Hello! I'm back with more for you, all my lovely readers. I never thanked you all enough for all your wonderful reviews! So, my humble thanks.
So, here I am with my promised one-shot, "Blood and Flowers." Happy Friday. I originally meant it to be a multi-chapter story, but realized it would have just been repeating itself over and over, so I left it at this. (The repetitiveness in this chapter was deliberate, however.) But, who knows, maybe one day when the inspiration hits again, I'll continue it. It starts out slow, and there's not much action, but give it a chance, eh? (I apologize if it deletes my scene dividers. I'll correct it as soon as possible.)
Blood and Flowers
It would begin as a peaceful walk through the trees, with just a growing sense of unease, then suddenly end with a shrill scream. It grew worse every time.
Tonight he was walking through the trees, the sun shining merrily through the treetops and the wildlife chattering. But something was wrong.
A growing sense of unease crept upon him, as every time before, and the nature around him gradually quieted until it died out completely.
Suddenly a shrill scream echoed off to his right and he took off running in that direction. As he drew nearer, sounds of a scuffle could be heard, along with the terrifying shrieks of delight from Orcs.
Coming to a small clearing, he could only stand frozen as he watched an Elf maiden struggle in the grasp of the Orcs. Her bright green dress was torn and she was bleeding from several minor wounds.
Just as she turned to look at him…
Legolas bolted upright, breathing hard, and cast a wide-eyed glance around his room. He collapsed back on the bed in relief when he recognized the familiar surroundings.
The dreams had been coming more and more frequently lately and had been growing longer each time. This was only the second time he had seen the maiden, but had still been unable to help.
Glancing outside through the open balcony doors, Legolas noted it was still before dawn, but decided to stay up anyway. He took his time readying himself for the day, then still having time to spare, decided to check his weapons.
Legolas removed his bow and quiver of arrows from where they rested beside his bed and examined them. All of the arrows were perfect and in no need of repair and he had just recently replaced his bowstring.
Setting them on the bed, Legolas then retrieved one of his long white knives from under his pillow—an old habit—and the other where it lay concealed in a drawer beside his bed. Some called it paranoia, others called it being prepared. Both blades were in perfect condition and he replaced them with a sigh in their sheaths on his quiver. He examined several other blades hidden around his room; all were fine except for one with a slight spot on the blade, which he carefully polished away.
Legolas then went down to the Royal Family's dining room, where they always had the morning meal together, and found his father, King Thranduil, and his mother, Isilendiel, already seated there.
Isilendiel turned and smiled at him, and Legolas started. There was something very familiar about that moment, something he felt he should know, but the more he tried to remember, the more it strayed further out of reach.
Legolas realized that his parents were staring oddly at him, and he quickly sat at his place on his father's left, smiling at them. "Sorry. I was…thinking."
Thranduil let the matter drop as servants brought out the meal of fruit and sweetbread. The meal progressed as normal for the small family, conversing with each other about anything and everything. Legolas kept his dreams to himself, for they were nothing of importance, or so he tried to tell himself.
Legolas dreaded the nightfall, for with it would come sleep, and with sleep would come the strange, repetitive dream and he would be unable to stop it. But still, night was inevitable, and Legolas found himself putting off rest for as long as possible. But the many sleepless nights prior took their toll, and he was soon walking through the peaceful woods again.
A growing sense of unease disturbed his walk and the sounds of nature gradually died out. Suddenly a shrill scream echoed off to his right and he ran toward the sound. As he drew nearer, he could hear the sounds of a scuffle along with the terrifying shrieks of delight from Orcs.
Coming to a small clearing, he could only watch in frozen horror as about a dozen Orcs attacked an Elf maiden. Her bright green dress was torn and she was bleeding from several minor wounds. She turned to look at him, and screamed his name. His eyes widened in horror as he recognized "Naneth!"
Legolas shot up straight in bed, breathing hard. It was still hours before dawn, but now he knew he could not sleep any more.
What did the dreams mean? To have such a dream was not usual, and for so many nights in a row? Was his mother in some sort of danger?
Legolas was unusually quiet that morning at breakfast, and his parents easily picked up on it. "Is there something wrong, Legolas?" Thranduil asked. The prince had barely even touched his food and appeared to be deep in thought.
Legolas started at the question and looked up to meet two concerned gazes. "No, nothing. I…was just thinking, that is all."
