Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkien's works, nor would I ever pretend to.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Training

"You sleep with your eyes open now." She said as she came to him one morning a few days later. She usually came two times every day, once in the morning and once in the early afternoon. Sometimes more then that, but never less. He was able to eat on his own now, and he could feel life beginning to seep back into his weary limbs. She usually came and brought him breakfast. Then she would sit in silence and stare up at the star trees.

She always wore the same clothing, the same color. Black. He never noticed it before, but her hair was usually down, covering most of her face. He realized that he had never truly looked into her face, had always been drawn immediately to her captivating eyes. Eyes that shown and glared at him like fiery beacons. She didn't usually speak, sometimes she would mutter to herself. Sometimes she would speak to him, as she had done just before, with a smirk on her face.

She never smiled.

And he wondered, quite suddenly one day, why she had killed them. She was, of course, unlike any human had had ever met, but then again, she didn't act like a mass-murderer. She was really quite...ordinary, or as ordinary as one could be when they were like her. And he knew he hated her, could not kill the unquenchable feeling of hatred when he looked at her. And he knew that, when it was time, he would kill her. Sometimes she would draw her knees to her chest and hum something softly under her breath, but she wouldn't look him in the eye anymore. He didn't know what she looked like really. It was strange, but every time she had looked at him in the past, he had noticed only her eyes, haunting, fiery beacons in the darkness of the forest. Even the star-trees could not outshine them.

She spent most of her day somewhere out beneath the trees. But she also spent a good deal of her time with him. He slept most of the time, wearing down the poison and regaining lost strength. Sometimes she would put him to sleep with the blue powder crushed from the flowers. And then he would sleep, dreamlessly, for hours. And when he awoke, she would be gone.

Sometimes he would wake to that haunting voice drifting through the trees. Sometimes he would wake to silence. He was never cold, even in his weakened state, though it knew it had been rapidly approaching early winter when he had last left the palace in search of Gwenél. Yet here, under the star-trees, it was always the same.

She was silent now, as she usually was. She rose, moving away from him. Then she paused, as if debating whether or not to tell him something. She clenched her fists at her sides, her body growing tense. "I'm going." She said suddenly.

He looked up at her sharply, for this was the first time that she had spoken outright to him in days. She usually lest without a word, disappearing eerily beneath the leafy canopy. "You'll discover that you can probably move about now. Though I wouldn't recommend wandering...there are dangerous creatures about."

He didn't reply and she didn't say anything further. She disappeared beneath the trees as if she had never said anything at all. He sat there in silence for a few moments, pondering what she had said. Wander about? How could he wander about? Didn't she set his leg only a few short days ago? Or had it been days...he ground his teeth in irritation, living in such ignorance was driving him insane! He glanced at his injured leg. She had fashioned a sort of splint for it.

Here goes nothing. He clenched his teeth, and slowly drew his knee up to his chest. His eyes widened in surprise, yes, his leg still aches painfully, but not so much that he couldn't move it. Setting his face in concentration, he reached up with his good arm and grasped a branch from above him. Then, his muscles straining, he slowly slid his legs underneath his body, biting his lip as he began to put weight on the still tender injury. Bolts of pain began to drift upward and he looked up into the trees in agony as he forced himself to stand.

And he stood. Blinking, with beads of sweat dripping down his forehead, he wiped the sweat from his eyes and groaned as his legs shook beneath him. His knuckles were white from clutching the branch. He looked down, he was standing...this was it! He breathed heavily in relief, tasted blood where his teeth had tore into his lips. He refused to think on how pitiful his plight had now become, a struggle just to stand and a victory to feed himself on his own.

This was progress, however small, to his leaving this place and recapturing Saronedhel. He glanced around, there was no sign of the human or any signs of life at all. He took a step...and his legs buckled beneath him and he fell with a cry to his knees.

