"…And I've tasted, the bitter tragedy
of lives wasted
And men who glimpsed the darkness inside, but never faced it
And it's a shame that most of you are following sheep
Wallowing deeper than the darkness, you're falling asleep
You won't believe the things I've seen
Far beyond your wildest dreams
I've seen chaos and order reign supreme
I've seen the beauty of the universe
so peaceful and serene
in seconds turn to violence and screams
I've seen and experienced things
that'll push the average to the edge and swan dive to death…"
Spooks Things I've seen.
Chapter Twenty: Welcome
It was night. Though it was somewhat hard to tell due to the overbearing coverage of branches and leaves that blanketed the skyline over Eryn Lasgalen. We'd been travelling through the forest and around its borders for the past two and a half days now and finally we'd reached The Elvenking's Gate. The large carved double doors protruded from the cliff-face that was just across a sturdy looking bridge made up of wooden planks. Below the bridge, the water ran clear and swift. We crossed the span, the horse's hooves clicking against the hard surface, and carried on up the incline. The doors opened as we approached, without any word or sign from our party. My brows furrowed.
"I thought you had to do something to make them work?" I said to Legolas in my half-asleep state. "You know, like the doors in Moria." He shook his head slightly.
"Before yes." He replied. "But what is the point these days? What little enemies we have know better than to come into our city and everybody else is more than welcome." To me this was a new concept. Letting people just wonder in and out of your territory, doing as they pleased. It wasn't smart. But I wasn't about to bring this topic up now, not when I could barely keep my eyes open.
The light inside the narrow caves that led to the city had also changed since my last visit. Granted this had been over five hundred years previously. Before it had been tinged with red and cast eerie patterns on the dark grey stone, now it was just normal torchlight, nothing special.
"Which route do you want to take?" It was Nólad at Legolas' shoulder.
"We'll go around, best not to disturb any unwanted eyes." He nodded and returned to his position at Arod's flank. At a cross-junction we took a right and continued in the bleak tunnels, whereas, I knew if we'd continued straight on we'd have reached the entrance into the city. It was a good half-hour at a steady trot before we reached the exit near the palace. The pale moonlight filtered into the courtyard we were now in. From what my blurred vision relayed it was impeccably neat with a wide pebble path leading up to the main building that branched out on several occasions. We carried on up the path until we were metres away from the massive stone structure. I could just about make out lights shining down from the various balconies that jutted out above us on the smooth face.
I was vaguely aware that we'd stopped and that Legolas was helping me from Arod's back. I felt it was one of those times where I should protest but I was far too tired to do anything about it. Besides, the truth was that I wouldn't have been able to do it by myself. I felt myself being dragged off indoors whilst the horses were presumably being led to the stables. I thought of shouting after them some comment on how if they didn't treat Amroth well, they'd regret it, but only had the energy to stay upright. In any case, he didn't deserve it. The last things I could remember following that was the harsh glare of torches as we passed them by and the feel of the feather quilt as I collapsed onto it. And a soft voice whispering; "Creoso a'eska amin," as the door creaked shut.
A whistling penetrated my deep state of unconsciousness. It wasn't so much that it was unpleasant, just that the offender had a particularly shrill tone. After a minute or so it changed to a gentle 'dum de dum,' and I was quickly able to surmise that the offender was female, and was the owner of an especially un-Elvish voice. All of a sudden the room went from pleasantly dark to deathly bright as the sound of a curtain being drawn joined the song on my hit list for the morning. As it was, I could now make out the pink of my eyelids and the feel of last night's drool encrusted on one cheek. It wasn't what I longed to wake up to, to put it nicely.
"Nnnghh…" The unintelligible noise exited my mouth. I rolled on to my stomach and attempted to push myself up onto my hands. After which I would track down the intruder of my peace and beat then to death with the nearest object, which happened to be the pillow directly underneath me. I grasped it between my stiff fingers and got up on my rather shaky legs.
"Ah! Lady Yuna! You're up." The cheery voice hit me like an arrow pin-pointed to my brain to give maximum damage.
"Huh…?" I managed, my lips seemed to be glued together. Looking back on it I hadn't been in this bad a state since I was drunk under the table by a rather frizzy dwarf, the name of which I couldn't quite grasp. "Who…" I coughed the phlegm out of my throat and tried again. "Who are you?"
"Gem Boffin, at your service." She replied with a slight curtsy. I rubbed my eyes, not quite believing what I was seeing.
"You're…you're a Hobbit?"
"Indeed I am, Lady Yuna. From Bywater to be precise. I do believe you've met my cousin, Merry Brandybuck." She paused, as she rearranged some flowers in a vase near the bed I'd decided to sit back down on before my legs gave way. "He told me ever so much about you." She continued almost absentmindedly. "How brave and lovely and caring you were." 'Maybe she's mistaken?' "And about those Ent friends of yours and how they made him so much taller than the others around, so jealous of him they were..."
"How…how is Merry?" I asked out of genuine curiosity.
