduced themselves as city spies. Another man who's thin face seemed to pull back as though a blast of wind was constantly on it, she discovered, was an ambassador from Annúminas and a woman who sat pudgy and stout on her chair was also a foreign ambassador. Seated next to Caniel on one side was an old man, tall and with skin as wrinkled as parchment, but with the most friendly complexion imaginable. It was as if a boy was gazing out at you from those squinted eyes and his gray robes contrasted his white hair, which stood up all over the place. And on the other side of her was the other woman, who looked as though dirt had never so much as flown within a couple of feet of her.
Her quills and parchment were aligned perfectly and her hair tied back into a tight bun, which smoothed the sour complexion of her etched face. Her robes were of slender dark blue with a giant, polished brooch of turquoise embedded on the front. With her pursed lips and slanted eyes, she gave off the appearance of tasting something horribly sour. And when Caniel sat, she did nothing more then fake a smile which looked as though she may have been choking on whatever sour thing she had been eating.
When Aradhel noticed everyone had arrived and had seated himself in the end chair, to his left a bald man with robes of fur sitting intently, and the meeting began. It started out rather dull, the man in fur reciting times and old news of which unenthusiastic remarks were tossed around briefly. And then the talk on the orcs started and everyone seemed to sit up straighter and look more alive. Feeling a bit awkward, Caniel said nothing as Aradhel threw out problems and suggestions, each which were tossed about by the other council members.
"I think we should advance our armies outside of the wall." The old man behind Caniel was arguing; they had started debating over what to do with the lesser numbers of soldiers.
"We don't have enough in number to advance." The lady on the opposite side of Caniel said. Her voice was high and thin, as though it pained her to speak.
"But posting them on the wall will only bring the orcs closer to our city!" The pudgy lady said, chewing on a finger.
"What think you Aradhel?" The man with the tight face asked.
The king looked around expectantly, raising his eyebrow in mock amusement. "I believe that the men should stay stationed where they are. Let the elves in the eastern parts fight out in the wild. Why should we advance to where they are when they seem to have things under control?"
"If they had things under control, the orcs wouldn't keep breaching our eastern and northern walls!" The old man said with a pointed finger. "And if the elves are generous enough to fight, then we should at least have the courtesy to fight along with them!"
"Outrageous!" The woman next to Caniel shrieked. It reminded her vaguely of a bird who had just seen a fox prowling after it. She hid a smile.
"Generous?" Aradhel in a voice chilled with sarcasm. "The elves are so reluctant to help that they station themselves so far away that their assistance is of no assistance at all! They are generous enough to wait out a report before helping our men in the core of the problem and letting mass numbers of soldiers get wounded or killed every day! They are generous enough to not so much as spare a dagger to protect our city when our people are cornered with no escape. Yes, they are generous aren't they?"
This statement was greeted by haunting silence during which some members nodded in agreement, whereas others look sullen.
"But my lord," The pudgy lady broke the silence with her low voice. "If we do nothing but sit, our soldiers will eventually run out and we will have no guard anyway!"
"And what will advancing accomplish but killing off the remainder quicker?" The first stern looking man spoke, his voice hollow and echoing off the walls.
"Perhaps we can send out spies? To see why it is the orcs keep getting past the elves?" The old man said timidly.
"Then we would be playing the same game the elves are playing with us." The tight face woman dabbed her quill on her parchment, not glancing up. "We should start a draft and see to it that our wall remained well guarded until those elves make up their mind and send reinforcements."
"Keep in mind that half the men of the city are already in the military." The other stern man said.
"Well then we draft the boys…"
"No!" Caniel interrupted the lady, and all eyes turned to her. Aradhel smiled sardonically.
"Ah yes. Ambassador. What do you think of the situation?"
Caniel looked nervously from one person to the next, not realizing the corner she had backed herself into.
Taking a deep breath she said firmly, "I do not think sending children to defend the wall will accomplish anything. For as we've seen; if men cannot hold the wall, what makes us think children will be of any use, except to perhaps delay the coming of the orcs. But they will come, slaughtering the boys of the city as they do so. So no. I do not think a draft of young boys will be of any use, nor is it moral."
"The orcs have slaughtered our men. This is war." The bald man beside Aradhel spoke up, stroking the collar of his robes. "There is a time when morals must be set aside for what is right."
