A.N. WARNING! EPIC A/N! WARNING!
Finally! As depicted in the previous interlude, we are sincerely apologetic for not having this done sooner. On the plus side, we now are the proud owners of a TTT extended DVD, and suddenly have a great desire to re-write the entire second section of the fic. But we'll save that for when we aren't in severe chapter-debt. Any Linkin Park and/or LostProphets fans may officially hate us now, as we scored a front-row square foot of concrete to stand on at their Concert in Wembley, London, on the 22nd. Yay. Also, Karl Urban fans might like to know that he winked and waved at me (Rai) and was about to sign my book but then didn't because he had to go back inside at the London Premiere and Tali also saw (and touched, squee.) Billy, Dom, Viggo, Bernard (Hill, Théoden), Ian (Holm, Bilbo) and Andy (Serkis, Voice/motion capture of Gollum)! Also, we have seen ROTK twice, and cried throughout the final hour BOTH times. WATCH IT!!!!!
Another little note: We realise that for the time being the events will jump around a bit. We're sorry for not writing about every single thing that happens in the days between the contests. Don't worry, it'll only last 'til chapter 28, when the tournament officially finishes, and it starts getting all dramatic and…um…heated?
The man of the month is: Chester Bennington.
Chapter dedicated to: 'Michelle' for being such a last-minute inspiration on the review board. (Yes this is just shameless whoring of the review system. Leave a nice review and the next chapter could be dedicated to you!)
"…Forfeit the game,
Before somebody else
Takes you out of the frame
Puts your name to shame
Cover up your face
You can't run the race
The pace is too fast you just won't last…
…Forfeit the game
'Cos tomorrow
When it's all done
You reap what you sow…"
Linkin Park ~ Points of Authority
Chapter Twenty Five: Disillusioned
"You won't be able to do that! I doubt even Legolas could reach the fifty feet mark in under a minute!"
"Oh really? Wanna bet?"
He thought for a while. "No. You don't have to see the future to know I'd lose."
We were outside the stadium again, pale golden light shining down on the crowds gathered in the grandstands. In place of the last day's rather miniature events, poles the size of slim tree trunks stretched away into the sky. Each was approximately twenty feet high, with a distance of a couple of metres in between them. Attached to the top of each was a little horn, the saviour of whoever managed to get to the top and stay there long enough to blow it.
At the rear of a surprisingly orderly queue of competitors, stood Firowen and I, watching those ahead of us as they made their attempt at reaching the top of the pole in the least amount of time possible. At the moment, a shortish human scrambled up the vertical climb. With all limbs firmly hugging the surface, he made good time reaching the top of the pole in probably less than a minute. Though nothing record breaking, it won him the preliminary heat.
"He's good." Firowen mused.
"Better than the Dwarves, anyway." I nodded as the high-pitched blare rang out through the stadium.
"Good lungs, too." The Elf wiggled a little finger in one ear, trying to get his hearing back. The losers allowed themselves to slide down, the more sporting of them shaking hands with the winner on their way out, and complimenting him.
Our group was the last to be pulled, hence our current status in the back of the queue. There were three out of thirteen groups of fifteen left. Legolas' was up next. After him, there was…that man. I didn't know who he was, but I felt I should, somehow. He was only a short way ahead of us. I could see his dark hair stand out against that of the Eryn Lasgalen Elves'. He turned about, and I saw his face up close as he told his name to one beside him. He had a deep voice, with no trace of an accent, which only made him seem odder. His face was unlined, yet chiselled. His inky hair thick and straight, reaching just past his wide shoulders. He had a strangely worn look about him, heavy and definitely muscular, but smooth like flat of a well-polished sword.
"Know him?" I was snapped out of my absorption by Firowen. I shook my head.
"Who is he?"
"Haven't a clue. No one knows who he is. I can't remember his name, but I remember it didn't sound quite normal." The female population of the crowd exploded as their Prince strode out onto the grass with the air of one who is fully aware of the effect he has on those around him. "This should be good."
I had a good view of the area, and leant over the three-foot fence sealing us off from them. Legolas took his position. They weren't given anything to help them climb, and had to rely entirely on their own prowess in that field. Perhaps that was why so many of them were falling off. Not the Prince, however. He took in the competitors, head held high, before steeling himself at the base of the pole. A horn was blown to begin the event. He shot up the pole, his arms and legs wrapping around and propelling him upward in a matter of seconds. The cheers were deafening as he reached the top in about forty seconds and blew the horn. I watched him critically just as I did the others. Despite being in such an environment, even the Elves didn't seem entirely at home with climbing the smooth, branchless poles. The best were those left from Lórien, as the poles cannot have been hard to climb next to their giant Mallorns.