"Oh, he's just hunky dory from the last time I saw him. But anyway." She carried on almost seamlessly. "Imagine my surprise when Master Legolas brought you in last night. I was practically thrilled to bits." Her hazel eyes shone as she spoke and she gave me a brief grin, which wasn't too different from the perpetual smile that seemed to grace her face.
Blinking a couple of times to clear the sleep from my eyes, I took Gem in. She was the normal size for a Halfling, about four foot one. Her hair was darkish brown and came down in ringlets, framing her pretty, heart-shaped face. She was dressed in normal hobbit attire, which seemed all too out of place with the rest of the décor in the room.
"But, how did you get here?" I asked in confusion. "Hobbits hate leaving the Shire."
"Most do, yes." She admitted. "But when Merry came home and told me of all his adventures, I knew that I just had to go out and see the world for myself."
"So…you just left?" I asked incredulously. She nodded as if it was something Hobbits did on a daily basis. A knock sounded at the door of the rather large room.
"Can I come in?" Said a voice, rather muffled due to the thick oak door.
"Of course!" Answered Gem, far too cheerfully for this time in the morning, I thought. The door slowly creaked open and in stepped Legolas rather apprehensively.
"You two getting on alright I see…?" He half-asked, unsure of the situation and presumably hoping Gem hadn't done exactly what she had.
"Oh, just fine." I answered not much caring any more. He looked visibly relieved and nodded.
"Breakfast is served whenever you want it, but I thought you'd appreciate a bath first." If I didn't have as much common sense as to know not to, I would have jumped up and down right then.
"It is much appreciated." I returned instead.
"This way, then." He said, heading to a small door that I hadn't noticed before. Not that that was very difficult. He pushed on the silver coloured handle and an abundance of steam escaped the adjacent room. I could smell rose oil in the haze as well as other things such as herbs. I stepped in and gazed at the large stone tub that was almost an extension of the floor itself. It was filled almost to the top with clean warm water, a sight that made my heart jump. Assorted around the edges of the tub were small vials, glass bottles and wooden instruments. The vials and glass bottles I assumed contained scented oils and such; I could pretty much guess what the rest was for.
There was about two minutes of silence before:
"Legolas…?"
"Hmm…" He answered, seeming preoccupied with matters in his head.
"…You planning on watching?" He looked up rather confused.
"…Oh! Right, sorry…" With that he left in rather a hurry, his ears turning slightly strawberry.
It was a good hour and a half before I emerged, smelling and feeling better than I had in a long while. Gem was by my side in an instant, bustling about me, throwing open cupboards, pulling out combs from somewhere on her person. It was far more attention then I was used to. She was speaking, I was vaguely aware of that, but my peaceful state mingled with her thick Shire accent, the words seemed to weld into one long stream of soothing noise. She pulled me over to a chair situated in front of a large mirror, sat me down, and began to ruthlessly work out the knots in my hair, commenting on the general length, state, and overall health of it. She reached a larger knot somewhere near the tips, and started to furiously work it our, I absentmindedly wondered how much of my hair would be left after her lengthy assault. My head was jerked back as she finished and I whipped round to stop her, finally coming to my senses.
"Hey, wait…what are you doing?" I looked at her confused, she mirrored me.
"Why…I'm just sorting out your hair, milady." I sighed.
"Oh…carry on, then." I couldn't be bothered to try and do anything, and the last thing I felt physically, mentally or spiritually able to do was root through the knots in my hair. So I decided to freeload the hospitality I was being shown.
When she had finished, and my hair was suitably restrained in a tight braid, she flung open the door to a cupboard, containing rows upon rows of neatly hung gowns. One dark eyebrow shot up as she removed a light fuchsia dress, trimmed with lace. Her hair bobbed around her face as she beamed.
"Now, this would look just lovely on you, don'cha think?" I stared at her in horror.
"No." I said with a note of finality. "Where are my old clothes, anyway?" Gem scrunched up her face.
"Oh, those. Well, you see, I sent them to be cleaned, then repaired." I could almost hear the unspoken 'then incinerated.' "They won't be back for a few days I'm afraid." Gem regarded me for a long minute. "You don't much like dresses and such, do you?"
"No."
"Ah, well, that's not a problem, we've got some nice, comfy tunics around here somewhere for you…" She trailed off, opening and closing random drawers until finally she retrieved two mossy green items of clothing and held them up triumphantly. She sidled over and handed them to me. "Oh, and also, might I suggest you wear a bodice on top of that as well?" I furrowed my brows.
"…why?"
"Oh, well, from what I've heard, you're one of those adventuring types. If you're going to be running around, I doubt you'd want those things bouncing around like crazy, now would we?" My mouth hung open.
"Ex-excuse me?" I asked, shocked.
"Well look at them, they're huge." She said, her voice tinged with innocence and cheerfulness as she retrieved a suede bodice of a light brown colour.
"I suppose…" I finished, barely above a whisper.