"There is no such thing," Caniel said in a voice so cold that even the lady next to her glance up. "And should a day like that come, members of the council, the innocent will be slaughtered with the rest of us."
Aradhel lost his cocky grin and the old man beside her nodded grimly in agreement. Her words seemed to have struck a chord within everyone and negotiations did not continue on for long afterward, everyone being to haunted by the words to say much else. So was the meeting adjured until the next morning, and Caniel hurried from it to find Aragorn and relay all that had been said.
Legolas fired another arrow into the target, looking utterly bored and nonchalant as arrow after arrow hit the target, never missing a beat or bulls eye. His father was sitting under a tree to his left on a stone bench with a table full of parchment and quills. So far all afternoon had been spent planning the wedding, which in turn became Thranduil deciding things while Legolas issued rude remarks and was never too quick to help. In fact, the actual groom had planned nothing as he refused to put in his thoughts on any matter, unless of course, his input was, "I am not marrying her," and "No, that will clash with Caniel's eyes." All to which his father would sigh exasperated and threaten him in some new way.
Either way, the threats had all become worn and old news, the only real worrisome one being the threat of imprisonment should Legolas choose not to partake in the wedding. But nothing said he had to plan it. So the last two afternoons had been spent him firing arrows or twirling blades while his father did all the work, mumbling continuously under his breath about his good-for-nothing son. This particular afternoon, however, was going to take a drastic change in events. For just as Thranduil had asked for the third time where Legolas wanted the wedding held, to which the elf replied "In a hole," a worker for Thranduil came running up to the king, his robs billowing behind him.
"My lord Thranduil!" He said, skidding to a stop and nodding a courteous hello to Legolas. "You have visitors."
"Who is it? Local folk?" Thranduil glanced up from his parchment stacks.
"Oh no. It's the wizard, Gandalf, and the Lord of Imladris."
"You don't say," Thranduil huffed looking back down, his enthusiasm dropping noticeably. "Well send them in, send them in. But tell them I'm busy and they should keep their visit short."
"Yes my lord."
In a few moments time, during which Legolas had retrieved his arrows with renewed vigor and a smile, the worker had brought the wizard clad in gray traveling clothes and Elrond, who marched up to Thranduil in a flourish of maroon and gold robes.
"My lord Thranduil we've come to speak with you on very important manners." Elrond said, skipping any sort of friendly introduction and getting right to the point. Gandalf merely stood to the side; smiling to Legolas who glanced at the direction they had come, almost hoping to see Caniel.
"Hello to you too, my friend." Thranduil said dryly, looking up and dipping his quill in more ink. "And what is this important business that has you traveling two days in pursuit of me?"
"It concerns Caniel."
"She is well?"
"No." Elrond said roughly, stopping Legolas from firing the next arrow. His attention was fully on Elrond now.
"No? What has happened?" Thranduil asked, not much real concern in his voice.
"She is dying, Thranduil." Elrond said sternly and he watched as Legolas nearly dropped the arrow, which had been held to his bow.
"Why? Where is she?" Legolas asked before his father could draw his breath to reply.
"She is currently working in Nenuial as ambassador of Rivendell as she was assigned." Gandalf said quietly.
"I must go to her!" Legolas said worriedly, dropping his bow and taking a few steps forward.
"You must stay here, Legolas." Thranduil barked, stopping Legolas in his tracks.
"I told you of my vision and you said it was nothing more then a dream!" Legolas stated, pointing accusingly in Thranduil's face. "I will not let it be fulfilled!"
"You foresaw this?" Gandalf asked, looking surprised.
Legolas shrugged. "In a dream I saw her dead, and Aradhel was the only one there to mourn her passing."
"Curious…" Gandalf mused, leaning back against a tall pillar.
"Nothing more then a dream!" Thanduil laughed, throwing his hands in the air dismissively. "She will be fine now that you know of it, surely?"
"No she will not be fine." Elrond glared at the king. "For there is nothing we can do to help her. She has been getting progressively worse, I am told, and will not last more then a couple of weeks."
"You've been told?" Thranduil asked skeptically. "From whom?"
"Aragorn."
"But you have not seen her?"
"She would not come to Rivendell should I ask her." Elrond said sadly.
"So what exactly is it that has hurt her so? An orc? Has she chosen human?" Thranduil asked, though he figured he knew the answer. Knowing it though would not allow himself to admit it any sooner.
"She dies because of her love." Legolas said loudly, throwing up his hands and pacing in a circle.