The next group went forward in a similar fashion. A tall, flaxen-haired Elf was the winner, to my own surprise. The Man only came in at third, meaning he was assured to go through, but not to the finals of the round to see who gained the most points. The Elf was incredibly quick, and I learnt later on that this had been one of the most highly regarded border guards of Lórien. The Man was clearly not in his element. He was not used to climbing, and only made up for this with his lightning speed.
We were up next. I shot a sidelong look to Firowen, who grinned in reply as we were shown to our poles. His was right next to mine, and mine was directly in front of the royal box. I turned for the briefest moment to see Jen's hand oscillating wildly in something which might have passed as a wave. Narin, however, was looking a few metres to my right. I didn't have time to follow her gaze, as we were called to ready ourselves. I took a deep breath and remembered the countless days spent in the treetops of Fangorn. The horn blew, and within exactly twenty-five seconds, blew again. I heard a gasp ring out through the crowd. Firowen was the favourite to win this round, and he was not yet halfway up. Few, if any, knew of my background, and assumed I was from Lórien or a random village near the Redhorn pass. None had expected me to be able to break the record set many years before.
The finals were being set up, and I lined up obediently next to the thirteen finalists. There was Legolas and the border guard just in front of me, and the other ten I had seen, but did not know. The Prince turned to speak to me as the fifty foot poles were erected.
"How did you…?"
"Secret. One I'm not going to tell you because I intend to win this round."
"What makes you think you're going to do that?" I gave him a disbelieving Look™ and sniggered.
"Because first of all, I've done this my entire life for the past three millennia. Secondly, I've no intention of letting anyone here but myself win."
"And what if I told you that I could go a lot faster, and I was, in fact, holding back to throw you off." I regarded him for a moment, before allowing a grin to seep across my face.
"I'd laugh at you."
"And why is that?" He asked after a while.
"Because so was I." And that was the last thing either of us said before our names were announced and we took our places. It started all too quickly, and there was the short sound of four pairs of feet scraping across the ground before grabbing the pole. I simply leapt straight on, my legs heaving me up, my arms grabbing the section a foot above. I was halfway up within the first fifteen seconds. I cast my eyes downward for a fleeting moment. But it was long enough to exchange glances with a certain Elven Princeling whom was eating my proverbial dust. A few deep breaths later. One more clench of the quadriceps, lugging my body up the pole. I stretched and reached, my fingertips grasping the horn. I brought it to my lips and squeezed every ounce of air I had in my lungs into the noise that followed.
My muscles relaxed before I could stop them, and I felt myself falling. There was a joint intake of breath that snapped me back to reality. I tightened my grip and a few friction burns later, I stopped a few inches from the ground. I hopped off, throwing a triumphant look to Legolas, before confirming my name and striding out of the stadium.
~*~
"Wait…a fan club? Did I hear you correctly?"
"Well that's what I heard." She said with a cock of her head.
I was beginning to like Gem. She was a constant source of gossip, and always had some new rumour about me to share. When I asked her how she found things out, she replied that no one really noticed her because of her size. Only she said it as if it was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Now she told me that she had caught wind of more than a couple of bets on me, and, strangely enough, a group of eager elves, just having come of age, asking if I was inside outside the palace gates. My right eyebrow had got quite a workout since the morning.
"Well isn't that odd…" I mused.
"Not really when you think about it." Gem said thoughtfully, leaving her load of towels on a chair and clambering up on the bad to sit next to me. "Everyone's used to Legolas winning and so on by now. You, a new face -- and what a face at that! -- attract more interest than the Prince showing his pretty head a couple more days a year." I formulated a comment, but was cut off before I got out a word. "It's only natural that most of your fans are the more boyish girls and the older boys." Seeing my look, a mixture of confusion and outright disagreement, she continued, delving deeper into the matter. "The girls see you as an icon for feminism." I laughed. Surely I was the last person anyone would wish to have as a role-model. "Many of them desire to be warriors, but are either too shy or too afraid of the consequences and social ostracism to admit it, yet alone act upon their desires." I furrowed my brow. For a hobbit, Gem could be surprisingly insightful. "And the boys, well…"
"Don't even try to tell me what I know you're going to--"
"But it's true! They see you, a woman, as a renown warrior, and are attracted not only to you, but to the power you seem to have."
"But there are other women in the tournament! Why don't they have groupies!"
