Disclaimer: I own none of Tolkien's creations and only lay claim to my own humble creatures.

Chapter Quote: "You are the maid...aren't you?"

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The Maid

Eryn Lasgalen

Saronedhel's Flet

The room Legolas entered was quite unlike any other he had ever seen. Stumbling in and wincing as he put unwanted weight on his leg, and blinking in the blinding light, he placed a hand in front of his eyes and his vision slowly reappeared. He was in a smaller room now, with light streaming into the room in all sorts of colors from stained glass on the ceiling. The blinding light was from a window on the far wall that was, on closer inspection, the color of blood red.

He gazed around in wonder- the arrows he had seen in the previous room lined the walls forming a kind of border. But what was most striking about the room was the murals that decorated the walls. More red light shone in from above upon them, giving the murals an eerie quality. There was a large, rectangular table in the center of the room with papers and pens scattered across it; in another corner there was a small bed. The room in size was smaller then the one which had held Saronedhel's trophies, but larger than the one he had just escaped from.

There were pots full of varieties of liquid colors and a number of soiled brushed laying about. He walked further in, his eyes drawn to the murals once more. They covered the entire room save for where the arrows bordered the room...some of the murals even continuing onto the floor when there had been no more room on the wall itself. He walked toward one of the murals and found himself looking into the painted face of a young maiden. She was dancing in a forest of twilight, the colors of a sunset bursting beneath her feet in a rainbow of crimson, reds, orange, yellows, violets, and royal blues. The leaves above her had only just changed their color. Tears were flowing from her cheeks as she danced, fair hair whipping about her face and veiling her eyes as she twirled, barefooted, among the towering trees.

His gaze wandered, there was the maiden again, on a white horse...or what appeared to be white. Blood flowed from wounds on her body, staining her dress. There was a fog, strange shapes littering the ground. He moved along, coming closer to the mural. There was this one particular shape in the fog...the light around him dimmed for a moment...he snatched a candle, still burning furtively on the table; his curiosity burning as brightly as the flickering flame. He held it up to the wall, coming nearer. He squinted, brought the candle up to his eyes.

He recoiled in shock as the objects in the painting became suddenly clear. The severed head of a horse, blood flowing from it and staining the earth. He looked again, frantically searching for something else to avert his attention. But then there were more. More horses...and bodies. Bodies twisted and deformed. Rain causing their blood to form rivers in the streets. He stumbled back...trying to escape but they were everywhere. His arms were red...why were his arms red?

...the blood...

...the blood...

He clawed at his arm, but there was still more. He stumbled backward, stumbling over pots as he fell hard to the floor.

And there she was again, dark hair clinging to her face. Blood pouring from her side as her gown, now saturated with rainwater, clung to her body and out-lined her well-muscled form. Blood staining the sword...blood in her eyes...and the bodies...bodies everywhere...

"What are you doing?" Asked a voice hoarsely from behind him. The door opened as standing just in front of it was the elf-slayer. Her proud figure hunched and death in her eyes.

"What have you done?"

Eryn Lasgalen

Deep Within the Forest

The trail of blood had led them deep into the northern most parts of the forest. And then there was her eyes...something in Araviniel's depth less green eyes...something in the barren trees that whispered and urged for them to hurry.

"Do you believe in ghosts?" Aragorn asked of her as they continued on. Mounted and spying the trail easily from horseback, she turned to him with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"I have lived too long and seen too much to believe in such things." She said. "Would not my mother and brother have come to see me if the Valar permitted such things to occur?"

"I do not think it is so simple." The king began after he had digested her words. "But then you do not believe in Gwenél?"

"I believe in what I can touch, milord. Tangible things: soil, tracks, hair, plants. Ghosts are as much living as the rest of us. No different."

"Believe in what is proven...does that not go against what the Valar teach?" Aragorn asked as he thought on what she said.

"Perhaps." She said vaguely. "Perhaps not. It is difficult for me to believe in many things anymore."

They remained silent for a long while after that, the horses hooves plodding against the earth as their surefooted feet found the sure paths through the thick underbrush.

It would be dark soon.