Elrond nodded. "Do you understand Thranduil? The only way to save her now is to allow Legolas to go to her."
"I will do no such thing!" Thranduil barked.
Elrond looked utterly outraged. "You will kill her then!"
"She is not dying!" Thranduil laughed. "It is all for show! You are all blind. She will pretend to be ill when in fact she wants nothing more then to lust after Legolas. Who, mind you, has a wedding in two days time. He needs to be here."
"You ignorant fool!" Legolas barked, storming to his father and slamming the parchment off the table. "Caniel is dying and you are blinding yourself to it simply for your own pride! And now I see the only pride you have is in your ability to be arrogant. Caniel continues to be an ambassador to get you information, even though she knows her very life is waning before her eyes. Can you now take some pity on her and allow me to go to her?"
"You will watch what you spew, Legolas, or you'll find yourself carving new words behind a prison cell." Thranduil said between clenched teeth, standing to tower over his son. "And you will do well to hold your tongue for my decision will not change until I have proof."
"Proof?" Elrond practically shrieked. "You will have your proof when you are invited to her funeral! Would you only but listen to yourself? You are being completely irrational! Why are you so afraid of loosing your son? He would but return to you as soon as he sees Caniel well!"
"I would not!" Legolas growled. "I would never return to a murderer."
"That's it!" Thranduil bellowed, grabbing Legolas' shoulder. "Since you're so intent on keeping away from a murder, you can hide forever in your cell while that worthless half-blood fades away into-"
"THRANDUIL!" A voice as loud as a crack of thunder shuddered the ground. The sky had darkened considerably and every living creature had silenced, but the wind hollowed loud and strong as if a storm was brewing. "Let Legolas go or I will see to it that you find eternal damnation with every breath you take and every half-blood you set eyes upon!"
Gandalf had risen to what seemed like a towering height above them all and his voice rocked the very ground they stood upon as he spewed words in the black speech which pained the ears of all the elves standing there. Thranduil looked utterly terrified as if a very demon itself was chewing at his mind and he stumbled back into his seat. Legolas too looked nervous, but not half as scared as the king who was cowering in his seat. Elrond, who had covered his ears, watched with a stern face as Gandalf continued to wrack fear within the king, who eventually started to yell.
"Stop it! Just make it stop! All right! He can go! All right!" He screamed, tears streaming his face. Gandalf's menace stopped immediately, the sky lightening again and the birds started chirping whence the wind disappeared.
"Good." Gandalf said in his old hoarse voice.
Thranduil didn't look at any of them, only down at his papers, which were now splattered with tears. He had placed his face in his trembling hands and Legolas wondered what Gandalf had done to cause the king such anguish.
But Gandalf, after receiving a nod from Elrond, took a few steps forward and placed a hand on Thranduil's head and soon, after some soft mumbled words from the wizard, Thranduil stopped trembling, laying his head on the table and falling into what appeared to be a very strong sleep. Legolas watched in stunned amazement.
"Will he be all right?" He asked.
Gandalf nodded. "Yes, he will not remember any of the malice when he awakens."
"What did you do to him?"
"Questions best be saved for later I think." Gandalf nodded, then smiled sadly. "You have the free to go Legolas."
"I do…" Legolas suddenly realized what this meant. He would be seeing Caniel again!
"Here is a map of how to get to Nenuial." Elrond remarked, placing the parchment in Legolas' hands. He studied it briefly before nodding. Elrond continued, "I have already sent a letter to Aragorn informing him of your coming, so he will be awaiting your arrival."
"Thank you." Legolas said quickly, before picking up his bow and starting back to his dwelling. As a second thought he turned around once more. "She is still alive?"
"Yes." Gandalf nodded. "Now quickly, Legolas. It is a three-day ride and Caniel needs you. Make haste!"
The entire Orbelo team was gathered at a local bar whereon they were celebrating yet another victory. Caniel had been invited to join them, as did Aragorn who sat drinking his mug full of ale quietly. The second morning of council meetings had been positively dry as nothing more was decided, and Caniel had been looking forward to the Orbelo game all afternoon. After an intense game, the Nenuial team once again claimed another victory by a large margin and had decided to spend the night drinking and cheering in the smoke reddened pub.