"Because, but for a pair of misshapen breasts, they are practically men! You, face it, are striking."
"Well I knew that…"
"In a good way. You're attractive, and, even though you may be a little rough around the edges, feminine." This was strange. The last person who told me I was fair was a drunk on the streets of Minas Tirth. I had always known that you could either be a beautiful courtesan, or a warrior. I chose the harder path, and accepted a long time ago that I would never be thought of as beautiful and would never find anything even resembling love. I wasn't sure I appreciated everything I thought I knew about myself turned over in front of my eyes. And that was happening an awful lot these days…
"She's right, you know." I looked up to see Jen standing at the doorway, smiling wryly. I glared.
"Don't you start." She giggled in a way that could only be described as prettily.
"Anyway, what did I come here for…oh yes! I got Cer to tell me what the next event is!" I processed this for a moment, not even questioning her apparently dominant relationship with someone almost twice her size.
"Not that I'm ungrateful, but why aren't you going straight to Legolas with this? Unless you already have, of course."
"Legolas? Why would I do that? I don't want him to win again. I certainly don't want to know what would happen if Firowen won, and Cer and my brother's aren't competing…so I want you to win."
"You found out about the bet, didn't you?" She hung her head.
"Yes."
"Not that I blame you. I can't say I wouldn't climb over whoever it takes to see that." She giggled again.
"Anyway. Want to know what the next event is?" Gem made herself inconspicuous. I wondered if Jen noticed her as she was behind the bed pretending to sort something out.
"Go ahead."
"Well, it sounded a little weird when he first told me, but I'm sure you can form a better mental picture than I can. It's basically a perfectly round, smooth wooden rod suspended a variable height above the ground by these two other poles."
"Variable to what?"
"The person's height. It's designed so that the competitor sort of hangs from the wooden rod by their arms. The pole is just low enough so their feet touch the ground."
"A test of strength." I mused.
"Exactly. The timer starts as soon as your feet leave the ground, and stops when they come into contact again."
"So as soon as you either fall off or your arms give in, basically."
"That's the general idea, yes. Sounds rather brutal."
"Yes, well, they're eliminating half the competitors In this round. Then it'll be down to a hundred. That's when it gets brutal."
"Cer'd win it." She added offhandedly.
"What makes you so sure?"
"You've seen him, right? Trust me, those arms are not just for show. He can lift me clean off my feet without breaking a sweat!" I raised an eyebrow again.
"How…interesting. Anyway, did he say anything about the reason for the event?"
"Well…what do you mean?"
"Think about it. All the other events have been outright tests of skill, why should this one be so different? If I had to guess, I'd say it was to do with the favouring of Elvish skills over the other races'." I paused in thought. "Climbing, hiding and archery are not considered the main strong points for Mortals, however you look at it. Sword fighting, perhaps. But if there's anything the Humans have, it's raw strength. Maybe this is Thranduil's way of levelling the playing field."
"Probably." Jen replied, noncommittally. "Anyway, I'd better be going. Make sure you don't tell anyone. I already promised not to tell Legolas, or Firowen or any of the other guys in the tournament. As I think we've firmly established, that means I'm fully entitled to tell you. If he asks, we never had this conversation." With a wink, she swept out of the room, her loose, golden curls waving behind her. That was one of the few advantages of long, trailing dresses. They were good for sweeping out dramatically.
"Well I'm glad you've got an advantage." Came the strong shire accent of Gem as she reappeared beside me. "You'll win and show those boys, eh Lady Yuna?"
"Er…yes, of course…" I didn't like being confused. But it just happened to be one of those many things that just seemed to happen a lot more often in the wood of Eryn Lasgalen.
~*~ Interlude ~*~
I knocked on her door, still not having changed my clothes from the competition. The throbbing in my arms had soothed somewhat, since I was of the first competitors and had plenty of time to recuperate. I was worried for her, however. I was not the only one to see the split-second muffled gasp of pain just before she dropped and crouched, gulping in air, on the earth. I saw the way she gripped her left shoulder as discreetly as she could while trying to smile to the crowd as she left the arena. The crowd had dispersed, and as soon as I could get away, I did, heading for her room. The event, earlier in the day, had ended in her favour save for a matter of seconds that allowed the victor to gain first place. I watched her carefully as he took his position. Her breathing quickened, I suspect, against her will, and I saw her fists clench as they called out his time. She was on directly afterwards, and was the last competitor to leave. The crowd were stunned by his efforts previously, and although she was the favourite, I had heard, to either win or gain a very high number of points, hardly an eye was on her as she and the other seven in her group entered the arena.