"Damn!" He swore angrily, could he not even walk? Perhaps with a little support...but not like this. His eyes suddenly fastened on a fallen branch not two feet away from his present position. It was large, pointed at one end but it would indeed hold his weight. He reached for it, and upon grasping it and positioning it upright at his side, he puled himself up. This time, walking was much easier. He took once hesitant, painful step, then another...then another. He leaned heavily on the stick...but he was really walking. He stopped, catching his breath and looking around the forest, trying to recall where exactly he was.

The star-trees where blue, a bright navy blue which shone in the early morning sun. He could see no distinguishable way out of the thicket of star-trees so he instead started walking. In no particular direction, he tried to move his leg as little as possible, thud avoiding the larger part of his painful ache. The forest was silent, there was not even a breeze drifting through the trees. Where had everyone gone? Where had she taken him?

Then suddenly, he heard footsteps. Well, actually they sounded a bit more like hooves...approaching rapidly in his direction. He stared hard into the depths of the forest, his prospects brightening considerably. If he could get a horse, it might make his quest of finding a way out of Saronedhel's lair much easier. He could get weapons...maybe even find out where she hid during her long absences. He could still hear the hoof-beats...but he could see no signs of any sort of beast. But they were coming distinctly closer...and closer...he had not even time to breathe when he suddenly saw a white blue flash past him.

The horse brushed passed him so closely that it knocked his weakened body to the ground. He cried out in pain, grasping wildly for his stick. Then he looked hurriedly for the horse...which turned out not to be so difficult to find. It...he...was big. Quite unlike any of the elven or mortal bred horses he had ever seen. It was very tall, with long legs and stocky hindquarters and shoulders. And his whole body was sprinkled with brown, black, and grey spots. The horse pawed the earth a few feet away from him.

He supported his aching, injured shoulder with his good hand and sat up, wincing as he did so. All these falls were defiantly not helping him heal any faster. The horse tossed his mane, snorting, then approached Legolas with his nose down and his ears pricked. The whites of his eyes showed giving him an intelligent and mischievous look, it made Legolas almost want to smile. Now the tip of he horse's muzzle was only a few inches away. He reached out to pat it but the horse snorted again and backed off.

He gripped his crutch tighter and painfully drew himself to his feet, the horse eyeing him warily as he did so. "Hello there." He said softly in the common tongue. It worked, the horse seemed less inclined to bolt as Legolas spoke, he twitched his ears back and forth, watching him curiously. Please just let me ride you...all right? He thought pleadingly. Just a short ride... dragging himself forward he reached out to touch the horse again.

The horse bobbed his head, knickering softly. "Good boy...good. How are you my friend?" His hand met the horse's velvety muzzle and as he began to stroke it, the horse breathed softly into his hand. He limped awkwardly over to the horse so soon he was at the great animal's side. He could feel the excitement starting to kindle inside of him. This was his chance, his first gleam of hope of defeating Saronedhel. He would pull himself onto the horse's back and discover a way out of here.

Reached up tentatively and braced himself to leap. However, he was not prepared for the ear-splitting whistle that suddenly filled the forest around him. The horse shied away from him, knocking him over and instantly bolting off in the direction of the whistle. Legolas fought to control his breathing as pain radiated from his leg and he rose shakily to his feet. He rubbed his forehead, blinking and looking blearily in the direction that the horse had run off into. He had been so close...and now he could taste his disappointment bitterly on his tongue, it was an overpowering sense of failure and he swore angrily.

He lowered his head, trying to calm his anger when he blinked in surprise. Tracks, the horse had left tracks behind. Of course! How could he have been so foolish? He was in luck, the horse's hooves had carved a perfect trail for him to follow and he set off upon it immediately, the flicker of hope still burning weakly within him.

It wasn't difficult to follow, though it was tiring on his weakened state. Yet not long after the horse had run off, he finally stopped, staring in amazement. It was a flet...or rather a series of flets that connected into one not too far from where he stood, in two large trees. There was a winding stair that led up to the flet and he found himself recalling Lothlorien to his mind. Only there was none of the beauty and grace that was evident in the work of Galadriel's elves. Here the whole structure was rugged, though he had to admit it did hold a beauty of its own.