I regarded myself critically in the full-length mirror. Well, it was…different. A tight bodice was laced up at the front, hiding my chest (which Gem had gone to no ends to point out) to as much of a degree as it could. I didn't much like the green tunic and leggings, but I supposed they would have to do. For the time being, anyhow. I twisted the braid into the bun I was accustomed to, and headed for the door as Gem begun to bustle about, tidying the already spotless room.
The door opened with a faint creak, and as I stepped out into the hallway, I was greeted by two almost identical voices. I looked to the right and saw one golden head turned away from me, and the other golden head belonging to none other than the Prince himself. He hadn't seen me yet, and was continuing with his conversation.
"…She didn't tell me much to begin with, but she says she doesn't know why they're there or any details, but I think…" His gaze flicked past the other's shoulder for the briefest moment. He stopped. The other turned his head, his face breaking out into a boyish grin. They looked almost identical, save for the slight differences. Legolas was certainly a lot…prettier? The word fit. His features were more chiselled, more defined. The other had a slightly more oval face that had an unmistakable roguish quality to it.
"Hello there." The other said, his grin getting wider. "Didn't recognise you without dirt on your face." I glared at him, waiting for his grin to run out of face to use.
"Yuna." Legolas stepped between us, smiling nervously. "This is Firowen, Firowen, Yunalesca." I smirked.
"Oh, so you're Firowen. Funny, with a name like that, I thought you'd be a woman." His smile didn't disappear like I'd hoped.
"Oh that's perfectly alright, when Legolas here told me of 'Yunalesca,' I thought he meant one of his Dwarvish friends." The smile on my face fell instantly; replaced by a Look™ of pure shocked outrage. Legolas looked mortified. He looked to Firowen then me with his mouth open, searching for something to say to make the atmosphere lighter. To my own half-surprise, I found myself laughing. The sound broke through the tense air, dissipating all thoughts of Firowen's immanent bloody death. Legolas joined in nervously, subtly shoving Firowen down the hall to put as much distance between us as possible. He walked briskly up to me once our company had departed, throwing what could have been a wink in my direction.
"I like him." I stated, nodding my approval, Legolas opened his mouth to say something equally surprising back, then gave up and came out with:
"Why do I get the feeling that if I, or anyone else for that matter, made any kind of comparison between you and a Dwarf, I wouldn't live long enough to regret it?" I made a sound resembling 'eh…', and gave my oh-so-witty comeback.
"Not necessarily. He has a valid point. My name does sound slightly Dwarvish if you pronounce it wrong and basically totally ignore the vowels and lack of accents." I shrugged. "Besides, he's vaguely attractive." Success. His jaw dropped. "So, don't you have some royal business to attend to?" I didn't know what else to say.
"As a matter of fact, I do. I have to speak to my Adar." He added, as if to justify himself.
"About me?" I asked casually.
"What? No, why would you think that?"
"Well, you were just talking to Firowen about me."
"No I wasn--"
"Was." He was beaten
"Alright, I was, but only because he asked what happened. I have to speak to my Adar about why we were late back, namely, tell him of the situation in Fangorn." I could see brief apprehension flashing through his eyes before they returned to the normal, stoic blue. I couldn't help but wonder…
"Do you get on well? You and your father?" I was a natural probe, preferring to know everything about a situation before I assessed it. He looked confused for a moment.
"Yes, generally…why do you ask?"
"You're worried about your audience with him." I established, matter-of-factly.
"Well…I suppose I am, but that is only because I cannot help but be wary of what he will say to my 'excuse'." Hmm, I could see the rumours already. The Prince? Eloping with that freakishly clad woman? In the middle of Fangorn? How scandalous! There would no doubt be hoards of polished Elven ladies after my blood once the word got around that I had shared a horse with their Prince. I almost grinned at the thought. As for the King, I surmised that Legolas genuinely did get on with his father, and there was nothing of interest there. But I also wondered if he, like so many other sons, strived to be everything his father wanted. Somehow, I doubted my presence in the palace would improve that image.
"If it helps, you can tell him I made you do it. But then again, what a blow to your ego to be bested by a mere female." He cut off that line of conversation with a final note.
"Feel free to go about the palace and caves as you desire afterwards. Or even go into the city. Whatever you wish. If I survive, I should see you at dinner tonight." He made to leave, stopping and furrowing his brow as a long, burbling growl emitted from somewhere just above my abdomen. He gave me a look, somewhere between astonishment and morbid curiosity.
"Oh come on, get over it. I haven't eaten in, what, two? Three days?" He nodded carefully, his mouth still open slightly.
"I'm guessing you would rather eat something first?" I smiled in a silent conformation, retaining the ability to make an expression hold a weighty amount of sarcasm. "Very well, Firowen?" His gaze did not shift as Firowen peered round a nearby doorframe, managing to look guilty and innocent at the same time.
"Yes?" He asked, drawing the word out to twice its normal length.
"Kindly escort the Lady to the kitchens. And Yuna, do not hesitate to deploy any method necessary if it is needed." With that he turned and left, leaving me wondering what in Arda he was talking about.
Not for long, though.