By the end, of course, as soon as Firowen's luck ran out, they were watching her. She was lighter than him, and had the advantage. I still remember how light she was when I lifted her on to my horse. That was one of the few things that made me think of her as a woman, rather than just a fighter who happened to be female. I saw the beads of sweat forming along her forehead. Her eyes were closed, her breathing slight yet steady. She was ignoring the cheers of the crowd, concentrating purely on the thought of keeping her hands gripped around the pole. I saw her arms vibrate with the tension towards the end. She had used up all the strength there was left and called upon any reserves. I saw them go slack, her eyes vaulting open and the look of intense pain hidden deep within the dilated pupils. She literally shook off any kind of help, but I saw how hard she tried to hide the agony and left without anyone else fussing over her.
"Who is it?" I heard from inside. I could easily discern the breathlessness as she half-groaned the forced out answer.
"It's me." I replied after a moment's hesitation. I hoped she'd know my voice, I thought a second later as I realised how presumptuous I sounded. There was no reply from inside, although I thought I heard a soft murmur. Bracing myself for possibly getting a pillow thrown at my head, I slowly creaked open the door and peered around it. She lay on her back on the bed, her posture rigid. Her eyes were closed in careful concentration, and I could tell from her laboured and sporadic breathing that she was not trying to sleep. Her left hand gripped her shoulder tightly, her bottom lip clenched between teeth. She had taken off the top half of her now trademark outfit, and was clad only in the leggings and a tight vest-like top she wore underneath. Without hesitation, I walked over and placed a hand over hers. Her eyes creaked open slowly, and I caught a flash of what could have been fear on one less steeled.
"Leave." Came the croaked out syllable. "I don't want you or anyone else to see me like this." On anyone else, I would have thought she referred to her lack of appropriate clothing. But I knew that for her, the only shame was in her own weakness.
"Too late now. What happened?" Seeing she would not win and so did not make things even more difficult, another thing I could not help but admire, she conceded.
"Right before I--" A sharp intake of breath as I gently removed her hand. "--I let go. My shoulder gave in. I thought I pulled it clean off. Or at least, that's what it felt like."
"But if that were the case, and you pulled your arm out of the socket, you would not be able to move it."
"Exactly. I'm sure you can appreciate how pathetic it makes me feel to be in agony over something as trivial as a pulled muscle."
"Not as much as you'd think. I saw as you got down, your arm hit the floor and jarred upwards. You may not have noticed with the preoccupation the pain of a newly-pulled muscle brings."
"Don't make it sound better than it is. It's stupid and girlish and you know it."
"Oh for the love of Elentári! Stop putting yourself down. My father thought he'd lose his whole leg once when all that had happened was that he had a rather severe cramp in his calve." Despite her situation, I was happy to see a smile work its way across her face. "I know what might help." I suggested, knowing it as a bold move. Furrowing her brow in a gesture that was oddly cute, she nodded once, barely moving her head. She allowed herself to be sat up, and although I could clearly see she was in pain, the only inclination she let out was a few muffled gasps. I looked over the injured shoulder. It was a slightly darker colour than the rest of her skin, and I made a mental note to ask her that nagging question in the back of my mind when the opportunity arose.
She tensed immediately as my hands came into contact with her skin. I subconsciously waited for a sharp rebuke or an angry gesture, but none came. She relaxed after a while, although her injured shoulder was still rigid. I could hear her breathing in the heavy silence, deep and meticulously controlled. I had a little knowledge in the healing arts. All good warriors did. It was common knowledge that gentle manipulation of the flesh did wonders for injured muscles. My sister being a healer, she had me well versed in the many procedures and techniques used. I hoped Yuna interpreted it as such.
Although, truth be told, I did have a slightly ulterior motive. Her skin. Ever since I saw her, I wondered in the back of my mind how it would feel beneath the fingertips. I was curious, but when I glided my hands over her shoulders, all questions were answered. I could feel the barest evidence of muscle beneath, but no where near as conspicuous as on a man. And the softness of it as I massaged the wounded joint almost brought me to stop. With everything else about her that was so coarse, this seemed to balance it out just right. Little things. Like the way her eyes lit up against her will at the strangest things. The hints of dimples on prominent cheeks. The way she stared out of windows, at candle wicks, on the glitter of a chandelier. Only when she thought no one was looking was the wall brought down. She was sorrowful about something. But then, most are. Everyone had their own things to be sad about, although I suspected she more than most others. Absently, I wondered when was the last time she cried in front of another person. Or at all. I didn't know where the thought came from, and dismissed it quickly as it seemed a little too odd for careful consideration.