The stairs were made up if winding, twisting roots- almost invisible to untrained eyes. It was a marvel...and he found himself wondering how she could have possibly done it. He didn't like to speak her name, it tasted vile on his tongue. Lover of Elves. It made him want to laugh.

"Might I remind you, Son of Thranduil, that it is I who has thus far saved your life. But at anytime I might also chose to take it."

"Why not then? Why not kill me?"

"Because I decided to save you. And I have."

He fought a scowl as he thought of her words. He heard a sharp breeze...well no...that wasn't quite the right way of describing it. It was the familiar sound of a blade striking thin air. Someone was training. He had heard that same sound countless times before...usually it was met by another blade with a clash of steel. He heard it again...and again. Swinging faster- he searched the wood before him with sharp eyes and upon finding no success, he started walking towards the tree once more. On the other side of the tree bearing the flet he found the source of the sword.

He remained quite still, blending in with the brush and the trees to the best of his abilities as he looked on. There was a small clearing, from which a series of ropes hung down from tree branches at every possible angle. And, in the center, there was a clear circle large enough for sword play. And there, standing in the center, was Saronedhel. He couldn't really distinguish her features, her long hair had been pulled back into a plait once more but some of it had come lose. She twirled, wielding the blade deftly with fluid movements. She swung, facing an unseen opponent with skill and ferocity. She twirled, lept, trust, and parried for several minutes, it was a considerable amount of time before he noticed the sheen of sweat which dampened her body.

Her long, hooded cloak was resting on a branch at the edge of the circle, and she was not dressed in her usual black leggings and a strange, long tunic that was long enough to be a dress and was belted off at the waist. It was sleeveless and form-fitting. She paused, breathing hard, and rolled her shoulders and her head at the same time. He could hear tense muscles cracking as she did so. She shook herself a little bit, then gingerly shifted the sword to her other hand. She swung it slowly, as if testing its weight once more. Then she swung it again, this time with slightly more intensity and with more confidence. And then she swung it again...and again.

The she paused, grimacing and lowering the blade. The look of pain passed swiftly over her features. She grit her teeth, he cold see the determination written in her face. She swung again...but the sword dropped suddenly from her hand as if she had been burnt by it and she stumbled, clutching her shoulder. Her face was twisted in pain as she did so, and she fell weakly to her knees, breathing deeply. She was silent for a few minutes, then she looked up, glaring accusingly at the sword. She stood up, still glaring, and picked up the sword with her good hand. She stood there, holding it tightly and then with an angry string of curses, she flung it...directly at where Legolas was standing.

His eyes widened as he saw the sword slice through the air at him, he ducked, falling out of the way just in time. The sword vibrated as it stuck in the tree just behind him, quivering due to the force of the blow as he stood up. She was staring at him, her eyes wide with surprise. But the surprise was a fleeting look and was quickly replaced by one of irritation and rage. Her face melted into a scowl and she marched over to him with her blue eyes blazing.

"What are you doing here?" She demanded angrily, eyeing his crude crutch and disheveled appearance.

He watched her carefully, weighing his words before he spoke them, "I wandered." He said briskly. He did not have to be ordered around by her. His life was his own, no matter what. Her eyes narrowed and she glanced over him again.

"How did you find this place?"

He didn't want to answer, he wanted nothing more to do with her, but there was no point in ignoring her. "I followed a horse."

Her eyes widened slightly, still emotionless. She pushed past him and with a powerful pull removed the sword from the rough bark. "Did you." She said softly. "Did you really?"

"What is this place?" He asked suddenly. He gestured to the flets and she scowled once more. She did not seem to like questions very much.

"This is my home." She said tersely. "And you shouldn't have followed Talorta here. Stupid horses...he'd let anyone follow him where-ever they pleased."