It wasn't long before they found the note. The next day, at dawn, they rode out and by midday it had started to snow, only lightly the hour that they had discovered the ancient piece of parchment. Araviniel had read it silently to herself before handing it off to the king and, in a hand that wrote shakily he read these words:

Strangers:

You are foolish to wander so closer into danger. Have you not fallen into a trap such as this before? Be warned: danger lies at your feet- do not let it jump up and smite you. Turn back before worse should occur. It would be such a pity for more blood to stain this earth. What you lost before you shall lose once more...and I shan't warn you again.

Gwenél

Folding the parchment within his tunic, Aragorn briefly told his men their current situation before, with grim determination written on the faces of their company, they pressed on. Still it snowed, and though lightly as before, Aragorn could distinctly see that the elven maid before him was slowing until, as the snow began to whirl ferociously about them, she stopped with a moan of disappointment.

"It is no use!" She exclaimed in irritation. "The snow had become too thick...I've lost the trail."

Aragorn fought the instinct to shudder as these new events began to mirror those that had claimed the lives of five since dead warriors and the resulting capture of his closest friend. He gritted his teeth and a scowl appeared on his usually serene features. No...it would not happen again. He would not let it happen again. Araviniel had turned to him and he was startled to see so forlorn desperation in her green eyes. She quickly blinked the emotion away as she met his gaze and become a mask of stone once more .

"What do we do now?" He asked softly, mostly to himself as his thoughts scrambled to find another course of action. "We could backtrack to the clearing...but it won't get us far."

"We are deep within Gwenél's territory." Araviniel said quietly. "We must move with caution."

"I thought you didn't believe in ghosts." Aragorn said, training his eyes upon the way she kept nervously fidgeting with her hands. The slender, pale fingers were tapping a silent beat on her thigh or were otherwise employed pulling at the hem of her tunic. The snow was falling harder now...it would soon be up to the horses' knees at this rate.

"What is it?" He asked her, eyeing her as her eyes darted to and fro into the forest.

"What you lost before you shall lose once more." She said softly, repeating a line from the letter. "What you lost before you shall lose once more."

"We should move on, milord." Said one of the Rangers behind him. A twig snapped somewhere in the forest and they all fell silent.

Araviniel dismounted, rubbing her mare's neck and nearing one of the trees as she unsheathed two knives. "They're close." She said, gingerly touching the bark of the tree, and looking up into its canopy.

Aragorn dismounted and followed her lead, nearing her with hurried footsteps. "Close to whom?" He asked softly from beside her.

She sniffed the tree bark and lowered her hands to her sides. She dropped the knives and slowly removed her bow from her shoulders and fitted an arrow to it. Suddenly sensing danger, he walked ahead of her and unsheathed his sword, gesturing for the others to prepare themselves.

"Do you not know?" She whispered in reply to his question. He glanced back at her and she nodded at him, pointing her bow upwards towards the sky. The snow continued to fall as the others began to dismount. There was no time to fight back.

One of the horses reared and the rest shifted about nervously in fright. He heard Araviniel's arrow fly from the bow with a sharp twang, heard it whistle fly further from them. He thought he heard a scream pass through Araviniel's taunt lips, and he felt something hard blast pain into his skull...and that was all.

And the snow whirled as the horses screamed...and the snow whirled...the dark scarlet staining the snow

.

Saronedhel's Chambers

Legolas didn't know how to answer her as she neared him. She was clutching her shoulder, her eyes were red and swollen from tears. But there was such malice in her face...such hatred that for a moment he could bring no words to his lips.

"How did you get in here?" She hissed, wiping angrily at tears that still dared to trickle down her pale cheeks as she fully entered the room. She stumbled drunkenly, gathering up the pots he had knocked over and picking up papers that had fallen to the floor.

"You are the maid aren't you?" He asked softly.

She stopped her wild actions and turned to face the murals, her back facing him. She looked up at one, traced the tears of the dancing maid with her finger tips. Her hand slid down the wall, curling into a fist as she did so. She leaned against it, her body heaving for air.

"Were you?" He persisted, rising painfully to his feet in order to look at her.

She was silent for a long time then, ever so slowly, she turned to face him. Had there always been that long scar running down her left cheek? Had he never noticed it before now? She glared weakly at him, and bowed her head. "Yes." She whispered. "I was...a long time ago." Silently she drew herself up, stared at the mural, and with a look of unexplainable rage she threw her fist into the wall. The mural held firm, but he could almost hear the skin on her knuckles tear as she withdrew it, her hand shaking. She whirled suddenly to him, her eyes blazing.

