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

Chapter Quote: "I never said... I- the trophies... I never said that I killed them."

Chapter Forty-One

Fever

Eryn Lasgalen

The Ruins of Saronedhel's Flet

As she had said, there was a cellar beneath the smoking embers and ashes. Legolas fought a shudder as he gazed around the remains of the once glorious flet. It reminded him of death...the cold efficiency of death. The fire had done its work effectively, it had destroyed the flet completely. When they had first entered the smouldering ruins, he had watched as she walked to the place where her murals had once been. She stood very still for a long time. He didn't rush her...he could wait.

Eventually she turned around again with a deep sigh and saw that he had been watching her. She smirked. "I don't suppose you would understand." She said softly, rubbing irritably at her eyes as if she were afraid of the tears that threatened to spill out. "You've never lost everything as I have." She shook her head, talking to herself now as she regained her composure. "Well, the past is past." She moved from the room back into where all her trophies used to be. She searched the ground intently for a moment before a grim smile appeared on her face and she lifted open a hatch door. She glanced at him, gestured for him to follow, and disappeared within it.

As said, the cellar had once been stocked full of provisions, but most of them had been destroyed in the fire. After a while, Saronedhel led him to a room on the farthest side of the cellar and he watched as she visibly sighed with relief. After a few moments of scrounging, she produced several small loaves of bread and some salted pork, as well as a block of cheese. These she divided into halves and packed into two bags. She didn't explain the reasoning behind this act but Legolas knew it probably had something to do with her own condition, the thought of the pack rubbing at her wounds, and also the fact that neither of them trusted the other.

And she emerged lastly with a cream colored tunic in one hand and a hunter green vestment in the other to where overtop the tunic and was similar in design to overcoat she herself donned. "You will need them more then I." She said crisply, gesturing to his own tattered clothing. She disappeared into the store room again and he quickly exchanged his own tunic for the other. Something was missing between the two of them now. There was still hatred...and anger. But both of them knew as well that neither held power over the other- they were equals. Readjusting his quiver and bow upon his shoulders, he was reaching to take one of the packs when she emerged again, carrying two jars of a clear, sparkling substance. The jars she put only into her own pack and avoided his questioning gaze as she tied the straps on the pack up. They didn't speak again until they were outside once more.

She grimaced as she hoisted the pack onto her shoulders and then pointed to a clearing where Talorta stood, waiting for them. "We'll ride...it'll go faster that way."

He nodded in agreement, finding no cause to comment. He swung up behind her once she had mounted and she gently squeezed the horse's sides as a command to walk on. Bridle-less and saddle-less, Talorta obeyed without question and only paused when his mistress sent a lingering glance back towards the flet.

"Something wrong?" He asked, more as a reminder not to linger then a real question, following her gaze as he spoke the first two words he had said in hours.

She shook her head, glanced back hesitantly at him. "Just a feeling." She murmured, "That I won't ever see it again."

He didn't reply as a small shudder ran down her spine and, upon finding his center of balance upon Talorta's long back, he rose with ease as she urged the horse forward and they set off at a brisk canter into the depths of the forest.

Eventually she slowed Talorta to a walk by simply shifting her weight on his back. It was amazing how well-trained the horse was, and also how devoted he was to his mistress. They rode in silence for a long while, his right arm wrapped loosely around her waist to keep his balance and the other resting on his thigh.

Sometimes they would ride through a stray patch of sunlight that escaped from the thick foliage of the star-trees and she would grimace as the light fell upon her face. After an hour or so, the endless line of star-trees ended and they emerged beneath the tall, bare trees of Mirkwood. "The forest of star-trees is more extensive then I thought. How have you been able to keep it hidden so long?" He commented curiously.

She smirked as she looked back at him. "We were riding in circles so you wouldn't be able to find the way back. When this is all over, I can't risk you telling others the location of this place."

"So I'll be still alive?" He said pointedly, referring to her past victims.

She scowled, looked ahead and he felt a small sense of victory well up inside of him at having pricked her. For several minutes she was silent. "I never said I killed them." She said softly.

"What?"

"I never said... I- the trophies... I never said that I killed them."

He turned to look at her skeptically, saw the dull sunlight reflect upon her pale profile. "So what happened to them then? Did they just disappear?"

She glanced back at him, her eyes glinting. "I told you! I tried so many times, but none of you ever listen to the truth."

"The truth? You tell lies, Saronedhel. You are a lie." He said flatly, thinking for a moment he added, "Saronedhel...that isn't your real name...is it?"

She turned away and he scoffed smugly.

"It is my name." She said softly. "A part of my name." He looked at her again, watched her grimace as if the recollection caused her pain. "My name is Victoria." she said. "Victoria."

Legolas didn't answer, was sitting silently as her words shoved his own down his throat. "So...who called you Saronedhel?" He asked quietly.