Firowen grinned once more and latched a hand on my shoulder as he approached. I looked at him, then the offending hand, then back up to him. He got the hint and pulled it away quickly, replacing his hands behind his back as he beckoned for me to follow him with his head.
"So." He started, not in the least bit phased by my outright rejection.
"You must have had very cruel parents." I said, not giving him a chance to say anything more.
"Well observed. Although I am at a loss, fair lady, to see how you managed such accurate judgement based on our short time together." I dually noted how he deftly managed to sneak 'fair lady' into the sentence.
"Your name." I said simply. "What kind of loving family would name their dear son Firowen?"
"Alas, my darling mother wished for a girl. And she flatly refused to change my pre-chosen name upon my arrival into this world long ago." I had to raise an eyebrow at that.
"Oh? And what father wouldn't wish for a son to continue the family line?"
"Ah, well you see," Why, oh Valar, was I discussing the origins of his name with an egotistical, flirtatious, over-the-top imbecile? "The Prince had just been born two Winters previously, a ray of light in those times. When my mother found herself with child, I was instantly betrothed to the young prince. My mother would obviously wish for a beautiful daughter to arrive to be wed off as a Princess, you see."
"I do indeed." I said flatly. "Imagine her disappointment to go through all that and end up with you." He placed a hand across his chest in a pathetically serious manner.
"Your words wound me, my Lady."
"Good."
"Anyway, moving swiftly on." His swift recovery from the bruising of his soul almost brought a smile to my lips. "You, Yunalesca, intrigue me. Never before have I seen an Elf with your colouring. Or, for that matter, a female as renown a fighter as you seem to be." 'Renown enough to kick your sorry ass.'
"Really, how interesting." My tone couldn't have been any flatter if I'd passed a steam roller over it twice then compared it to the likeness of the Noble Ladies' chests. I'd heard the same rant countless times before. People were constantly reminding me of how different I looked. I had a darker complexion than almost any other Elves I'd met, my skin taking on an almost bronze tone. My hair was obviously the greatest difference. Even Celeborn's hair was more platinum blonde than the silvery white sheen that mine held. Last of all, my eyes. Sparse among humans, indefinitely rare to Elvenkind. They branded me as different, mocking the fact that my hair was enough to set me aside. I hated vehemently standing out constantly, and I hated even further having this fact constantly being repeated to me by ignorant fools who knew nothing. But it seemed that was not the case.
"But what intrigues me even more was that interesting little sound you made that prompted my being here. Most women in your position would have paled to white and promptly fainted."
"Position?" I faked naïveté.
"Such unladylike manners. And in the presence of the Crown Prince of the Realm, no less." He shrugged, opening a door for me, despite my being fully able to undertake the task by myself. "But then again, you do not seem as affected as They once were." He made the capitals fully audible.
"They?" I ventured, dreading the answer. He shook his head.
"Perhaps some other time I shall relate to you the horrors of the Prince's traumatic past, but for now…" He pushed open another door and the smell of freshly baked bread filled my lungs. Fresh fruit and vegetables could be picked out throughout the inviting aroma, and I allowed myself to be led forward, eagerly anticipating my first decent meal in a long time.
I looked up to see a flushed serving maid spring forth from some random corner of the kitchens. She beamed and curtseyed prettily at Firowen.
"Welcome, milord, is there anything I can do for you?" He flashed her a blatantly flirtatious half-grin, and inclined his head towards me.
"For me, I'm afraid not, for the time being. However the Lady here is well in need of some nourishment, could you perhaps prepare a plate for her?"
"Certainly milord." With a curtsey and a flourish, she was gone, skirts riveting round behind her.
Time passed pleasantly. I was led to a table, ignoring the dull ache in my temples, and sat down. The smell of food directly below me alerted my stomach to the presence of food, and soon I was satisfying my hunger as best I could. Not caring about the Elf watching my every move with wide-eyes surprise.
"What?" I snapped, Looking™ as angrily as I could to where Firowen sat, opposite me, hand on his chin, head tilted slightly, observing me chew my way through portion after portion.
"Nothing, nothing, it's just that I don't believe I've even had the pleasure of witnessing an Elf-maid on a binge before." I put the apple I was currently eating down and glared steadily.
"This is not bingeing. This is eating to ensure my immediate and continued survival. Look at me!" He did just that, trailing his eyes up and down my gaunt form. "My clothes are practically falling off me," I silenced with my expression the part of him that cried out to make some kinky comment on the last sentence. "It's only right for me to have enough energy to at least lift a sword."
"I suppose so, but…" He trailed off, chuckling to himself and waving a hand dismissivly. "Never mind." Great, now I was curious. But I couldn't let him know that. Thankfully, he finished his 'forgotten' sentence. "It's just…you must be one of the only females in this realm who don't seem infatuated by the daily chore of keeping their figure trim."
"Yes, well, as I've had to explain to countless people before you, I'm not exactly what you'd call 'orthodox,' by many accounts."
