Disclaimer: I own none of Tolkien's creations and only lay claim to my own humble creatures.
Chapter Quote: "He saved you...that's impossible."
ANNOUNCEMENT! SAFE IN MY ARMS HAS OFFICIALLY REACHED THE 300 REVIEWS MARK THANKS TO: Daughter of Arabia. AND A HUGE THANK YOU TO ALL MY WONDERFUL READERS WHO BLESS ME WITH THEIR REVIEWS! THANK YOU!
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Mysteries
He groaned as he awoke, his head throbbed painfully, erasing all other thought from his mind. He blinked, his tranquil, sleep-like trance broken. He frowned in confusion, where were the trees? The glittering flowers? He had become so used to looking up at them that their disappearance was rather disturbing. He was in a house, this he realized as he stared up at the ceiling. The many tree branches woven together to form protection from the outdoor elements. He propped himself up on his good arm and suddenly felt her cold hands on his leg.
He jumped, slightly startled. She was hovering over him, dressed in her usual black garments. She glared daggers at him as he stared. "Will you lay still? This is hard enough with out you squirming." She muttered.
He blinked again in confusion, watching as her hands deftly probed his leg. "What are you doing?" He asked hoarsely.
"Removing the splint." She replied, not meeting his gaze.
He blinked again, slowly trying to recollect where he was and how he had gotten here. Why was it so hard to remember? Then it hit him, full force leaving him breathless and enraged. He struggled to get up, but found his arms tied tightly to the bed upon which he was laid. She looked up at him, a smirk on her face.
"Did you really think it would be that easy?"
He stared at her in disbelief, the anger raging inside of him, and only moments after she had uttered those words then he had taken his good leg and kicked her ferociously in the face with his booted foot. The blow caught her unawares and therefore sent her reeling back with a hand over the left side of her face. She regained her balance as she turned to him. Her eyes were blazing with fury, her nose was bleeding and looked possibly, and hopefully, broken. A cut had been smashed into her forehead, just above her right eye.
"Don't you touch me again." He growled, his body straining against his restraints. She reached up and gingerly touched the cut above her eye.
"You don't seem to understand a lot of things, princeling." She said flatly. "And one of those things," She said, approaching him again. "Is not to bite the hand that feeds you." With a vicious twist she jabbed her fist into the uncovered portion of his wounded leg.
Light blinded him from the back of his eyes and he cried out as pain erupted in his head.
"I think perhaps you need to think some things over, dear prince." Saronedhel said as she worked on removing the splint. "You will be here for either a very long time, or for a very short one. I would be careful as to which you choose." She said, as she finished removing the splint and placed it down on a table beside her. She looked up into his face, blood pouring from her nose and down the side of her face. "For the manner in which you leave truly what determines that choice. Only one will bear you out of my forest alive."
"Go ahead, kill me." He snarled, the memories of his dead warriors, Aragorn, and the weapons lining her wall blazing about in his mind. "I would rather die then accept further hospitality from a murderer."
She stopped, staring at him through blue eyes raging with the anger one expects to see before the life is struck from your body. Her right eye was streaked with blood. "Murderer?" She asked softly. "A murderer am I?" Her gaze traveled from his face to his tunic, before resting on the medallion which rested on the bare portion of his chest. "So much grief and anger over so small and thing." She murmured. "Such a little thing." She met his gaze again. "You want knowledge from me about how I received that medallion...don't you?"
He had no words to say as the hope inside of him fluttered deep within his chest. The hope fighting anger as he thought of Faerlian.
"You want to know how I received so precious an artifact? Well, dear prince, that's all well and good. But I should like to know first... how did you get it? Hm? And how did you lose something that obviously meant so much to you?"
He was caught off-guard by her question, found himself trying to dig up the answer. Had it been so long ago? "It was given to me by my mother...before she died."
Saronedhel sneered. "Elves don't die."
"She did." He answered flatly. "A lot of us do."
There was no emotion in her eyes and she flinched, ever so slightly, before her eyes narrowed and she neared him. "Gave it away?" Her body was only inches from him now. "A medallion that you ordered me executed me for stealing?"
"You were ordered executed because of your crimes as an assassin." He said, growing irritated that he had to explain himself to her.
"Oh, yes. That business. How could I have forgotten? I think you knew what my true crime was though, didn't you Prince Legolas?" She hissed his name as if it were venom on her tongue. "Then why did you give it away?"
She stared at him again, her eyes unblinking as she smirked at him, and he hated her. Oh how he hated her! "It was given to a friend, as a reward for saving my life."
"Ha!" She screeched. "Seems you just can't take care of yourself dear prince, is that it? Is that why the mortal man follows you about like a puppy? Is he your puppet princely? Your chew toy?" He pulled again at his restraints, so hard that he grimaced as pain shot up through his still tender arm. She leaned forward so that her face was only inches away from his own. "Tell me...what happened to your friend?"
"You killed him!" He shouted! "That's what happened!"