He saw the tears run down her cheeks, saw her shake her head and rein Talorta in. "We should stop for the night." She said hoarsely. She slid quickly off the horse's back and averted her gaze from Legolas' own inquiring one. "I'll start preparing something for us to eat. You...you go do...something." She fled once her voice broke, visibly shaken, and soon disappeared beneath the trees. He remained on Talorta's back for a few moments longer before he finally dismounted and met the stallion's dark, accusing gaze.

"I hate her...remember?" He said defensively to the peculiar looking horse. Talorta snorted in reply. "Well, it seems any questions I ask only get me more questions instead of answers." The horse said nothing and with a sigh, Legolas glanced around the forest.

"I'd better get a fire going."

She appeared a short while later, her eyes red and swollen and her clothing is disarray. Though, true to her word, she had indeed prepared something for them to eat. She sat herself across the fire from him, staring into the flames in a distinct attempt to ignore his gaze. Legolas ate in silence as the darkness around them became complete, Talorta munching on some freshly fallen leaves a few feet off. They sat in silence for a very long time, both staring into the flames long after they had finish their meals.

Legolas didn't know why he bothered...but there were so many things he desired to know from her. So many questions still left unanswered. Grudgingly, he started up conversation with the first topic that came to mind. "So...what should I call you then? Victoria or Saronedhel?"

She grimaced as she heard him speak and stared thoughtfully into the fire while she rubbed her aching shoulders. "Victoria is fine." She said simply.

"An unusual name."

She glanced up at him for the first time this evening. "I'm not from around here." She said with a grim smile, then diverted her attention to staring into the flames once more.

"Anything else you want to add to that Victoria? You seem to be a woman of many names. A last name perhaps?"

She hesitated, and he could see the debate written plainly on her features. "Knightengale." She said slowly. "My last name is Knightengale."

He nodded, silently contemplating how the name didn't seem to suit what he knew of her at all. "So...is that another lie?"

She looked at him, her head cocked and her expression cold. "That is the truth. Maybe it's time you learned how to decipher between the two." Her words were sharp, a flare of the elf-slayer he knew back when she was locked in his father's prisons. Defiant...every inch a liar and a murderer.

"How do I decide between the two then, aye? Can you teach me?" He said, mockingly, glancing at her from across the fire.

She nodded slowly. "Very well. Truth is that I have never killed one of your people." She rose to her feet, holding her sword out in front of her. "A lie," She said, drawing closer to him. "Is that I haven't thought about killing you every moment since the first day I met you."

He stared up at her without flinching as she pressed her blade to his throat. She watched him, gauging his reaction for a moment longer for a moment longer before she sheathed her sword and returned to where she had been sitting. "Was that helpful?"

Legolas, still watching her from across the fire, shrugged. "Time will tell." He said nonchalantly.

She muttered something under her breath and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Legolas frowned and peered more closely at her, despite all appearances...she didn't look well...at all. There was a flush to her face and cloudiness in her eyes that he could not attribute to the flames...he had seen such too many times. And though she seemed to have not yet noticed it, her hands were shaking.

"You all right?" He asked gruffly, unsure of why he was inquiring about her if she loathed him so much. Not that the feeling wasn't mutual...but she herself seemed to have only noticed her shaking hands and as she held them up to her face, her eyes widened in surprise. Her voice cracked as she replied,

"I don't know..."

He got up, driven by some ancient form of elvish honor, and knelt by her side. The forest was veiled in darkness now and the only things that could be seen were those only a few feet away. "You look feverish." He said, placing a hand on her shoulder too late before he remembered the burns that were still painful there. She sucked in air sharply and winced as he quickly jerked his hand away. "Forgive me." He murmured softly, then, looking round, he spied a bowl of water he had placed next to the fire. "Come." He said, "I should change your bandages."

She shook her head and spoke through gritted teeth. "I can take care of myself." She said hoarsely, wincing again as pain radiated from her body. Legolas, ignoring her answer, pulled her closer to the fire. Though she had adamant protests at first, they soon died away when he sharply demanded,

"Shall I undress you or would you prefer to do it?"

She was silent after that. She undid the front clasps of her tunic and he helped her to shrug off her soiled overcoat before he untied the remnants of the tunic which he had used for bandages and examined her burns. She was still shaking when he pressed the cool compressed to the blistering wounds and she trembled harder when the cool water began to drip down her shoulders sending shocks of relief and pain all at once through her body. Legolas began with her right shoulder, pressing the damp cloth to the burns there and then traveling down her arm and chest until he stopped where she still held her tunic up, covering her breasts.

He bandaged her up as best he could and then moved on to her left side. Here he paused as he caught sight of an old scar. It was unusual looking...something he had never seen before. He brushed his fingers lightly over it, causing her feverish form to shudder as she turned to glare at him. She followed his gaze until her own eyes rested upon the scar and she scowled.