She was, I surmised, one of the strangest people I ever had the pleasure of meeting. She could be almost sweet and caring in her own peculiar little way. But then again, she could also look at you in such a way that you could feel every cell in your body suddenly get half as big, and say in a very small voice "oh dear." She was less threatening if you knew her, at least. Then you realised that the aura of power and solitude she kept up really was just a façade.
"Where did you get that?" I asked, breaking the dense silence as my thumbs rubbed over a streak of peachy skin that could only have been a scar from long ago. She relaxed a little, probably glad to have something else to think about.
"Mumak." She stated.
"Mumak?"
"Mûmakil?" She tried again. I recalled hearing the name, and identified it as being of the elephantine beasts of the Harad. I told her so. "I believe they were used by the Haradrim in the Battle of the Pelennor fields, although the details I have of that particular skirmish are still rather sketchy."
"Skirmish, she calls it. Were you there, I am sure you would say otherwise."
"Yes, but I was not, and therefore, I can say whatever I like." I laughed softly. She was so blunt, and her sarcasm made for a refreshing change of scenery.
"What happened?" She thought for a while, I could picture the images flitting across her eyes.
"I was staying in Lebennin for a time. A few decades ago, my memory fails me as to when exactly. A large band of Haradrim came from across the Ethir Anduin and were raiding the local villages. I joined the small army that marched out of Pelargir to meet them. I was caught in the thick of it. It was Amarië's first large-scale battle, and she got scared. I tried to calm her, but she reared suddenly, and threw me off."
"Amarië?"
"A horse I once travelled with. Beautiful, she was. A coat like black silk with an almost blue-grey blaze. I miss her like I do all my old horses. Anyway, on with the story. There was a dead Mumak directly behind me. I would have been skewered on its tusk had not a soldier grabbed me just out of the way. It still caught me rather badly though, but I was alive." She chuckled with genuine amusement. "Imagine that. Living through countless battles for three millennia only to be killed by something already dead."
"Yes, I suppose that is amusing…in a strangely perverse way. What happened to the soldier?"
"I don't know." She replied slowly, brooding over the memory. "Realistically, he's probably dead. But maybe not. The battle might have knocked some sense into him and made him leave the army as soon as he could. He was very young, only just come of age to join up, by the looks of him. I don't know. Perhaps he was so uplifted by the victory that day that he worked harder than ever and went on to become a great Captain or General, as such is the course of things." There was a pause in the flow of conversation.
"This is old. Is there a story behind it as well?" My thumb traced the barely visible line that crossed over the other.
"If my memory serves me correctly, that was a little token from the battle of the Five Armies right here in the Wood." I worked out a knot near her shoulder blade as I thought over this.
"That is…certainly very odd. You seem to get a round a great deal. I have no recollection that you were there, though. Whose side were you on?"
"I fought with you father's Silvan Elves, of course. At the time I was visiting Gildor to fix up a couple of weapons when I caught wind of the goings-on with the Dwarves. Naturally I was up for a good full-scale battle, so I tagged along."
"I see…" I didn't, really. It was odd how she managed to get people to do what she wanted. She could look threatening enough had she the incentive, and I guessed that it was part of the reason. "How did you get it?"
"Orc scimitar. A rusty one." And would you believe that none of the healers present wanted to do anything about it because they were too embarrassed. Those I asked were married, so I pointed out that if that was the case, surely they'd seen it all before and it shouldn't pose so much of a problem." I laughed again at her almost innocent bluntness. "In the end one eventually did something, although I suspect it had something to do with the fact that I had lost a lot of blood and still had a fragment of the aforementioned blade stuck in my back." I shook my head in disbelief.
"How could you be so articulate in a situation like that?"
"Well, if you want a more accurate portrayal, I was half-carried in by a random soldier near the battle's end. When in great pain, I get violent rather than distressed. Since I was fairly immobile, I resorted to shouting at them until they did something. It wasn't even as if they were short on healers. The tent I was in was overflowing with eager novices who sped around the mats like bees in a hive."
"And none of them would help a poor, defenceless woman."
"Don't push your luck. Just be thankful I can't be bothered to reach for the nearest blunt object. And as I recall, just as I was leaving the tent, I happened upon someone being carried in moaning in pain when he hardly had a scratch on him." My hands froze. How did she…? "I remember that was the second time I'd seen you."
