"Father?" Ilterrin called softly as he opened the door to his parent's bedchambers. He had just received the highest mark in his archery group and could not wait to tell his father.
He pushed the door open further and stepped inside. The room felt haunting and strangely lonely: deserted as the curtains fluttered softly in the summer's breeze, brushing gently against something that seemed to have fallen beneath the windows. The hair on his neck stood on end and his heart beat faster as the room seemed to grow cold and stale like the tombs of the old kings. He stepped towards it and wished as he drew nearer he had not taken the last step.
Slowly he pulled the curtains back, holding them so they would not interfere as his stomach lurched and his heart grew cold at the sight before him. He was frozen, unable even to breathe as he took in the sight of the pale body that lay broken before him. Blood stained her alabaster skin and fell in silent drops to the stone floor beneath her. He reached out and turned her so that she faced him, her body limp as the dolls the children played with in the village. Her ears came to slight points and her high cheek bones were drained of any colour. Her body was skeletal, as if she had been fed nothing for months and he wondered where she had come from.
With care he lifted her frail form and laid her on top of his parents unmade bed reaching for the pitcher of water on the nightstand as he tore a piece of his shirt and wet it with water. Many wounds were fresh and continued to bleed despite his efforts but others were older and her body was riddled with scars. He knew that she had been very beautiful once as he moved her long ebony hair to clean a large gash on her forehead. He stopped suddenly filled with uncontrollable rage for anyone who could did this to such a fair creature and when he looked again she was watching him. Her dark eyes haunted him. They were dull with pain and fear. He did not want her to fear him; he wanted to help her, if only he could make her understand.
"Please, do not be afraid. I want to help you," he pleaded.
She tried, but could not speak for her face was discoloured and swollen from a blow that she had been unable to stop. He continued to clean her wounds, realizing that he had never truly seen any woman's body bare before him but he felt no desire to explore her although she was weak enough he knew she could have done nothing to stop him. Instead he pulled the silk sheets to cover what part of her he was not caring for. A small tear fell down her cheek as he cleaned her wounds and he wondered how many more like it had fallen.
He knew no measure of time as he carefully washed and tended even the smallest of her wounds as she trembled from fear or cold. He put the wash cloth in the basin which was now filled with water stained a terrible red and removed his vambraces and his belt and took the tunic from his back. Then, ever so carefully, he pulled it to cover her body, cradling her in the crook of his arm as he dressed her. For a moment afterwards he looked into her face and he saw the traces of elven knowledge and light that had been long ago beaten from her as had her joy. He could not tear himself away from her deep eyes because she knew; she knew he would not harm her and he felt his own tears start to fall down his young face as he laid her back against the soft pillows and held her cold hand in his. He wondered if she was dying and a dark voice told him that she was and he cried harder for even he knew that elves were not supposed to die.
"Ilterrin!" his father's sharp voice broke through his tears and he lifted his bowed head, startled to see his father's dark shape looming in the doorway. "What in Arda are you doing?"
"Father, who is she?" he asked, hoping that his father could do something but he felt instead a strange sensation like cold hands gripping his heart as his father laughed. He felt her stiffen at the sound of it and she turned her face from them.
"She is no one. A mere whore for me to do with as I please. On your eighteenth birthday she will be yours," his father told him lightly, as if he were proud of what he had done to her.
He felt sick. This man could not be his father. He knew his horrified expression was written plainly on his face for his father grew angry and reached past him, pulling the elleth from the bed, holding her off the ground by her hair.
"This is nothing. Feel no sorrow for her," his father spoke with disgust as if she was a filthy orc and he felt rage.
"Let her go!" he screamed and tackled his father, slamming him against the wall and forcing him to let go of her.
He looked up at his father as he cradled the elf in his arms. She was crying, trying to speak again. He saw the hopelessness in her eyes. She had resigned herself to this; to death. She spoke soft words that he did not understand before she became limp in his arms and her eyes slowly closed; he felt hot tears fall down his face.
