Chapter 3.
Ten minutes later all but one member of the strange group had settled. Lord Arlind had yet to stop pacing. Back and forth across the small anteroom he went. Far from being unnerved by his movements Arien found his even strides comforting. Allowing herself to watch his track she relaxed enough to finally release the hilt of her sword and lean fully into the cushions behind her.
The King and his son were sitting across from her discussing this or that matter of court. They had given up trying to engage her in conversation after several attempts awarded with nothing but single-syllable answers. So Arien was left to her own devises. She had considered excusing herself and simply taking her leave, but found to her great surprise that she did not wish to leave. Sitting there surrounded by elves she realized how much she truly missed being with her own kin. She instead took out her polish stone and fell into the relaxing habit of cleaning her weapons.
Arien didn't know how long they had been waiting for the healer to appear, but she knew it had been some hours. Arlind had finally settled, his legs unable to keep the pace for too long, but had been silent despite the king's attempts to draw him into conversation. Runners had come through the doors continuously bearing notes for the king and unnerving Arien with the intense looks set upon her. The last person that had entered the healing house had been a young maiden.
Pushing in front of her a tray of food she had blushed crimson as she pulled it to a stop in between Arien and the prince. Prince Legolas hadn't seemed to have noticed the girl's color. But Arien had found it positively alarming and had just managed to keep from asking after the girl's health. She had never seen someone blush so violently.
Arien was just reconsidering the thought of leaving when the sound of a door opening and closing in the distance signaled the return of Urril. Coming to a halt in the front of the group he first bowed to one side of the room then the other. Realizing the important audience he had the ellon did not waste time with the usual reassurances.
"I apologize for the wait." He said. "We did a thorough examination and found a small fracture on his femur. Repairing bones takes much longer than repairing tissue. He lost a lot of blood, but with the help of athelas-root tea and plenty of bed rest he will soon be in as good condition as he was before." The strange mood that had taken over the adviser since the news of his son's exploits immediately dissipated in a breath of relief. Sliding from his seat he walked over and grasped the healers forearm in deep felt thanks before turning to the dark figure sitting behind him.
Arien cringed as the lord turned to her and knelt on one knee. Looking up he gazed intently into the dark cavern of her hood giving her the opportunity to notice that Eilde had his father's eyes before she was distracted by the man's words. "My Lord, I fear that I will be indebted to you for all of my days. You have given me something that I will never be able to repay. If there is ever anything that you need, please do not hesitate to call upon me. I am your servant." He bowed, which seemed a difficult thing to do in his position, before standing and following the Master healer down the corridor his chestnut hair swinging in his haste.
No matter her exclusion from elven society Arien could still recognize a vow of servitude. And it seemed Lord Arlind had no intention of letting her refuse it. Turning to face the two men across from her she saw that they too seemed slightly taken aback at the adviser's edict. A vow of servitude was a rare custom usually reserved for a king and his captain. Fortunately the king did not seem affronted just slightly bemused. As so did his son.
Legolas was looking at Arien in a very scrutinizing way making her insides squirm uncomfortably. Thankfully the king seemed to quickly put aside the matter in order to address his guest. "My Lord Protector, would you honor my family with your company and join us for our eve meal?" Before she could answer with an excuse that she had yet to think of Legolas interrupted.
"It would indeed be a great honor My Lord." Arien made the grave mistake of looking the young man in the eyes. She suddenly forgot why she was going to decline the offer as her head filled with impossibly silly, and romantic notions. She couldn't help herself.
Tearing her eyes away from the deep drowning pools of blue to a pair as green as a new leaf and brimming with knowledge she said, "Thank you much for the invitation my King. I accept." Thranduil stood, beaming.
"Wonderful," he said. "The queen will be most pleased. Come, we will leave Eilde to his father's care." With that he strode from the room, Legolas on his heels. Walking behind them Arien took note that were it not for the king's slightly heavier build and the different choice of attire she would have been unable to tell the difference between the two from the back. Both wore their golden hair to the bottom of their shoulder blades with one braid lying down the middle, and they were equal in height, nearly four inches taller than her meager size.
With the two ellons leading the way they quickly got further and further into the mountainside leaving behind the rough hewn, empty tunnels of the lower levels for the more densely populated, polished, and well lit, corridors of the upper levels. How they had bypassed the market, and middle levels Arien couldn't figure out. She had franticly tried to memorize the route as they went but had almost immediately found herself lost and nearly convinced that they were going in circles.
Finally they turned into an extra wide corridor lit by large lamps hanging from the ceiling leaving small pockets of shadow along the wall every few feet. She stopped. Painted elegantly on the entrance floor were the words 'Lordling's Hall'. Legolas, who had dropped back sometime ago to walk with her explained, a small smile on his handsome face. "My mother painted that. She said that it's much easier for each hall to go by it's own name, and that we children were the ones that truly had the run of it and as such it was fitting." Arien continued to stare down at the painting. There were several moments of silence before he realized that she wasn't going to comment and they continued on.