"And the first?" I made a feeble attempt at reversing the direction of the conversation. Fortunately, it worked.
"You hadn't even come of age. You and Thranduil were riding through town on my first visit to the Greenwood. Your mother was with you." Now that was unexpected. "I remember thinking how beautiful she was. And how perfect all three of you looked, atop pristine white horses with the people stopping to watch you pass. I saw her again only a few centuries ago. She was riding out with you and the king."
"That…that must have been when she was leaving for the Grey Havens to depart for Valinor. The sea called to her too strongly to be ignored. She left when Aldaríon was barely ten years of age."
"Aldaríon?"
"My younger brother. Narin tells me you have already had the pleasure of his acquaintance."
"Ah yes. The little shit. Although I don't think it's all his fault. Anyone would be like that if they had a striking family resemblance to one of the most attractive men in the Wood." My breath caught in my throat. Did she mean…?
"Where did you hear that?"
"Oh come on, princey. First of all, I'm not blind. Secondly, have you ever actually been to the village? You're all some of the women down there talk about. Imagine the shock on their pale little faces when I let slip that I insult, kick the crap out of, and worst of all, sleep not a few doors down from you!" Her shoulders shook with laughter. I had probably easily soothed the muscle sufficiently, but I found myself with my hands still firmly attached to her skin.
~*~ End Interlude ~*~
"H…Here's your horse, Lady Y…Yuna…"
"Hmm?" I was rather preoccupied with other things than to notice the stable hand stalking up behind me, Amroth not two inches behind him.
"Your…uh, horse."
"Oh, yes, of course." I rather hurriedly turned around to face him. Thank you…uh…"
"Valandil, we met before?"
"Sorry, I knew your face, I just couldn't, um--"
"It's perfectly alright, my lady. He almost tripped over his words. There was a moment of silence. So how's my little Ammie?" I motioned towards the beast who nuzzled lightly at the elf's shoulder.
"Ever since you talked to him, he's been fine. If not a little temperamental at times."
"That's good."
"And, uh, I've been training him up a bit. Making sure he's perfectly healthy and everything."
"That's…nice of you…."
"I've been watching you. In the tournament, that is. You've been doing very well. As well as the Prince, in fact. Few have managed that in the past couple of years."
"I think it's about time someone put him in his place."
"In…indeed," He said, trying to gently deter Amroth from chewing on his hair whilst trying to keep a friendly smile plastered to his slightly thin lips.
"Well, I'd better get on. I need a little practice before this afternoon's competition."
"It is too bad you are unable to use your own horse. As a pure-bred Rohirric, he would surely aid you in gaining more points than your unworthy competitors."
"True, but I guess for some reason we must all use horses of the same ability, otherwise I suppose it would be unfair."
"Ah…indeed." He tried a little more forcefully to dislodge the wad of hair and saliva that was building up in Amroth's mouth. The horse neighed has its jaws were forcefully pried apart and the young blonde
tugged his golden locks from within.
"I'll…uh…be going." I said, trying hard not to let out a chuckle. Somehow in the current situation I doubted it would do much for his confidence.
"Farewell, my Lady!" He shouted after me as I mounted Amroth and we cantered away. "I shall see you at the next event."
"See you there, then." I mumbled under my breath, not caring much if he heard me or not.
Minutes later, I was out in a good square kilometre or so of fields that must have been reclaimed from the forest over the last few years. There were vague fences separating different regions of grassy earth. But nothing that might actually obstruct or hinder anyone or anything. It was odd, that finally there seemed no need. After a half hour of putting Amroth through his paces and once again getting a feel for the beast, I noticed a mounted figure approaching on the horizon. I made no move towards them, it was doubtful they had come for my benefit, though it was likely they had come for the same reason I had, to get in some practice before the next event. Without a second thought, I returned to my previous business and trotted off to the next fence. It was a while of absent-mindedly watching the person's approach before I realised just who it was. And that they were not alone. Mounted atop a suitably tawny steed, was none other than the Prince himself and his…betrothed. I'd almost forgotten about her. They looked like a scene from some childish fairytale. Where the dashing prince had just rescued his fair maiden and both were riding off into the surgical-appliance pink sunset. In short, it made me sick. I looked for some way to escape talking to them, but it was obvious they'd already seen me, as me and Amroth were the only things for quite some distance. Besides, leaving now would be considered rude. Thankfully I remembered that that had never stopped me in the past and started to gallop in the direction of the stables.