Isilendiel reached across the small table and grasped his hand. "You can tell us anything at all, ion nin," she smiled encouragingly.
"No, really, it is nothing." Legolas stood. "I must be going or I shall be late. I promised Arion I would meet him at the archery range."
Thranduil and Isilendiel watched in concern as he left. "He would tell us if something is wrong," the Queen assured.
"Maybe a maiden has finally caught his eye," Thranduil suggested, and they both laughed.
…………
Legolas cursed as his arrow met the target ever so slightly off center. Arion, his closest friend, watched with raised eyebrow. "My friend, what is wrong? Something is bothering you."
"Nothing," Legolas fairly growled, whipping out another arrow from his quiver.
Arion laughed out loud. "You cannot fool me that easily! Now tell me what it is, lest I resort to violence to force it out of you."
"You could not."
"Try me."
Legolas let off the arrow, this one missing the target completely. He growled in annoyance at his obvious distraction.
Arion watched in concern. He could hardly remember a time when Legolas had missed a target. "You look tired, mellon nin. Perhaps you should get some rest—"
"No!" Legolas jumped at his own answer, studying Arion for a reaction. The other looked startled, but then almost hurt.
"Legolas, you used to tell me everything. What is bothering you?" The prince finally relented. He had actually wanted someone to talk to, for the dreams had troubled him more than he wanted to admit. Arion led him over to a large fir tree, where they sat under the leafy boughs, waiting for Legolas to start speaking.
"I…have been having dreams lately." He looked at Arion as if expecting him to laugh, but the other Elf just motioned for him to continue. "They began as just a walk in the woods, then a scream, but they are getting longer every night. Last night I saw Orcs attacking someone. …It was my mother."
Arion winced in sympathy. He had lost both his parents a few hundred years before to Orcs, and now had only his sister left. "Well, I cannot say I know what to tell you. Perhaps you should tell your parents."
"No! I…I just do not want them to worry," Legolas reasoned. "The dreams probably do not mean anything anyway."
Arion was about to counter this obvious misunderstanding, but could tell at a glance that Legolas already knew so. He sighed. "Just promise me that you will tell someone if they get any worse."
"I already have," Legolas responded.
"Who?" Arion asked, surprised.
"You."
"Someone else, stupid." Arion shoved Legolas, who was caught off guard and toppled over.
"Well, fine, if you are going to beat me up about it." Legolas shoved Arion back, but the other was prepared and quickly retaliated. Soon they were both chasing each other over the palace grounds, cares and dreams forgotten for a while.
…………
That night, Legolas went to bed less anxious than normal, having been comforted by his talk with Arion. But the peace was short-lived as the dreams took on a more terrifying turn that night.
It began like all the others, just a peaceful walk through the woods, with a growing sense of unease. Then came the predicted scream, and he found himself running through the trees at top speed, towards the sound. He did not want to go, to see his mother in the hands of those vile creatures, to see her tortured gaze as she screamed his name. But he could not stop running; it was as if he was being propelled along by some other force.
He arrived at the clearing to find her again being attacked by the Orcs, already bleeding from several minor wounds. As if sensing his presence, she turned in his direction and screamed his name. But it did not end there.
An Orc, also noticing the new presence, grabbed her from behind while she kicked and struggled in vain. The Orc, apparently the leader, brought a blade to her neck, effectively halting her movements.
This served to snap the on looking Elf out of his stupor, and in an instant he had an arrow strung to his bow and aimed at the Orc. But he did not fire.
"Move, and I'll slash her throat," the Orc snarled. "Now put your weapons down and we won't kill her."
"No, Legolas! Do not! You cannot trust the creatures of darkness!" she shouted.
He hesitated. He could probably hit the Orc, but the risk was too great. Ever so slowly, he lowered his bow. "That's a good Elf," the Orc grinned. As soon as the bow was pointed down and held lax in his grip, three Orcs rushed forward to restrain him. The Orc leader grinned wickedly before bringing his blade sharply across the Elf-Queen's neck, then plunging it into her stomach.
The prince screamed in rage as his mother fell limply to the ground, her eyes wide in pained horror. Throwing off the Orcs clinging to him, he unsheathed his long blades and in a flurry of movement, had killed them. Several more of the vile creatures were dead before they realized what was happening.
The Elf warrior was a formidable foe on normal occasions, but now his movements were fueled by intense hatred and anger at those who had dared to hurt his mother.