"Oh, of course. I wasn't suggesting that you were." He winked. "I like a challenge." I almost choked on my food. Didn't this guy give up? I now understood Legolas' words. I thought of kicking him under the table, but then he'd probably think I was trying to play footsie or something equally stupid. Maybe I'd just verbally thrash him instead.
"Don't you ever give up? Isn't it obvious I really don't find you very attractive? But no, you don't strike me as the type with the intelligence to make such educated observations. Such as: You, my friend, could write everything you know about women on a fingernail." I said as callously as possible, he shrugged and maintained the 'sweet innocence' smile.
"No, you're right, I don't give up. You have me smitten. I only hope, my lady, that you shall be able to admit your affections towards me before too long." He sighed wistfully, seeming to enjoy my horrified look. "I doubt my heart shall be able to take the strain."
He was wearing me out. I'd never spoken to someone like him who flatly refused to get offended by anything I said. It was infuriating. But I was not giving up without a fight.
"Is that a conclusion, or simply the place where you got tired of 'thinking'?"
"The latter, lirimaer. I'm afraid you have me at my wit's end." lovely one.
"Don't worry, wisdom eventually comes to all of us. Someday, it might even be your turn." He winked again.
"Such words. They seem so much more meaningful from the mouth of a woman. I always assume most men who insult me are merely jealous." His crippling arrogance was almost too much.
"Really? How blindingly chauvinistic of you."
"Not at all. I always thought women should be obscene and not heard." I laughed. It was obvious now what he was doing. I had never encountered someone like him before. Everything in life seemed to be a joke to him. He flirted relentlessly, knowing that most of the women he inflicted his charms on were immune to him, knowing he meant everything in jest. That was exactly what he was doing to me. I'd never confronted someone who acted like he did around me, let alone be flirted with as heavily as he did. Most were either too intimidated, or just plain knew better.
"You know? The trouble with you is that you lack the power of conversation but not the power of speech."
"Sadly, yes." He made to continue, but thankfully the Valar intervened and a maid appeared and curtseyed low, interrupting.
"Milord Firowen?" His head whipped round, smile bright and cheery as Gem's voice.
"Yes, Tári, my dear?" She flushed. This was pathetic.
"Your father wishes to speak with you." I was half expecting her to say father, but not in that context. Firowen sighed dramatically.
"If I must." He rose from his seat, offering his hand, then quickly retracting it as I shot him a death glare. He resigned to bowing regally and promising me a continuation of our conversation at a later time. I told him he shouldn't bother if he valued his right to have children as well as his sanity. He winked again and was off, chatting to the maid shamelessly.
I had eaten my fill a while ago, my appetite leaving me as we begun to converse. The male, I had decided a long time ago, is a domestic animal which, if treated with firmness and kindness, can be trained to do most things. Unfortunately, Elven men didn't fall into that category. They were far more intelligent (a few more millennia would do that to even the simplest of Men), clean, romantic, and above all, held such a sense of pride that if there was ever anything more important then their ego around, they wanted it caught and shot immediately. Alright, so not all were like that. Although most of the younger ones were, especially the women. I'd always mused that when the centre of the universe was finally discovered, many of the prettier females would be crestfallen to find that they were not, in fact, it.
Firowen, however, infuriated me to no end.
But what infuriated me even more was the fact that I found it unmistakably endearing.
I left the kitchens, wandering aimlessly down the corridors. Now what could I do today? I had been in Mirkwood once previously, what did I do then…?
Of course. Gildor. I wondered if he was still around. It didn't matter, at least I would have something to do for the remainder of the day.
There were so many things I hadn't thought of before that I wondered about as I found my way out of the palace. How long had I been out for? Who had healed my wounds? Who undressed me? Why? What on earth was I doing in Mirkwood ('Eryn Lasgalen' I mentally corrected myself. when Fangorn was in need? I convinced myself that the only reason I was doing this was so I could be in top condition to fight, also so I could get the reinforcements I needed to drive them out.
As I looked about at the walls, ceilings and floors around me, it occurred to me that I had never been in the palace before, and it was certainly not how I'd imagined it.
The entire thing was half carved straight from the mountains themselves. But instead of the rocky, uneven walls I'd been expecting, much like the walls of Moria, what I found was smooth, polished stone. The halls were lit in such a way that it did not seem gloomy or dark, simply dim. There were small windows that allowed shafts of light from far off, drilled for metres through the rock. Some rooms even had large skylights, bathing the floor in the golden glow of the day. The air was thin and cool, refreshing to the lungs. I was nearing an exit, I guessed. I could hear the far off chirping of birds and could smell the lush plants. But where was I? I scanned the hallway for identifying tapestries, carpets, anything, and came to one conclusion. I was standing directly in front of my bedroom door.
Damn.
But wait. I thought of Gildor, then of our last meeting. I told him of a sword I owned, a nameless sword, etched with runes of power, shining with an ethereal light. His eyes grew wide as a young elfling as I spoke. He greatly desired to see it, however I had not foreseen the need to take it with me on that particular trip. Perhaps another time?