"Yuna!" 'Oh Valar,' There was no way to avoid the meeting after Tengaar's obsessively friendly call. I made a roundabout turn, jumping a low-lying fence as if it had been my intention all along, and simply carried on to the path.
"What are you two doing out here?" I croaked slightly. Tengaar beamed, her beige-coloured dress as always complimenting her slightly tanned skin.
"We came out here to get away from everybody, though I guess that didn't really work out."
"Oh, well, if you'd like me to go." I said hurriedly.
"No, no, or course not." She waved a hand. My eyes ran over the pair for the briefest moment. Why was it that the sight of her hand clasped with his made me feel so bitter? Was I merely envious of the closeness they had? And if so, why didn't I feel the same when I saw Jen and Cer together. It was the other things as well that I noticed. Her hand resting lazily on his thigh, her head snug on his shoulder. Why did it seem all too much?
"I'm afraid I really must go, I said I'd meet someone," I finished lamely. Only baring to meet Legolas' eyes briefly. My breath caught in my throat for a second. There was something there, slight but unmissable, what it was I couldn't tell, but it was not enough to make me sit through the awkwardness of the situation.
"I suppose if you have to…"
"I do, have…um…fun." I forced Amroth around and once again headed for the stables as fast as I dared. It took no time at all to reach the building, and within minutes I was in the safety of my own four walls. There was that question again. Why did I care? Why was it that when I saw Legolas and Tengaar together it felt like someone stabbed me through the heart. I could recall just what it felt like to ride next to him, having done it for at least a weak solid. But at the time I hadn't expected to miss the warmth of his back. Or the security of his arm nestled around my waist. I swallowed the lump in my throat, what was happening to me? Had I become so weak that even slight bouts of jealousy made me want to cry? And what was that look in his eyes? Desperation? Compassion? I couldn't decide. Or maybe in the end, I didn't want to.
~*~
"No way am I getting on that." Out in the stables that afternoon I was faced with something of a dilemma Staring bleary-eyed at me was a mare that looked as if any attempt to mount it would lead to broken bones on both sides. "What is that? The collapsible model?"
"Look, you weren't here earlier so all the good horses are already taken. Unfortunately for you, this is all we have left. So you either ride it or you're out of the competition. Simple." I Looked™ at the genuinely unsympathetic stable master.
"I thought all the horses had to be equal. Somehow I get the feeling that if all of them are like this, nobody has a chance." He took a deep breath, breathing out through clenched teeth.
"If you must know, we're a little short on horses. Where they think I can find fifty well-trained horses that aren't already indisposed is beyond me." He didn't seem to be talking to me anymore, rather those cruel people whom had enforced this responsibility upon him. I resigned myself to standing there looking as sympathetic as possible. It wasn't that I actually cared, I just assumed it might give me a better chance of trading the mare for something that could actually stand. A table, perhaps?
"Lady Yuna!!" You could hear the extra exclamation mark. I attempted to keep the cringe inwards, not that it worked.
"Valandil!" I turned, positively beaming. "How can I help you? It's not Ammie again, is it?"
"No, m-milady…" It was quite for a minute. The only thing to break the silence was the stable master exiting in somewhat of a huff. The stable hand just stood there, eyes wide, mouth agape. The expression seemed far to familiar on him, and as for myself, I felt like the bearded lady at a carnival.
"Well, what then?"
"I've been looking for you everywhere, my Lady." Once again, the stare.
"Because…?"
"Oh…yes…right, well, um, I noticed that you weren't here, and that all the good horses were going, so I saved you one." I tried my best, but I couldn't comprehend this. Someone had done something really considerate for...me? Me. A cynical, uncaring, misanthropic bitch. He was either crazy or downright delusional. But is did have its perks.
"Wow, how can I thank you? You've kept me in the competition." I said in a forced voice, not really knowing r comprehending what I was saying. He went crimson, lowering his head and fiddling with the stray pieces of hay on the floor.
"It…it's nothing really. I'm sure any fan would have done the same."
"Fan?"
"Yes…oh, didn't you know? There are quite a large group of us now. And more aspire to the cause after each event."
"That's…nice of you." He opened his mouth, but I cut him off before he could carry on with his narrative on the wonderful world of me. "I'm afraid I really should be going. The event will start shortly and I don't want to be any later than I already am. If you would be so kind as to show me the horse…?"
"Of course, milady."
~*~
The whispers spread fast through the crowd. Followed by gasps and the final thunder as the competitor crossed the finish line.
"That was…"
"Amazing?" Celoril finished off. "He wins it every year. You wouldn't think it, but he's undoubtedly the best horse rider in Eryn Lasgalen. If not in Middle-Earth."