Doing her best to slink from shadow to shadow she saw their destination and allowed herself to fall behind. Two large double doors stood at the end of Lordling's Hall with one armed-guard on either side. In hindsight staying in the shadows had perhaps not been the best idea. Once arriving at the door she could do nothing but come out of hiding. The moment she stepped into the light one of the guards sprang from his position, his gleaming sword flying for her neck.
But Arien had expected just such an attack. No guard worth the red stitching on his tunic would remain passive as a hooded figure appeared behind his King and Prince as fully armed as she was. She waited, watching as if in slow motion as the blade got closer and closer. At the very last moment she ducked, straightened up directly behind the guard, and wrapped her arm around his neck, her knife against his throat and her dagger pressing him in the lower back. He froze, his sword hanging loosely in his grip.
"Drop it." She whispered against his ear. The blade clattered to the ground. The King stepped from behind the second guard and his son where he had been herded the moment the action had begun. With his hands outstretched, palms up in a placating manner he walked towards her.
"My Lord, I apologize. It was merely a misunderstanding." Arien, her body coursing with adrenaline and no little fear, was just able to hear him over the pounding of her heart. What had she been thinking allowing herself to be guided so far into unknown territory by people she was unfamiliar with? A compressing panic engulfed her. She had to get out.
Looking warily at the three men before her she hazily noticed their expressions of worry. Realizing that she was still holding onto her captive she forced herself to take a deep breath relaxing herself enough to release the elf. He leapt to the opposite side of the room the moment he felt the weight of metal leave his throat. Standing a little behind his counterpart he was shaking slightly. Arien noticed guiltily that he was near two centuries younger than herself.
"I'm afraid I must recant my acceptation of your invitation your Highness. It is getting late and the roads are not safe for anyone at night." She said looking at the floor and rolling the hilts of her weapons in discomfort, her voice cracking audibly. Thranduil was disappointed, but felt he could empathize. The man had no doubt not expected such an attack and wished to recover himself. It was quite understandable however regrettable.
Hearing his son come to stand beside him he said, "Legolas please escort our lord to the stables to retrieve his mount." After surreptitious observations during the day Thranduil had come to the conclusion that the Protector was much younger than anybody had ever assumed, perhaps even as young as Legolas. And he couldn't help but feel slightly protect of him.
Turning to address their would-be guest once more he said, " Please remember that should you require anything, anything at all, you need only ask." Arien nodded once and watched as the king and his shaken guards disappeared behind the double doors. Looking back to the prince she saw that he seemed somewhat uncomfortable, but felt that he couldn't possible be more uncomfortable than she was.
After several seconds of awkward silence Prince Legolas led the way out of the hall, and Arien followed, her weapons returned to their sheaths. It was a long trip back but the welcoming sounds and smells of the stable was worth it. It had been some time since she had had the opportunity to bask in the sweet aroma of mixed grains and lay in a fresh bed of hay, and she suddenly found herself immersed in memories of the days that had required nothing of her but to muck out a stall or two.
A nudge on her shoulder knocked her out of her reverie. Lúnor stood before her better groomed than she had been in years. Taking her lead from the young hostler whose eyebrows were in danger of disappearing into his hairline she mounted. Looking back down at Prince Legolas she scolded herself for the fluttery feeling that immediately hit her midsection. He reached up, his golden hair sliding across his shoulder, to stroke Lúnor's sleek neck.
"She is a beautiful horse." Arien nodded, irrefutable pride mingling with her butterflies.
"She is a great friend." He looked up. Once again looking for the mouth that he knew produced the words, but all was darkness. He stepped back letting his hand fall to his side.
"I thank you once again for the life of my friend. May Elbereth smile upon you Great One." She blushed.
"And you Prince." Guiding Lúnor out the door took a bit of extra encouragement, but they made it out eventually and took off for home. O great Elbereth, she thought as trees streaked past in a blur, if you truly smile upon me then I will never be so unlucky as to meet that enchanting man again. However, knowing her life as she did she knew she was bound to. Unluckiness seemed to be a disease with her.
Hey All! Next stop chapter 4 in which a relationship begins. Which of course means more Legolas! I actually get to start to build, and show some of his character. I don't know about you but I'm excited! I think it's very interesting that I've attracted a few Tamora Pierce lovers, as she's been my favorite author since I was about 11. Signed books Jesus1Uver! NOT FAIR!
Also I don't know if you're aware of this, but it's practically impossible to judge your own story from a reader's perspective. So, I'm relying on all you special people out there to let me know what's what. While constructive praise is good enough for me, constructive criticism is good for the story. I'd love to hear how you think the story is progressing. So give me a shout out, and thanks for reading.