I had forgotten about her when I travelled to Eryn Lasgalen, perhaps…
No, that was almost too much to hope that Legolas had taken her with me. But then again, he might have been smart enough to identify the contents of my pack as the small prized possessions I had, and brought them with him. But maybe, just maybe…
I pushed the door open, wondering if Gem was still bustling about. But no, she was gone. The scent of lavender hung lazily about the room, and for the first time I actually noticed how big it was. There was a large double bed to the left, drapes around the top and an embroidered throw over the blankets. To the right was an ornate wardrobe, a smaller cupboard to its left, and finally a chest. The door to the adjoining bathroom came next, followed by the full-length mirror and possibly one of the most comfortable chairs I'd sat on. 'Not nearly as comfortable as those in Elrond's study…' the thought flicked through my mind. The curtains were pulled back, letting the thin, silken netting flutter in the wind.
'Wind?'
I took a step forward, pulling the material back and gasping as I realised what was behind. The door to the grand balcony was open, and over the fencing, twined with vines, was a sight that would burn into my memory forever.
It was like a hollow cylinder in the centre of the mountain. Balconies from around the palace jutted out into the space, seeming to grow from the rock surface. Birds circled overhead the immense skylight, some diving down to wonder amongst the vines snaking their way up over the rocks.
The sun had not risen to the top of the sky yet, and as a result, only a few rays peaked over the top, casting a haunting glow on one side of the single, round wall. Below, the ground was dotted with plants, a design only visible from above fit for any high palace garden.
Vibrant colours mingled with softer pastels, which in turn contrasted with the deep and pale greens. It was breathtaking, to say the least, as well as highly unexpected. The immense beauty of the area was almost unreal. But, unlike Caras Galadhon, it was not the kind of priceless beauty you feared to touch. This was more earthy, more rooted in nature.
Images of dancing couples swirling beneath a twilit sky swam through my mind. There were torches at intervals along the various pathways that rounded through the grounds, and it occurred to me that it must be even lovelier with Eärendil shining down, luminating the grounds with starlight.
I shook such thoughts from my head and concentrated on finding Luccrecía.
Heading back inside, I scanned the room for any possible places. All I saw was an unmarked chest in one corner, unlocked. It had been opened recently after lying neglected for a long time, that much was obvious from the thin layer of dust. I knelt beside it and lifted the lid, careful not to disturb the dust.
I grinned. Before me was everything I cared about that was in my possession, Luccrecía sat snugly on the top. I only kept a few prized possessions, my sword being the most prized of all. In the chest lay a single outfit I had paid good money for in some obscure shop in Minas Tirth. As well as that, a few odds and ends I was loathe to leave behind. Among these was a plain mithril ring. It didn't mean anything, it wasn't special, it had no odd markings or glowing chevrons, it was just a plain, simple band. I didn't know why I liked it so much, or how, in fact, it had come into my possession. I had it, and it wasn't going anywhere as far as I was concerned.
Grabbing Luccrecía, I shut the case just as carefully and exited my designated room. Continuing down the hall as if I knew exactly where I was going.
It wasn't long before I heard light footsteps coming down the corridor towards me. To my surprise, Legolas, or rather, upon closer inspection, Thranduil rounded the corner, flanked by two advisors. He didn't even look at me, so I did him the same favour as I passed, throwing a fleeting smile at one of the men behind him as their gaze met with mine. I could feel his eyes on the back of my head as I continued down, but I did what I usually did in the presence of those the rest of the world would consider 'my betters' and completely and utterly ignored the label and everything that came with it as I strode past.
But as I remembered my earlier mistake, one word crossed my mind. 'Nametags…'
She stood out form anyone else Thranduil would have expected coming towards him. Strangely enough, it was as if he wasn't even there as she paced superciliously past. At the least he would have predicted she nod her head or make some kind of respectful acknowledgement towards him. Perhaps she was the one his son had spoken of? Yes, it had to be her. Her life in the uncivilised Entwood must have dissipated any manners or etiquette to speak of.
Even the highest of Elves, even his son the Prince would have made some kind of courteous recognition of his status. But she…she seemed to think she was better than all of them. Why his son had spoken so highly of an obviously rude, uncouth, uncultured woman was beyond him.
"Incredible, the craftsmanship on the blade is unmatched by any I have seen before. Beautiful. And these markings…" The man turned the sword round with practised professionalism, tracing the faint outline of the chevrons with a slightly callused yet pale-skinned and flawless finger. "Truly this is an amazing weapon, if a little heavy and awkward to be put to good use. I suspect it is more of a decorative item?" He handed the sword back to the woman, her darker skin contrasting with his.
"You are mistaken, Gildor" She replied, gripping the handle affectionately. "This is no ordinary blade, she is heavy and practically useless because you hold her." A blonde eyebrow raised in challenge. "Nothing against your skill, of course, but I have found that I can use her with ease, almost effortlessly, and yet she does not agree with anyone else."
"Interesting." He stroked his chin, eyes roaming the length of the blade." I have heard of a technique used to make a certain weapon usable only to particular bloodline or person…but I would have personally thought such a thing impossible. Do you recall how you got it?"