Her eyes narrowed and the smirk faded from her lips. "Two can play at this game, princey. I killed him aye? All right then...what was his name?"
Was she admitting to murdering Faerlain? Would she truly answer his endless questions now? He closed his eyes, now wishing her to see his eagerness, his hope. Maybe she would leave him alone...maybe he would soon be well enough to get out of here...maybe then...he could kill her.
"Faerlain." He said softly, suddenly too weary to fight back. He opened his eyes and relaxed against his binds, he was already half sitting up, but he had to fight the want to lay back down and to disappear into the dreamless state of sleep. But as he watched her, Legolas had not expected her reaction to that name. What he had expected what a snappish retort, a victorious claim, maybe a bit of gloating. But she didn't do anything like that. Instead her face blanched and he watched as the blood drained leaving her a sickly, pale, and disbelieving sight.
"What did you say?"
"Faerlain." He repeated, confused by her actions.
She jerked away as if struck by a blow. "How did you know him?" She whispered, her blue eyes filled with horror.
"I told you." He said irritably. "He saved my life."
She blinked. "He...he saved you?" She said softly, she wiped away the blood from her nose, then brought her hand to her temples and massaged them gently. "That's impossible." She murmured. She looked back at him, saw him weakly straining against his binds.
But there was no anger in her eyes, only pain...and death. She rose, withdrew and dagger from its sheath on her hip and cut the ropes in one, fluid movement. Stumbling backward as if struck, she ran drunkenly from the room and slammed the door behind her, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
Eryn Lasgalen (Mirkwood) Palace
Three Weeks Previous
All Aragorn could remember of the orc attack was that his company had indeed been attacked by orcs. He had been on the ground, out ahead and Legolas had stopped his horse snappishly answering his guards inquires with, "Don't you hear it?" Aragorn had not heard anything at first...had only stared in confusion as the elves had begun to search dazedly around them, and that was when he had finally heard it. A sweet, haunting melody that whispered through the trees and blew lightly around the still figures of the enchanted warriors.
And he had been one the first to hear a new sound...footsteps, iron-clad footsteps. The orcs has come so swiftly that there had been no time to retaliate, no time to defend themselves. Aragorn had felt something twinge painfully in his shoulder...and that was all he could remember.
He had awaken in one of the many wards of the Palace Infirmary, aching, but still very much alive. He was slightly weak and sore, but was able to limp around to inquire as to the fate of his company...and of his dearest friend. Only one other elf from the original band of seven had survived, and only just barely. He had received serious head injuries and also a severe severing to his left arm. But he had slung Aragorn to the last remaining horse and had managed to bring them both back to the palace safely.
The elf was healing much faster then Aragorn's own, aging and throughly mortal body, would ever allow. The elf had told Aragorn that after he had been struck down, the orcs had slung the unconscious body of the Prince over their horny backs and disappeared into the depths of the forest. The warrior had searched for survivors among his comrades, but the orcs had been brutally skilled in their work and the only survivor he had found laying among the dead had been Aragorn, lying still with a bashed forehead and an arrow shaft in his shoulder.
The healers patched Aragorn up well enough so that he could discover all of this shortly after he had indeed awoken...but they could not heal the ache deep inside of him. He had left Legolas behind...had left him to the orcs. And the worst part was that the trail they had been following had vanished...and there was no longer any signs of a struggle in the clearing where the fight had taken place. It was if nothing had ever happened there...not even the dead remained.
So he would have to set out to find Legolas...and he would have to trek back through the forests of Eryn Lasgalen and travel deep with the ghost's territory...again. Only this time, Legolas wouldn't be there to help him.
Eryn Lasgalen Palace was just as regal as he had always remembered it. It had not passed into decay as Lothlórien had begun to after the departure of Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel. The halls were decoated with leafy vies and flowers of subtle greens and tans. But the rooms were adorned exquisitely with precious gems and jewels. With eloquent tapestries and marble statues proclaiming the glory of those who had long since passed from these halls. Thranduil had always been a great lover of the finer elements in his long life and had always been a collector of pearls, jewels, and the finest silver and gold that he could get his hands on.
Perhaps he could be called greedy, but he was a just king who had always ruled his subjects with a wise hand. Eryn Lasgalen had only been in peace for a few years since the end of the War of the Ring...and this trouble with the orcs was only an all too frequent reminder of the older days...of darker days when Eryn Lasgalen had still been called Mirkwood.
Aragorn limped painfully down the long hall to the throne room. Thranduil had requested his presence to discuss Aragorn's plans for the search for his son...a search that had failed twice in the two weeks that Aragorn had been bedridden. It was a time that had been far too long. The doors were thrown open before he even touched the fine brass handles and he self-consciously rubbed his aching shoulder, his arm resting limply in a sling.