The tables and chairs were all musty looking, as if they had been there for years before, enduring the constant spill of ales and the tap of feet as random dances often broke out thanks to the small band of players in the corner. They consisted of a guitarist who looked as though he was well over fed for his age, and a drummer who banged his chipped hands on anything that would make noise. There was also an out of tune piano that had a maiden in bursting red rags pounding on it and a wild accordion played by man who looked ancient. As Caniel sipped her drink slowly, allowing the stinging contents to slide down her throat, the master of the team who was still in his uniform of black and bright blue robes, sidled up next to her and ordered another drink. His baldhead reflected the many dark candles hanging from the high ceiling where cob webs could be seen hanging in great masses and birds filtered in and out of the night air. Hirvegil smiled and tossed the bartender a coin before turning to Caniel and offering up a cheer.
"To the new ambassador!" He yelled and the other inhabitants of the bar raised their glasses. "And best damn woman to play Orbelo yet!" (He was referring to a practice earlier on in the week where the team had trained her in each of the positions, all which she took to rather quickly. Even the team had a hard time passing orbs past her when she was guard and the masters battle took over an hour as the two were equally skilled with a staff.)
Roars of laughter and agreement filled the room and mugs were all emptied in swift chugs. As the night progressed, Caniel thoroughly enjoying herself as all of the players took turns visiting her at the bar counter, so did the drinks and dancing progress. Glad she had dressed in the traditional bodice and chemise, Caniel clapped along as some bar maidens danced on the tables to a rehearsed dance, getting many coins tossed their way. Even Aragorn applauded when they were done and ordered himself another drink, careful to keep an eye on Caniel who he feared for in this rough place. But he needn't worry, for the team was all friendly and the other bar players were all too drunk to do any real harm.
As a new song started, an upbeat tune which had many people clapping and stomping their feet, Oerlin the raider with shaggy dark hair tied back into a bandanna giving him the appearance of a pirate, called Caniel over and soon had her on a long table with him. His sly smile as he tapped cleverly around Caniel made her laugh and she mimicked his footing, and soon they were both dancing gaily across the table. The other teammates had gathered around to watch, laughing and clapping while Caniel twirled and dipped with the pirate, who was a very fine dancer with his fancy footwork and sly movements around her. When the song ended and more cheers were offered, Caniel glanced over to Aragorn who was talking with Hirvegil, and smoking his pipe casually. Feeling a bit weak, Caniel was about to leave the dance when another song started. So downing a quick mug of ale, Caniel was soon flung into another dance, but this time with the guard, Gilorn. His dance was more spontaneous, as he lacked the smooth moves of Oerlin, but his handsome olive skin and ponytail black hair made it that much more fun.
As Caniel was just about ask for some water, she felt her knees buckle and she stumbled forward and onto the table. Some people laughed, thinking she had merely tripped, while some, like Aragorn, rushed immediately to her side.
"I'm fine, really." She said quietly, holding her head that was spinning and sliding off the table with the ranger's help. "I just need water."
The flexible Tather was quick to bring her the drink and she settled on a bench with Aragorn, as the other team members gathered around. Music continued on in the background, for the drunken bar men, and Caniel felt as though she might puke up every organ inside of her.
"She doesn't look too well." She heard someone say. Perhaps it was Díorn's deep voice? Caniel could vaguely make out the fuzzy shapes of figures looming before her, and her mind swam with uncertainty. She had become so confused in fact, that she never recalled dropping her glass or falling to one side.
"I'll get her back." Someone else said. A familiar warm voice that she should know. But as she felt herself lifted from wherever she had been…where was she? She could still hear music. But why was there music? As her head began to settle into complete blackness, so too did her questions. The last thing she could remember was the feeling of being set down again and a voice saying, "Hold on, Caniel. He will be here. Just hold on…"
Aragorn was up early the next morning and made straight away to check on Caniel, who he had let rest the night in her bed. As he entered, he was relieved to see that she had shifted in her position and her breathing was deep. Her face, though, was worn and pale and placing a hand on her forehead, he wasn't surprised to find it was rather cold. Wrapping the blankets around her, he left her to sleep and walked down to where Aradhel would have normally met her to lead her to the council. As he was a bit early, Aragorn waited around casually admiring the paintings on the walls and nodding hello to some of the members of the council as they passed.
Then a man passed down the hall, and out of the corner of his eye Aragorn bore the familiar silhouette of a rather rugged man who walked around the corner. Turning quickly, he scanned for the man but could not see him. Trotting after him, Aragorn glanced down the corridor of which he had disappeared and was dismayed to see only the shaggy brown head of the man disappear inside of a door, which shut behind him.