"No, I'm afraid not. I suspect my mother, but she was no fighter…"
"Strange that it bends to your will and no one else's, then. I shall have to think on this. But I shall say that you are indeed in luck to own such a sword, its value must be phenomenal. The craftsman must have been one of the best to have walked this earth."
"Is there no more you can tell me of it?"
"Sadly, no. Come back in a few weeks, maybe after the tournament, then I shall tell you anything I have found. Until then, Yunalesca." He nodded once, a half smile revealing faint lines of age on his face.
"Goodbye, Gildor." The woman turned and left, silver hair turning white as the sun's rays hit it. Once she was a good distance through the town, on her way back to the palace, one thought appeared unbidden. 'Tournament?'
Gildor had indeed been intrigued by Luccrecía, I could see the look of wonder on his face as he inspected the blade, turning it over in his hands, swiping experimentally. I wouldn't have let anybody else handle her as freely as he did, but then, I trusted him. I trusted him like I trusted a select few individuals. He was one of those people who saw no point in being dishonest, so he just carried on being one of life's truly good people. I knew he respected me the same way I respected him, so I was comfortable letting him attempt to use the unusable sword.
I thought of this and many things as I, once again, strode pointlessly down the halls of the palace. Although, this time, I had a kind of purpose. I was searching for some form of library, something like Elrond's vast encyclopaedia of Lore contained in a magnificent room in Rivendell. I doubted I would find something of the same calibre amongst the Wood Elves, but it was worth a try. Reading had always relaxed me, it didn't matter what it was. Letting my mind wonder had never appealed to me; I hated being off guard. But in Elrond's library, there was no reason to be on guard, so I was free to let my mind do whatever it wished.
I could make out the word 'library' in neatly carved Tengwar Sindarin on the dark wood door of what I assumed was, in fact, the library. The door creaked as I pushed it open, like all doors seemed to in this place. Inside, the first thing that hit me was the strong odour of dust and the dim lighting. The only source of light seemed to be emanating from the gently flickering candelabras and a single candle that poked out from above a pile of books that lay stacked haphazardly on a table. The sound of a page turning drew my attention towards it. There, sitting, book set firmly between her elbows, was an elf woman. Her golden hair cascaded down one shoulder; small, well-defined lips pursed together in concentration as her crystal blue eyes scanned the page. Her dark white gown was simple, yet elegant, the material easily indicating her as a higher-classed citizen.
I took a step closer.
She remained silent. Either she didn't see me -- which I doubted seeing that I was definitely close enough and in her view -- or she chose to ignore me. I guessed the latter.
I took another step, purposely allowing my footsteps to be heard. This time, her head shot up, one hand covering a feminine gasp.
"Oh, oh I…I'm sorry." She started, stammering slightly. "I…I didn't hear you come in." She seemed to find her voice again and smiled hesitantly at me.
"That's alright. Am I allowed to be in here?" I didn't really care, but on this occasion I didn't want to be trespassing on my first day of welcome.
"Oh, of course, yes. Whenever you like, Lady…"
"Yunalesca."
"Right, Lady Yunalesca." She seemed to be testing my name on her tongue.
"Call me Yuna, I'm no Lady. I'm only here because the Prince made me come." Her eyes widened slightly with what I assumed was recollection.
"Oh, now I remember. Legolas told me about you when he came back yesterday. Welcome to Eryn Lasgalen." She said pleasantly, beaming. Well this was certainly refreshing. I considered for a minute that she might be Nólad's sister, but no. They looked nothing like each other.
"Th…thank you…" I managed, my brow furrowing slightly as I regarded her. Just like Nólad, she had the same blameless, accepting and entirely sincere look in her deep cerulean eyes.
"Forgive me, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Narin." She bobbed once in her gown in what I assumed was some sort of informal curtsey. I merely nodded.
"So, are you a noble's daughter or something?" I asked, not unkindly or dismissive, but simply curiously. She giggled, apparently at some private joke.
"Yes…something like that." She smiled and motioned towards a chair not far from where she was. After she sat in her original seat, I moved towards the other chair and sat down, feeling slightly surprised at how comfortable it was.
"Are you in here a lot?" I was never good at small talk, but she didn't seem to mind. On top of that, she seemed ecstatic at my informality.
"Oh yes, I love it here." She said wistfully, her eyes resting on the bookshelves. "It's so quiet and far from anything going on in the palace. I love just to sit here and let my mind wonder in the stories of old…" Now that surprised me. "But listen to me, I sound like a child!" She must have seen the smile work its way onto my face.
"No, no. It's just…" I searched for the right word. "…refreshing to meet someone like you." She cocked her head.
"How so?"
"Well, firstly, most women I meet either gawk at me or comment on my choice of lifestyle."
"That's horrible." She stated. "Why would they do that? That's just rude."
"Well look at me. Don't tell me you don't think I'm at least a little odd."