The Orc leader never knew what had hit him as his head flew off his shoulders, landing several feet away from the rest of its body.
The Elf collapsed next to the bleeding form on the ground, casting away his bloodied knives and gathering her into his arms.
Blood was pouring freely from the neck and stomach wounds, streaming from between her pale lips. He pressed his hands over the terrible wounds, willing the furious bleeding to stop. But in his heart, he knew it was already too late.
Tears filled his eyes as she raised her pain-filled gaze to meet his. Her mouth moved, as if trying to form words, but nothing came. There was a wet gurgle from her throat and she went still, eyes glassed over.
"Naneth," he whispered. He sat there for what seemed an eternity, not moving, clutching the rapidly cooling body close, silent tears endlessly streaming down his face.
…………
Legolas woke with a strangled gasp, covered in a cold sweat. He raised a hand up to his face and let it linger there as he realized he was crying.
A million thoughts filled his mind. This was the first time the dream had ended. Was this Isilendiel's fate? Or was it just some silly dream born out of paranoia? Perhaps the dream did not even end there. Perhaps help came and saved her. Perhaps it would be all right, but the dream had cut off too soon.
But Legolas knew differently. He simply knew that that was all—there would be no miracle; Isilendiel was dead.
But that was only a dream, he told himself. It would not—nay, could not—come true.
Could it?
Why was he even having those dreams? Those same, terrible dreams, every single night. There had to be some reason. Yet he refused to believe it. It was easier that way.
A knock on his door suddenly pulled him out of his thoughts, and, with a start, he realized it was already past dawn. He quickly threw on some day clothes and smoothed his ruffled hair before yanking the door open.
There stood a servant with his hand poised to knock for the third time, and he quickly took in his prince's pale, untidy appearance with a raised eyebrow. Legolas merely stared at him expectantly and the servant finally spoke, "The King and Queen await your presence in the dining hall." It was a nice way of telling him he was late for breakfast.
"Tell them I shall be down momentarily," Legolas replied and quickly shut the door as the servant bowed and hurried away.
A few minutes later Legolas arrived at the small dining room, trying not to think about the disturbing dreams. But as soon as he saw Isilendiel, he could not help but relive her dream-death.
Food was already set on the table, and Legolas hastily seated himself, muttering his apologies for being late while avoiding his mother's gaze.
Thranduil and Isilendiel immediately noted their son's paleness and unusual silence, and—even though well hidden from anyone else—the touch of fear in his eyes. Laying all else aside as their parental instincts came into motion, they gently asked Legolas what was wrong. He replied with a lame attempt at denial.
The king and queen would certainly never fall for anything like that. Isilendiel rose and sat beside Legolas, grasping his hand. "Please tell us what is wrong, ion nin. Something is clearly bothering you."
Her close proximity both bothered Legolas and made him want to grab her and never let go, but he showed neither. Instead, he straightened in his seat where he had unconsciously slouched down a bit and offered her a small smile. "It is nothing. I merely had a hard time falling asleep last night."
Isilendiel looked skeptical, so he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her brow. "I am fine." The queen smiled and let the matter drop…for a while at least.
Legolas ate just to please his parents, who both watched him quite closely during the meal, and tried to act as normal as possible. Afterwards, he excused himself and hurriedly left to seek out Arion.
Legolas found him not long after, in the stables, brushing down his horse after a morning ride. "Arion," he softly caught the other Elf's attention.
Arion turned and smiled at his friend, the smile faltering as he noticed his disturbed countenance. "Legolas? What is it?" Something suddenly occurred to him. "It is not the dreams, is it?" Legolas nodded slightly, not really knowing what to say. "What did you see?" Arion asked gently, laying down his horse brush.
"Her death," Legolas whispered, so low it could barely be heard.
"Oh…Legolas…" Arion grasped the prince's arm. "You should tell them."
"Nay, my friend. I will not." Where before Legolas had nearly shouted his response, he now barely murmured it, but was just as insistent, if not more so. "It will only make her worry, and that is the last thing I want."
"Then do you want her to die?" Legolas looked up sharply at his friend's unexpected response, but Arion did not back down. "Perhaps it is some foreboding, some vision of the future."
"But why would I—"
"I do not have the answers to your questions, Legolas. But what if it is? What would you do if it turns out to be true? I would give anything to have had that chance with my parents." Arion let the last sentence escape as a choked whisper.