Thranduil was not seated on his throne as Aragorn had expected him to be, instead the elven king was hunched over some maps with an elven main at his side. Curious, he moved closer, he did not announce his presence for he knew the elves had heard his arrival as soon as the doors had swung open. Thrandul looked up, his thin, silver crown rested upon his head, his hair was the color of the finely polished gold he treasured so much. There was a frown on his regal face as he gazed at him.
"Lord Aragorn." Thranduil said, inclining his head at the human king, a sign of respect which Aragorn imitated. "I trust you are healing well then?"
"Your healers have patched me up excellently, my Lord. I shall be my old self again in time."
"Good...very good." He gestured to an elf standing along the wall and the elf joined them swiftly and silently.
"Your message to Queen Arwen has been sent, Lord Aragorn. 'You wish to stay in Eryn Lasgalen a while longer and to send for Lord Faramir to take charge of the city until your return.'"
Aragorn nodded, "Thank you, that is correct. Please notify me as soon as the message has been replied to."
"Your message was borne by our swiftest riders, milord. It shan't be long now." The elf inclined his head to Aragorn, then to Thranduil, and then walked away.
"I have heard that you intend to send out another search party before the new moon, Aragorn." Thranduil said, dropping his tone of formality and addressing the human king not in a condoning way, but as an equal.
"Sooner then that I should think." Aragorn replied. "I intend to leave within three days time."
Thranduil's tone darkened and he frown deepened. "I know you are healing fast Aragorn, but my healers have informed me that your arrow wound was poisoned. You are not one of the fair folk, a journey this soon could be jeopardizing for you."
Now it was Aragorn's turn to frown. "With all due respect sire, I have stayed away from the forest far too long as it is. I must depart quickly."
"I can send out some of my own people in your stead..."
"Milord, I was I who escaped that ambush. And it is your son who is now in the hands of such brutal enemies."
Thranduil nodded, "The trail has been erased from the attack, are you sure that you can track them? You will have to go deep into the ghost's territory, and despite what I may have said in the past, she is a dangerous enemy."
"I can track them fine and it is this ghost that I fear the least. Besides, she does not have the same effect on my as she did on your warriors. If we meet again I believe that I have a better chance of escaping her then would any of your people."
Thranduil pursed his lips and nodded. "Very well, I had though you would say as much." He gestured to the maps which were spread out on a table in front of him. "As I said, you will be going deep into the ghost's territory looking for orcs who have a habit ambushing without warning. Because of this I will be sending a larger force out with you."
"I think it would be better if I took a smaller group out milord, fewer men slip through a large forest more easily."
"As you wish." the elven king replied. "You may hand-pick your men and take any supplies you need from out store houses. And I have taken the liberty of hiring a guide for you."
Aragorn blinked in surprise. "A guide?"
Thranduil turned to the main who stood beside him. "May I present the Lady Araviniel."
The maiden was pale with long, dark tresses. Her eyes were a strange green, an unusual color for an elf. She was tall and slim, and her clothing, which consisted of a simply gown, was all black. She curtsied to him, her face emotionless as she did so. "Milord." She said.
"Lady Araviniel has recently returned from scouting out our borders. She is familiar with the northern parts of the forest and has been exploring them for a number of years now." Thranduil continued.
The Lady met his inquiring gaze with a frosty stare. "Exploring the northern territory? An unusual task for an elven maid." Commented Aragorn, his eyes still meeting hers.
"An unusual task for an unusual maid, milord." She answered quietly, folding her hands together and dropping her gaze.
"She knows the forest better then most and I believe she will be a great asset to you."
Aragorn nodded, curbing his doubts about the elven maid who was to guide them through so dark a part of the forest. "Will you be ready to leave in three days time?" He asked her.
"I am ready now milord." Her eyes were roaming and Aragorn received the impression that her emerald orbs did not miss much.
"Very good then." Conceded Thranduil. "If you have no luck with your search in three weeks time, or if we receive no word from you, I shall send out reinforcements. Understood?"
"Perfectly milord, now if you'll excuse me."
"Of course."
"King Thranduil." He inclined his head. "Lady Araviniel."
"Oh, and Aragorn-" The King added, Aragorn looked into his face as the elf placed a firm hand on his arm. "Bring my son home." He said softly.
"I will do my best Lord Thranduil." Aragorn replied, the king released him and Aragorn inclined his head once more. "I shall see you both again shortly."
A/N: I have struck a cord for Victoria, at last, I bet all you really wanted to see her crack. :) How'd you like her confrontation with 'princey' as she called him? I know some most of you are rather anxious for Legolas to find out that Victoria didn't kill the villagers of Gilloth but I can only tell you that it will all be in good time...in a manner that you will not expect. (grins evilly)
Thanks again for everyone who read and reviewed, my hope for this story is that it will hit 400 reviews...but I won't cry if it doesn't. So if you are a silent reader, any review would be appreciated! Good or Bad! Praise or Crap:) I will update soon! Happy New Year and Merry Christmas all! I LOVE YOU:)
TO BE CONTINUED...