"Don't bother." She said. "It was from a lifetime ago."

But he did bother, for now he could see just how many scars decorated her shoulders and back. Saronedhel had led a hard life.

"I lived the best I could." She said thickly, answering him as if she had read his thoughts.

He finished bandaging her up quickly, readjusted her tunic as she suddenly became to groggy to do so on her own. She didn't seem to have any strength left to fight him as he laid her out by the fire and placed her jacket over he body like a blanket. But before she had completely drifted off, she managed to look up at him with dull, blue eyes and murmur a 'thank you' before she drifted off into unconsciousness.

Legolas found it difficult to sleep that night so, for the second evening in a row he chose instead to remain awake and keep watch. Winter was near, he could feel it in the air, could almost smell the snowflakes on the wind. They wouldn't be able to make camp outside many more times after this and he could only hope that Gilloth wasn't too much further away. But what troubled him as he lay there, staring into the canopy above was the fact that he wasn't really quite sure exactly what the lies were above Victoria, and what exactly the truth was after all.

I awoke feeling nauseated and sore the next morning. My thoughts were all in a jumble and I found it rather difficult to decipher one thing from the other as I fought to return to consciousness. Then I remembered his cool hands brushing against my skin and the blush that had crept onto my cheeks as I had lowered my tunic for him.

I remembered the strange look in his eyes when he saw my scars, how his fingers had traveled over the scar from my gun-shot wound from so many years before. A hard life, he had thought, I had seen it in those silver orbs. Didn't I know it. Usually when I woke up I would think for a moment or two on how I would kill Legolas when this was all over. He knew too much about me, he knew where to find me, and he would send others to look for me. He wanted truth from me and he was getting it.

But these last two mornings had left me confused about him. I knew he hated me because of what he believes I did to Faerlain and to his people. I knew the rage and disgust he felt when he saw me because they mirrored my own feeling about him. And yet, there had been other times he had taken care of me when I had needed it; and I would not soon forget the warmth of his embrace. It had been so long since someone had cared for me that all these new, resulting feelings were confusing and particularly alarming. Had I forgotten so soon what had happened to the people I trusted? No...I would not make that mistake again.

I had told the truth when I had said that I had never killed one of his kind...but it didn't mean that I hadn't killed before.

She had woken up looking groggy and sore, but she didn't say anything. She didn't utter a single moan as she stumbled to her feet and started to get Talorta ready to go with her hands still shaking. She shook her head when he offered he a chuck of bread and looked slightly green when she mounted Talorta and Legolas jumped up behind her. She didn't urge the horse on faster then a slow, rambling trot for a long time. They stopped once to give Talorta a drink, and then they set off once more.

"So how long will it take to get there?" He asked her as Talorta plodded along at a slow walk.

"We should arrived sometime tomorrow evening. With any luck, we'll be able to at least get comfortable before we meet our stranger." She replied weakly.

"What makes you think we'll get there early?"

"Haven't you noticed? We've stayed off all the main roads. This is a short-cut, we're by passing the villages and shaving off a day off the normal travel route."

"Yes, I imagine having to explain you to the villagers would be quite a chore anyway." He said in a mocking tone, which earned him nothing but silence, which troubled him. Legolas looked over her shoulder into her face, which looked pale and drawn with beads of sweat dripped down her forehead.

"You are not well." He said carefully, looking more intently at her face.

"So tired..." She murmured. "I'm so tired..."

"What markers are we looking for?" He asked.

"Why?"

"Just tell me, I'll wake you up when we get to it." He was surprised that she didn't argue and her behavior only confirmed his suspicions as to how sick she really was. "Keep going southeast...we should meet up with the main road." She said, straining her neck to look back at him and he held her look with a firm glance.

"Sleep...you need it."

She stared at him for a moment longer, then turned round and relaxed her lean body against his chest. She sighed as she closed her eyes, still shaking, and she was asleep within moments. Her breathing was labored as she slept silently against him. Shaking his head at her foolishness, he gently took the reins from her relaxed grasp and encircled his arm more tightly about her waist. Realizing that they still had a ways to go, he was left alone with his thoughts, the dull sound of Talorta's hooves striking the earth, and the strange feeling of the elf-slayer sleeping soundly against him.

A/N: I am on a roll! I'm just whipping out these chapters! I'm going to be away for the weekend but in that time I'll try to type out another chapter to have up by Tuesday or Wednesday. But just incase I don't get the chance...Happy Valentine's Day! And I hope you are enjoying my story. I didn't particularly like the way this chapter was written...it sounded awkward at times to me...ah...well, you can't win them all. Thank you so much for your reviews and I look forward to getting more! And thanks a million to Kiann for betaing. :)

TO BE CONTINUED...