"Aragorn!"
Aragorn turned around to see Aradhel approaching him in blinding robes of orange. Leaving the mysterious man and moving forward to greet the king, he bowed slightly and sighed.
"Where is Caniel?"
"She is ill." Aragorn said. Aradhel cocked an eyebrow at him.
"Ill? Or had one too many cups to drink I wonder?"
"I've decided to let her sleep." Aragorn said, choosing to ignore the remark.
"Oh have you?" Aradhel said with a forced smile. "Well I'm afraid that just can't be done. See, we need her to hear out the debate, and if she isn't there, we can't make a decision."
"She is in no state to be at a council meeting, Aradhel." Aragorn said grimly. "I've already told you that."
"Nonsense! She simply drank too much last night, as I knew she would. Our drinks are quite a bit stronger then that of the elves."
"There is more to it that you would not understand." Aragorn said impatiently.
"Try me."
Eyeing him angrily, but seeing no easy way out of this, Aragorn tried to explain with as little information as he could. "Fine. Caniel has not been well for a while. And in the elvish community she is considered to be dying for what she is sick with is something only elves can obtain."
"A broken heart." Aradhel said quietly. "Yes I have heard of it."
"Then you understand why she cannot come to the meeting?"
"No."
Aragorn looked taken aback. "What?"
"She's come to all the others thus far."
"She has been getting progressively worse, Aradhel!"
"Then why is she here if she cannot be of use?" Aradhel asked smugly. "I have not heard hide or hair about such a matter from her. If she isn't able to go on then I will hear it from her and no one else."
Aragorn was about a second away from pulling out his dagger and slicing the throat of the king. But instead he clenched his fists and glared at him.
"If you would only give her a few days rest, then she will be well again."
"What makes you say that?"
"Legolas is coming."
Aradhel looked as though he had been slapped. His eyes widened and he seemed to stumble for words. Then after a moment he seemed to regain his composure and he straightened his robes as he spoke coolly.
"I'm afraid that isn't possible."
"What?" Aragorn asked sharply.
"You must understand, Aragorn, he is an elf. This simply will not do in a city that does not approve of the elves. He will be exiled the minute he tries to enter!"
"But you can allow him in. You're king."
"Well yes. But I myself am not sure I want a petty elf wandering my palace…"
"Then you condemn Caniel to death!" Aragorn yelled.
"There is happiness elsewhere Aragorn. Legolas will simply have to accept that Caniel is not his property and let her move on." Aradhel smiled slyly, looking to the ceiling. "My how time does fly. I do hope she is ready soon."
Aragorn was grinding his teeth so hard now that they felt raw for the next few days. As the blood pulsated through him and his veins began to bulge in his neck, he had to use everything to force a calm voice when he said,
"You will allow Legolas in or I take Caniel and news of your betrayal back with me to Rivendell right now."
Aradhel didn't seem to have heard this and fiddled with some tassels on his robe. "The only betrayal is of the elves sending one of their own into my city. He will not last the day, though, so no matter…"
Aragorn lost it with this last remark and had pulled out his dagger and was pinning Aradhel against the wall before the king could finish straightening the tassel. Breathing hard, Aragorn pressed the blade against the king's throat.
"You will allow Legolas safe passage through your city. And you will allow Caniel to rest until he comes." Aragorn said firmly, through clenched teeth.
Aradhel held his hands in mock defeat, and smiled sinisterly. "You forget, Aragorn, who it is you threaten. I am king."
"I'm aware." Aragorn said. "But you won't be should you not comply with what I request."
"You will be hunted by hundreds of my warriors." Aradhel said. "You cannot fight an entire army."
"Watch me."
"Aragorn? Aradhel?"
Aragorn released the king with a rough shove as Caniel approached, having changed into silver robes and looking worse for ware.
"What's going on?" She asked, sidling up next to Aragorn and eyeing them both curiously.
"Negotiating." Aragorn said roughly, glaring at Aradhel.
"I'm sorry I overslept." Caniel apologized. "I hope I'm not too late?"
"Not at all. Come along my lady." Aradhel offered her his arm and began leading her back to the meeting. But not before Aragorn tilted the dagger in the light so that it reflected in the kings face, reminding him of the gruesome fate that awaited him if he did not allow the elf into the city.