"Get out." She hissed, her eyes blazing with anger.

He wished to say something defiant...to show her that he would never do anything she said ever again. But before he could utter a single word she was screaming at him.

"GET OUT! GET OUT OF HERE!"

He stumbled backward in surprise, startled by her words. He was at the door now, staring at her as she cradled her shaking, bleeding hand. She didn't look at him again. She glanced at the murals once more and then, slowly, sank to the floor. Her frame, clothed in black, shook with sobs. She hid her face in her hands as the tears started to flow. And that was all Legolas saw as he retreated from the room and closed the door.

Legolas wandered the house after his encounter with Saronedhel. The other two doors in the circular room were locked so that left him with only one to explore which ended up leading to the great hall were her trophies lined the walls with tales seeping of betrayal, hurt, and doom. From there he limped out into the yard, stood a few feet away from the training circle as he got his weapons in order, the ones he had retrieved from their spot above the hearth. The knives were fine and his bow and arrows in excellent condition. He frowned at the arrows' presences in his quiver, or lack thereof, was a sharp reminder that he did not belong here.

Presently he heard hoof-beats coming his way and he looked up. He wasn't at all surprised by the appearance of Saronedhel's strange, spotted horse. And, cooing softly to the animal in the ancient tongue of his people, he persuaded the stallion to come forward. He found a smile forming upon his lips as the horse gently nudged his side and nipped at his long, dis-arrayed locks that fell in tangles around his shoulders, creating a welcome diversion for his thoughts at hand.

Like, for instance, how he was suppose to escape from a murderer who was, quite possibly, thoroughly insane. The horse nudged him again, sniffing him curiously as one does to test the condition of an overripe piece of cheese. There were still no answers...he hated that.

"Were you the maid?"

"Yes...I was. A long time ago."

Was she finally admitting then to murdering the people of Gilloth and countless others who had crossed her path? The horse nudged him once more, as if telling the lazy elf to get moving. Legolas smiled as he stroked the horse's sleek neck. Talorta knickered appreciatively at this new found source of pleasure, seemingly unaware that this strange elf was his mistress' prisoner, he began to nuzzle Legolas affectionately. The grin came unbidden to his lips once more.

"At least she treats you well, aye?"

The horse bobbed his head and then, quite suddenly, the horse backed a few steps away from Legolas and, bending on knee, he slid his other leg out in front of him and did something that looked remarkably like a bow. Legolas chucked in astonishment.

"When did you learn that? Talorta...that is your name...isn't it?" The horse made no reply, only stared up at the elf with dark eyes. The idea came rather swiftly into his mind then. It caught him rather off-guard actually. But, starting forward with determination, he patted the horse cautiously and the large, white head turned to him and gazed at him with eyes that gave no hint as to what it was thinking.

Seeing as the horse gave no objection, in one, fluid movement, he slid onto the horse's broad back and the horse straightened up as if on cue.

"Well...that went a lot smoother then last time." He commented wryly, stroking the horse's neck and glancing around in curiosity and wondering what exactly he was to do next.

My tears fell in torrents, pain lancing through my body in lightning shocks. He had seen my paintings...and I had seen the horror in his pale, grey eyes. Yes. I was the maid. And I was innocent, but my pleas had fallen on deaf ears...they always have. Sniffing, my eyes ran over the overturned pots, my paint forming puddles of a multitude of colors across the floor. Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I crawled over to the pots and started to fix them. I rose, my thin form hunched. How far have I fallen? I asked myself. When did I turn into this...this monster? I sniffed again, and my mind began to go numb as I turned my gaze to the window on the far side of the room.

I approached it, grateful for the stained glass that veiled me from the sunlight. I scowled as I saw Talorta nuzzle Legolas. Damn that stupid horse! I ground my teeth in frustration, and then my eyes bulged as Talorta bowed for him and Legolas swung his lean frame onto my stallion's strong back.

"No!" I hissed sharply, whirling and flinging the pot in my hand against one of the murals where it shattered into pieces. The paint had been black, and it ran down the face of the maid on the wall in rivers...resembling poisoned, spidery veins. I ran from the room, knocking one of the doors that led into my grand trophy room clear off its hinges as I scraped my way through the flet until I was outside.

Talorta snorted in alarm as I approached but Legolas...Legolas only met my gaze, and stared.