His father's face was scarlet with fury as he came at him and Ilterrin felt himself thrown across the room by his father's hand. Images swam and then suddenly his mother was there, holding him and screaming at his father to stop. He pulled himself away from her and stood, unsteadily to his feet and looked back at her.
He expected to see anger; righteous indignation that her husband should use another woman's body for his pleasure. It was not there and he wondered if she knew. He looked again and saw not the anger he had first expected but bitter, anguishing sorrow for the elf that lay, crumpled and unmoving at his father's feet. She knew. She knew but didn't blame this poor creature. What Ilterrin could not know was that his mother had found her often as he had this day and unbeknownst to her husband had tended to the elleth's wounds. Crying her own salty tears as she sang lullabies and prayed that the poor child would die so she would suffer no more.
"Mother," he began but his words fled as a single tear fell from his mothers beautiful pale blue eyes. He had never seen his mother cry.
He turned back to look at his father once more and threw his dagger, sheathe and all, hatefully at this man's feet. He saw the look of astonishment and hurt on his fathers face but did not care. He kissed his mother once and looked deeply into her eyes for a moment: she knew he would not return. He ran from the palace, blinded by tears and did not turn back.
He had been sixteen that day and in his mind that was the day that he became a man. He mounted his horse and fled the village despite the looks of those he passed and rode into the forest where it was said a group of rebels dwelt. He stayed with them for two years and they hailed him as lord in his father's stead. Exactly two years from the day when he learned the truth about whom his father was he led the rebel's in a battle against his father and won.
He had not stayed to enjoy the victorious feasting of his people, for they were glad to see his father dead, slain by his own hand. He had learned long ago that the elf was not the only one who his father had mistreated. He had left the square and ridden for the palace, searching through the dank dungeons for any who knew of her for he had decided that she would be freed and live as she pleased in his home, wanting for nothing for the rest of her endless years. She was gone. She had fled during the battle and it was said that another prisoner had chased her, claiming she would be his.
For months since Ilterrin had scoured all the lands of Middle-earth for some news of her, leaving his kingdom and his mother in the hands of his most trusted friend as he searched for her. His journey had led him here, to the White City, and he paused upon the Field of Pelannor to watch as the setting sun turned the White Tower to shining gold. The wind blew sweetly and he breathed deeply as he closed his eyes and saw not the gold tower but her endless eyes and silver tears. The wind whipped his pale hair across his dark face, wiping away his own tears as he urged his mount forward hoping to make it to the city before the gates were closed. Hoping that his search would end.
Saeorii stood atop the landing of the White Tower, hearing the gentle whispers of the wind among the branches of the White Tree of Arnor that lived and grew once more as in the days of old. Her dress was made of light material and moved gently about her as she went to stand at the edge and look out across the land as far as her elven sight would allow. The sun's last fire was casting its scarlet flame over the flat plains and fields that stretched out ever before her to the sea and as she breathed deeply she could smell the tangy scent of the mighty ocean and imagine she heard the soothing rush of the waves on the shore.
She looked once more and saw a small group of riders making towards the palace with great speed. Her heart stopped as she saw the black hawk upon a white sky that had turned crimson in the last light of the sun. The taught snap of the banner was suddenly the crack of a whip. The darkening sky was the walls of stone that had been her prison. Her knees gave way beneath her and she could not breathe as the darkening sky was suddenly filled the haunting forms of her master's shadows. He had come for her. He had come to take her back. She belonged to him.
"Saeorii, are you alright?"
He had watched her fall to her knees and ran to her as he never remembered running before. Her eyes were distant, unseeing that it was he who now knelt at her side and he wondered who it was she saw that caused all colour to leave her sweet face and tears to course silently down her cheeks. At a loss he reached for her and pulled her into his arms. At first her body was stiff and unyielding and she tried to pull away but he did not let go and soon she calmed and he felt her melt against him. She was still crying and he could feel her tears through his dark tunic as she repeated the same chilling words over and over again as he rocked her gently from side to side.
"Please don't let him take me. Don't let him take me. Don't let him take me."
"Who, Saeorii," he asked softly as he eased her away from himself and cupped her face in his large hands, searching her deep eyes for an answer.