"I…um…a little, I suppose. But I'd never have outright said it. And certainly not in a rude way. What…why are you looking at me like that? I-I didn't mean--"
"Relax, I just think it's nice to meet someone whose personality hasn't been badly affected by their high-class upbringing."
"Thank you…" She was clearly unused to hearing the truth. "And…I'm glad to meet someone who doesn't care about my title." It was like I was a breath of fresh air to her. So…I hear you're a warrior…what's it like? To have that kind of freedom?"
"Why don't you ask one of the fighters from the palace? Why am I so special?"
"Well, they're not as free as you are. No matter who they are they always have to follow orders from somebody. You…Legolas told me you live in Fangorn? How did that happen?" Her eyes were wide with anticipation.
"To tell the truth, I don't really remember. My childhood is…not something I want to recall." It was such a cliché, I knew, but it was the truth. What little I could remember wasn't pleasant, and I had no desire to dig up anything more.
"Wow…" She was now staring at me with an expression of mixed awe and fascination. "You're just like the heroes I always read about. I'm sorry if I'm too forward, it's just that you're the only female warrior I've met who actually is any good. I think that some of them in Eryn Lasgalen are fooling themselves thinking they could be fighters. Most of the men aren't sexist, but I have to agree with them when they say that half the women who think they can fight don't know one end of a sword from the other."
"And you? Don't you feel the urge to be rebellious?" I asked jokingly.
"Oh no. I know I wouldn't be any good. And besides, I doubt my father would allow it. Even so…I wish more of the stories I read were about women who fought in the great battles. Oh great, now I sound like I'm a raving feminist." I laughed.
"Don't worry. How about I tell you the tale of one of the many fights I've been in?" She smiled and nodded, like an elfling before a lore master. I felt strangely old as the memories of times long past filled my senses. I could smell the fire's embers as villages burnt, I could see the river of torches as the Uruk-Hai approached the wall, I could hear the cries of slain comrades, I could feel the scars riddled across my body freshly cut, blood pouring down. I couldn't tell her of half the things I'd seen. I couldn't describe to her the feeling of utter fear, loss, and worthlessness when a companion fell in battle.
I'd seen far too much to be considered a lady. I'd ended so many lives without a second thought. Orc, warg, Uruk-Hai, Humans whom just happened to be on the opposite side…I wasn't fit to be called a lady by any standards. I was one of life's true exceptions. I wasn't meant to have friends, fall in love, settle down or have a family. In the end I'd only bring them pain, or cause myself pain by loosing them. That was my philosophy, it was my mantra to convince myself that I was always doing the right thing.
Now, a story? Something exciting yet realistic, heroic yet not self-serving…
"How about the battle in Helm's Deep through the eyes of the only woman on the walls?"
A.N. Reviews:
Inatarille: Thankies. Sorry for not answering in the previous chapter, but when I was doing the reviews yours weren't up yet. About Yuna and Aragorn…yeah…um…we kinds forgot to put this big (very important) bit in about that before. Hopefully in either the next chapter or the one after we'll sort that out by putting it in a flashback or something. And you're right; it really wasn't very pleasant. Hoo, just checked out your profile ;) Can I just say I love your music sense? And you are officially the 15th person to put us on your faves. Have a cookie. No, wait, have two because you like good music.
Lilena: Hehe. Yep, we will explain about Cer soon, she's gonna (probably talk to him in the next chapter).
I Get Stalked By Snowmen: Cer isn't just some random guy, he actually is part of the plot (well, so are the rest of the characters, but there you go) and we'll elaborate on his character a bit more in coming chappies.
J-squeegy-tikiman: Congratulations, you've made me blush. The oh-so-common personality change will possibly happen, but not in the way you think, and it won't be like the rest of these hate-which-becomes-love-because-what-the-world-needs-now-is-love-sweet-love ficlets where this perfect-yet-icy-hearted character suddenly becomes this loving, warm character who everyone loves. It's more of a…oh just read. I'm regretting writing that now…
jeffiner1127: You see, most people say "OOOH! CLIFHANGER! SQEEE!" But not you, you've seen past our pathetic cover-up for laziness. When we cut it off, it's usually because we can't be pissed to write any more…
Melia: Here you go, hun.
Plumsy321: Bugs? Where? Grabs bug spray Not just yet, though soon, I promise, soon.
Sweet-legolas: Why is the 1st person thing bad? We had already written this chapter in 1st person, so…could you tell us exactly what you didn't like about the way it's done so we can change it? Thanks hun. Oh, for a good description of a Mary-Sue, go here: "www.imladris.nu/marysues.html" and learn. As for this story not being a Mary-Sue, people who say that are just being nice. This is a Mary-Sue. A completely shameless self-insert of our combined personalities. I think hardly any Legomances can say that they're not a Mary-Sue…
Ranting Fool: You can never beat us. NEVER! This is a Legomance, and as such we have the full support of our raging army of fangirls to review us as much as they want. Those corsets are as good as ours…cackles
Afowe Utina'vara: K then, I'm sure we're not that gripping, but there you go.