She was enraged...far angrier then he had ever seen her. Talorta watched his mistress warily until she stopped just a few feet away, then he lowered his head as if to greet her.

"I shall speak to you later." She growled to the horse and the elven prince cocked his head at this curious behavior. The horse, whose head was now down so low in what almost looked like shame that his muzzle now brushed the leafy earth. She fixed her gaze upon Legolas, her eyes cold and full of fury. "You found your way out, and you have befriended my horse, princey." She said softly.

Her voice was flat, though he could see the fire burning within her eyes. The rage at his having succeeded at something, when the only thing she wanted was his failure. "I won't stay here." He said in reply. "I won't wait for death from an insane elf-slayer."

Her eyes glinted. "Insane am I?" She turned to Talorta, stroked his spotted neck. "Perhaps." She whispered a short word to the horse and without warning, the horse bucked once and then slid into an abrupt bow that caught Legolas so off-guard that he tumbled right over the horse's neck and onto the ground. He never had a chance to recover after that for she was on top of him in an instant. Her eyes ablaze and her face contorted in anger.

"Insane, dear prince? Am I?"

He struggled from underneath her as she scratched and struck him until he finally stilled when he felt the cold touch of a knife at his throat. He stared up at her, her body straddled on top of his and one of her booted feet digging into the tender flesh of his injured leg.

"I tried to tell your kind the truth...but you elves just don't like to hear the truth very much...do you?"

"I don't know what you are talking about." He said darkly.

"Don't you? Don't you know how many times I have been captured afer Gilloth was slaughtered? How many times they questioned me? Beat me? Do you really think you were the first who chose to come after me? Hmm?" She pressed the knife harder to his throat and he winced as he felt warm blood trickle down the side of his neck. He had never even heard about the tragedy of Gilloth until his return home. Could see really be speaking truth to him? Had his father really searched for her for so long? He wanted to avert her fiery gaze from his own, he could feel his skin prickle as her hatred radiated from her. Then, suddenly, she looked away and he followed her gaze as the two heard a sound that sounded distinctly like an arrow striking the earth...which, indeed, it was.

It was one of her own arrows, he recognized it's design to be similar from those on the walls of that circular room. Intricately decorated with a black shaft, and a message attached to the tip. She narrowed her eyes at the letter and then she glanced at him. Her lip raised into a snarl as she removed the knife from his neck.

"Don't get any ideas." She said sharply as she reached for the arrow, tugged it free from the earth and then removed the message, seemingly unaware that he had his own weapons now, and would not be caught off-guard again. Her eyes flew across the parchment and, in doing so, her sickly, white features took on a hint of green. She shook her head, the scowl returning and she glared frantically at him with blue eyes wide. "Where is the medallion?" She asked lowly.

His brow knit in confusion as he too stood and met her inquiring gaze. It was a silly questionIt was about his neck as it always was, it never left its place on his chest. But there was something in her eyes...a brink between asking a simple question and verging on insanity. His hand inched to his neck with a growing sense of panic...the medallion was gone.

He gave a start, looking down frantically and searching the folds of his tunic. "It's gone! The medallion is gone!" He said, now turning to her in a breathless sense of loss. Her stared at her accusingly. "What did you do with it?" He demanded angrily. "Where did you take it.?"

She seemed taken aback, and after she regained her composure she looked at the note. "Foolish elf." She muttered darkly. In a bout of confusion brought on by this transaction, in a startlingly swift movement he lunged forward and snatched the bit of parchment from her grasp. Her face flushed in irritation but she did not try to take it back.

His thoughts whirling inside of him, his eyes flew over the page and he read the shaking handwriting that reminded him sharply of a similar letter he had received from the ghost of Mirkwood, Gwenél.

A/N: Yes, I know. I picked a horrible time to stop. But you all have to admit that, that was a LONG chapter. I mean long! Eight typed pages thank you very much! I hope this story is moving on with a plot that most of you are enjoying. The action will be picking up now, as you all may have guessed, and I have about three chapters written in my notebook which I only have to find the time to type up. So be patient! I'll try to get another chapter up sometime early this weekend.

As always my dears, your reviews mean ever so much to me and fuel the fire that gives me the inspiration to write stories such as these. So please, any and all reviews I would love to read! I love hearing from you all. :)

TO BE CONTINUED...