"You're right. I wouldn't have thought it." In the centre of the arena he dismounted, giving a short wave to the ecstatic crowd before leading his steed out.
"They've improved it since last time." He said, a slight smirk gracing the corners of his lips.
"Oh just admit it, Firowen, you'd have found seducing a new handmaid more difficult than that," Celoril remarked.
"Perhaps. I still resent that implication. But it is good to see they've tried."
"Forgive me if I'm wrong," I said, glaring at the animal behind him. "But isn't that your own horse? I mean, it's the one you had with you travelling from Fangorn."
"He is."
"But that's against the rules...isn't it?"
"Well, not technically. You see, Gelmir's a pure Elvish breed. If he wasn't already mine, he'd be used for the competition. So the way they figure it, he's the same as any of the others. Besides, the stable master seemed busy so I figured I was doing him a favour."
"Figures." I sighed. "In any case, I'm up in a few minutes so there's no use complaining. See you later." I left the two and made my way to the starting area. Waiting for me was a bay stallion with possibly the most intelligent eyes I'd seen on any animal. "You win this for me, Lamalas, then I promise to get you whatever kind of apples you want. Maybe even delivered fresh from the shire. Even if it's only a good time, I can make sure you get a few nice carrots every day for the next month. C'mon, what do you say?" He neighed softly as I scratched him behind the ears.
"Lady Yunalesca!" The sudden voice from behind startled me. "Bribing a horse is downright disgraceful."
"Despicable, don't you mean" I replied, not turning around. "However much I would like to stay and chat, princey, I'm up next."
"Of course. But, um…who was the stable hand you were talking to before?"
"How did you know about that?"
"I was there earlier. Looking for a horse, that's all." He replied nonchalantly.
"Why do you want to know, anyway? Jealous?"
"I'm afraid not." He chuckled. "He just seemed a little…awe-stricken."
"If you must know, he's fan who was nice enough to make sure I was supplied with a decent horse. That's all, really."
"Really?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Yes" I scowled. "Now leave me alone. I've got an event to get to and I don't need you and your insinuations to disturb me."
~*~
As it was, I competed the course in enough time to more than reserve me a place in the next event. I'd had some difficulty jumping all nine fences in succession. But on the third attempt I managed it. Although I had to admit that even doing that had been quite an accomplishment, as at more than a few points, Lamalas had stalled, and I'd almost been forced to start again. Thankfully, they'd been split seconds and I'd been the only one to notice so I'd carried on as normal. It was only twice at the two last and hardest fences that I was made to repeat the course. But as he'd had some practice it didn't seem to phase the stallion. Following me came a succession of riders that were at best average. That was, of course until he came along. His own horse was suitably black. With the kind of muscles that rippled under velvet skin as it surmounted obstacles in its way. He sat atop it, completely undaunted by the jolts as the beast cleared fence after fence. Not once did a legible expression cross his face. Not once did he make a move whilst mounted. Even at the very end when he was told he'd come fourth place. Nothing resembling emotion appeared on his chiselled features.
Something about him sent a chill up my spine. And as with the first time I'd set eyes upon him, I felt that sense of dread and uneasiness that I couldn't fully explain. His presence was unnerving. And as I sat on the sidelines with many of the other competitors surrounding me, I couldn't help but feel that his eyes were steeling glances at me with their icy gaze. But within mere moments he'd left the arena as if he had indeed never been there at all.
A.N. This chapter was written in little bits, and those little bits were pulled together to make other little bits which made up the chapter. That's why it reads so….bitty?
P.S. (sorry) Even though we've sort of covered this, I (Tali) got to shake Sir Ian McKellen's hand (it's quite chubby and the silver, leather trousers he was wearing scared the shit out of me). I shook Billy's hand and kept asking him to sign my poster whilst me and my mate clung on to his arm (his suit was really thin, poor dear must have been cold and he was probably thinking 'could you two bloody cows get off of my arm!' which I don't blame him for, we kept shaking the arm he was writing with). But my special thanks goes to Andy Serkis who was the only one to sign my giant premiere poster (did I tell you I got a poster? No? Well I did, it's like 4 by 3 foot) after which I screamed at him that he'd soon be one of my nine husbands and I didn't mind bigamy. But yeah, now I've got to lug this thing round to signings and conventions so they can all sign it (life is so hard *sigh*). So if you did go there and you saw a random girl being squashed whilst screaming at people "I know you! My mum loves you!" That was me. ^_^