"What was I suppose to do, your majesty," He said in reply. "Wait under the trees for you to bring me company, food, and drink? I am a warrior, the son of-"

"Every damn elf in Middle-earth knows exactly who your father is." She retorted smugly. "And nobody cares." She added, she seemed to enjoy seeing the outrage creep into his fine features. She gazed at him serenely through intelligent, azure eyes. She glanced upward in alarm as a beam of sunlight fell through the trees and land upon her. She side-stepped the beam in haste, giving Legolas the distinct impression that she did not look kindly upon the sun.

She looked up at her flet, "I suppose I'll have to take you in now. Damn it." She sighed, then turned to him, glaring. "I'm assuming you've already seen the way up."

He nodded. "The roots." He said aloud to nobody in particular.

"You're a bright one." She muttered. She walked back to the training circle and grabbed her long black cloak. She slipped her arms through the sleeves and shrugged the rest of it onto her shoulders before she returned to where he stood and gestured for him to follow. She had long, quick strides and she did not look back to see if he was keeping up all right. He knew climbing the steps would be awkward using his crutch, and the sharp stick dug into his arm painfully. He was getting much better at using it, but his leg would still throb every once in a while, dulling his senses.

She glanced back at him, eyed his crutch with a stone-faced expression."Your stick might get caught." She said and he followed her gaze to his crutch.

"I'll make do." He replied cooly.

She shrugged and walked causally up the steps and disappearing as she reached the platform where the flets began about nine or ten feet off the ground. He managed to get up the steps without too much difficulty and found as he too reached the top platform that he was surrounded by star-flowers. He had to duck to get through a little arch of them and he emerged into a large room. It was airy, with a ceiling that twisted and curved as if from branches and vines. There were tables and a few chairs scattered about, some with massive piles of books lying, some open, most closed, and one with an inkstand, quill, and a neat pile of parchment.

What was most startling about the room how ever were the walls. Every inch was covered with weapons of every kind and make. Elf, man, dwarf, orc, even a little hobbit bow. But what made him boil with anger was that a majority of the weapons were from his own kind. Saronedhel was standing in a corner of the room. And there was a hearth empty of flames. She was drinking something thirstily, and she set down her wooden cup after a moment before she turned to speak with him.

"Made it up all right." Again, it was not a question, but a fact. He regarded her with cold fury, his hands tightening on the wood of his crutch. "Where did you get these?" He said.

She glanced briefly at the walls, smirking she did so. "A prize from every enemy I've conquered." She caught his gaze, her blue eyes flashing. "Each one was dearly bought."

He felt himself shaking, a burning monster roaring and screaming inside of him. "These are the weapons of my people."

She smirked again. "They didn't need them anymore."

He hated her. He hated her.

"Don't worry. I haven't forgotten to add yours." She pointed to the hearth and there, position predominately above it was his bow, a gift from Galadriel, quiver, and two white fighting knives. No. He glared at her, hating every part of her. Enraged he let out a cry and rushed for her. Her eyes were lit with pleasure, as if she had been waiting for his attack. She avoided it easily as his awkward steps rushed at her. And, before he could even try to find her again, light and pain erupted in the back of his head and everything went black.

Again, all mistakes are mine though Kiann, my beta, managed to weed out most of them. :) I just went to go see The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe again. I love that movie...I realized the other day that I was a fan of Narnia before I even heard of LotR. Strange how that works aye? I have two great Narnia fanfics swirling around in my head now just dying to get out onto paper. :)

My finals are FINALLY (lol) over and now I have a whole month off to relax and to WRITE WRITE WRITE:) Thanks everyone for all your reviews...they gave me warm, fuzzy feelings inside. :)

Oh, and Melissa, did you like my new adjective? I felt like I had a mission to find a new adjective: azure. Ah, (nudge nudge) How was that:)

Thanks to everyone who reviewed and in case I don't get another chapter up before next week, Merry Christmas and God Bless:)

TO BE CONTINUED...