Legolas watched in surprise as Arion whirled and angrily stalked back over to his horse. Even after all those years the subject was still a painful one. "Arion…" Legolas walked over to his friend and lay a hand on his shoulder.
Arion only shrugged it off, then sighed. "I do not know what you want from me, Legolas. I can do nothing. You must help yourself."
"Arion, I am sorry—"
"Do not apologize. It is none of my business what you do about your dream. I do not even know if it really means anything. I just do not want you to get hurt, to experience that loss." Arion sighed again and stroked his horse's velvety nose.
Legolas finally broke. "I will tell, Arion, I promise I will. I will tell them everything."
Arion smiled slightly as he pulled the distressed Elf into an embrace. "Thank you."
…………
Despite Legolas's promise, it took two more nights of the exact duplicated dream, not growing any longer as expected, to drive him to approach his parents. The second morning after his talk with Arion, when Legolas met with his parents for the morning meal, he stood before them instead of sitting at the table as usual.
"Father, Mother," he began nervously. "Something has been bothering me for some time now." Thranduil waved away the servants with the food, sensing that this was personal, and nodded for Legolas to continue. "Well, I…have been having disturbing dreams for a while…" Legolas glanced nervously from Thranduil to Isilendiel, who watched him with worry.
"About?" Thranduil prompted after a few moments of heavy silence.
"Mother." Legolas tried to read his parents' reactions to his revelation, but could only see surprise. "Every night it got worse. It starts as I'm walking through the trees, then I hear a scream."
Thranduil and Isilendiel both now watched their son in worry, unease growing. So this was what had been bothering him every morning.
Legolas almost reluctantly continued. "I come upon a band of Orcs, attacking Mother." Here he paused as Isilendiel gasped quietly. "For the last three nights, I have seen her death." He looked up anxiously as the king and queen stared at him in silence.
After several long moments, Isilendiel rose and embraced him. "I am sorry."
Legolas closed his eyes, cherishing the moment as if it were his last. He quickly came up with a decision. "Mother, I do not want you leaving the palace, at least until the dreams end." He pulled back and studied her reaction—one of surprise. "Please, Naneth. I do not know what the dreams mean, but I do not want to take any chances. Please, for your own sake."
Thranduil also rose, joining his small family. "Legolas is right. I shall take no chances either. Even though no Orcs have been reported in the area, I wish you to stay inside the walls, where it is safe."
Instead of protesting, Isilendiel just smiled at her two overprotective "boys." "As you wish, loves." She kissed both of them, then, "Shall we eat?"
…………
Three more weeks passed by without any happenings, yet still the troubling dreams persisted. Isilendiel soon grew weary of being always inside the palace instead of outside, among the trees, where she belonged. But she did not say anything for the sake of her son, who worried enough about her already.
Legolas soon had to leave on patrol, just for a few days, and he made Isilendiel promise she would be safe until he returned. She had laughed but promised anyway.
But at last on the third day of his absence she could stand it no longer. Without saying anything to Thranduil, she passed alone through the outside Gates, though she made sure to stay close to the walls.
She breathed the fresh air deeply, laughing gaily. She had missed the free outdoors. Isilendiel would never admit it out loud, but she had often felt somewhat like a prisoner in her own home the last three weeks.
Her bright eyes glanced on a stray wildflower as she took in her fresh surrounding, and a bright smile lit her face. Legolas would be returning home the next day, and Isilendiel thought it would be nice to spruce up the palace with some fresh flowers.
She sang as she went, gathering the prettiest flowers she found and tucking them safely into a fold of her bright green dress. Finally she realized that she had wandered further than intended, and the palace walls were just visible through the trees.
She turned to go back, when another thought came to her. She remembered from long ago when she had once stumbled upon a small clearing full of the most beautiful shining flowers she had ever seen. She had not had a chance to return there, but she recalled that it was not far from here at all.
Isilendiel looked up at the sky through the trees. It was now only noon; she had plenty of time to get back to the palace before anyone noticed her absence. Quickening her step, she found the clearing within a few minutes. Her eyes lighted in joy as they came to rest upon the multitude of many-colored flowers.
She quickly gathered a few of each kind—short and long, purple and gold, dark and pale; and her favorite, the tall, slim nimerloth with the elegant white petals and fresh green stems.
Isilendiel carefully tucked the fragile blossoms into the fold of her dress, standing and turning to go. She stood still a moment, however, when she suddenly became aware of the heaviness in the air. She could almost hear a whispered warning among the leaves, and when she turned about again, what she saw made her scream.
…………
Legolas suppressed a smile as the trees seemed to wave a greeting. The patrol had gone easier than anticipated, and he and his few companions were returning home a day early.
The small company halted only an hour's walk from the palace to let their horses rest, for they had been pushing them hard. As Legolas gazed about at his surroundings, he thought they seemed strangely familiar. He had been through this part of the forest before, but it felt as though he should know from somewhere else. But the more he thought about it, the more it slipped away.
"Rosdîm," he called to his second in command. "Stay here. I shall be back shortly." He disappeared through the trees before the other could say anything.
All seemed normal at first until what few birds there were gradually hushed their singing and the trees halted their movements. An oppressive heaviness hung in the air, as if the entire forest were waiting for something.
Legolas's heart constricted painfully as he suddenly realized what was about to happen. He had her name on his lips as her scream rang through the trees, and he ran as fast as he could in the direction it came from. He could already hear sounds of a scuffle and the terrifying shrieks of delight from Orcs.
He burst upon the small clearing, but was struck immobile by the sight of a dozen Orcs attacking Isilendiel. Her bright green dress was torn and she was bleeding from several minor wounds. She saw Legolas run up and turned to him in desperation, screaming his name.
The Orcs, now also noticing Legolas, drew their weapons, and one, the apparent leader, placed his sword to Isilendiel's neck, halting her struggles. Faster than the eye could follow, Legolas had an arrow drawn and pointed at the Orc's head, but he did not fire.
"Move, and I'll slash her throat," the Orc snarled. "Now put your weapons down and we won't kill her."
"No, Legolas! Do not! You cannot trust the creatures of darkness!" Isilendiel shouted.
Legolas hesitated, his mind frozen. He could not believe this was actually happening. Everything so far was exactly as in his dreams. Maybe that was it—maybe this was all just another dream. But he knew that was not true. The hammering of his heart told him that much. He could feel the breeze on his face, could smell the Orcs and blood and flowers.
Still he hesitated. He knew what would come about if he dropped his weapons—if the happenings of dreams could be considered fact. But what if he did not? Perhaps they would still kill her. But surely his patrol would arrive soon with aid, then he would know what to do. But looking into the narrowed eyes of the Orc leader, he knew he was out of time.
Slowly, Legolas lowered his bow. The Orc grinned in satisfaction, and Legolas noted the way the beast's hand holding the sword to Isilendiel's throat relaxed just slightly. "There's a good El—" The Orc fell dead with Legolas's arrow between his eyes before he could finish.
Legolas quickly shot the two Orcs closest to Isilendiel before the rest of them were upon him. The Elf unsheathed his long white knives and brought them against the dark creatures as Isilendiel merely tried to stay out of the way. Suddenly more Elves appeared with bows drawn and within a few seconds every Orc lay dead.
The first thing Legolas did was rush forward to grab Isilendiel in a tight embrace, and he could feel her trembling. He held her at arm's length, quickly checking her over for any serious injury. "Are you alright?"
"Oh, yes, yes. I am fine. Just scratches," she quickly assured.
"What were you doing out here in the first place? You promised me you would stay in the palace exactly so this would not happen!" Legolas fairly shouted, worry making his voice harsher than intended.
Isilendiel smiled shakily, beginning to realize exactly how close she had come to death. "I guess you cannot change fate."
Legolas again pulled her against him, relishing the feel of her soft breath against his neck. "Yes, you can." She was still alive, was she not? Immense relief swept over him at this thought, and he felt tears well up.
"Rosdîm, bring the horses," Legolas ordered, and led his mother out of the clearing with an arm around her shoulders. He halted, however, as something on the ground caught his eye. He shuddered and quickly turned away. There was blood on the nimerloth.
The End. I do so hope you liked it. (I'm personally not very happy with it.) Here we have the little cameo of Rosdîm, a friend of Legolas, and Arion, Legolas's best friend, who are in several of my (so far unpublished) other stories. And Isilendiel too! I actually have a funny story about her name, but I won't bother posting it here. But to read it, and about some of the other characters and more info on upcoming fics, just check my LiveJournal. (link in my bio.)
Please review!