"Tyurin."
She spoke the name as if it pained her even to utter it and she began to shake all over. He pulled her close and wrapped the heavy robe on his back around her trembling form. He did not have to ask who it was for she had already told him. Told him with each crystal tear that fell from her eyes; told him with the fear that made her eyes seem haunted and empty; told him in the way that she clung desperately to him as she sobbed silently against his broad chest. He held her to him tightly as he dared without fearing he would harm her and sang to her softly in elvish as the first stars appeared in the sky above them. He kissed her dark head and rested his cheek against her soft hair breathing in her scent as he tried to soothe her.
"None shall ever take you from me," he whispered softly and felt her still, listening intently to the words he spoke. "You are and ever will be safe here in my arms and in my home where you shall dwell so long as your heart desires." He shifted her slightly so that her head was titled back so that all she saw was his loving face and the beautiful sky above him. He smiled at her as a single tear slid down his cheek and mingled with hers. "I love you," he whispered as his heart beat slowly against her face and he realized that he loved her more than he had ever loved before. "I will always love you."
Gently he raised her towards him and felt her gasp softly as he brushed his lips against hers with a deep and sacred tenderness. He lingered only for a moment, forcing himself to pull away once more and was humbled to see colour rise to her cheeks as he gently wiped the last tears from the corners of her eyes with the edge of his satin robe.
Ilterrin had felt unwelcome since his arrival at the gate where he had been made to wait an hour before he was taken to Minas Tirith and where he had been told very coldly that the king would see him. He sat there now, still astride his horse, and was startled from his private thoughts when the great doors to the palace swung open. He watched as two lines of very formidable looking guards bearing spears at least three feet above the head of the tallest marched out and took their places along the walkway made with white stones that led to the wide steps of the palace. None, it seemed, were unarmed and his men shifted uneasily as they stood on the ground at his side.
As one body and without orders all the guards turned with rigid steps to face him and their eyes were sharper than any sword he had ever seen. That their hands came to rest on the hilt of their sword's did not go unnoticed by any in his company he knew that it was with guarded friendship and not opened arms that he would be greeted by King Elessar this night. As suddenly as they had turned towards him the guards again turned to face the walkway that led towards where he waited and made an archway with their spears as a great figure appeared in the open doors.
"Announcing his majesty, King Elessar!" cried one guard at the top of the stairs and the king inclined his head slightly as he passed.
He felt his mouth open in awe as he watched this man, whom it was said had spent his life as a Ranger, walk towards him. His silver eyes pierced Ilterrin with all the trueness of an elven arrow but he saw behind the restrained anger, great wisdom. Beneath the robes of a king were broad shoulders used to carrying the heaviest load and strong arms that would easily wield a sword. He felt very small as King Elessar of Gondor walked towards him and he swung down from his horse and knelt, knowing those with him would follow.
He heard the sound of steel being bared and felt suddenly the coolness of Anduril at his throat. The king knew.
"Speak now or be forever silenced," the king spoke in a low tone that sent chills down his spine although he didn't dare shiver for fear of the blade at this throat.
"I am Prince Ilterrin of Nian, your majesty," he answered quickly and felt slightly embarrassed by the slight waver in his voice. He had never been so frightened in all of his nineteen years and he sensed that the king would not hesitate to kill him.
"Why have you come?"
"I have come to offer what little my kingdom can give to Gondor, be it men or land or anything else that is mine to give."
"And" the king paused expectantly.
The blade pressed slightly harder at his throat.
"And to seek a lady who was taken during the rebellion against my father."
The blade was pressed beneath his chin, forcing him to look up at King Elessar.
"Why do you seek her?"
He could not turn his eyes from the king's and so looked into them, hoping to find in them mercy that he knew he did not deserve.
"Because I owe her everything I have to give and more for what those who have sat upon the throne before me have done to her," he spoke and he could not keep the disgust he felt for his grandsires from creeping into his voice as he spoke. "I owe her a debt that I can never begin to pay, but I wish to try."
There was no change in the stoic expression of the king and he feared that his words had fallen upon deaf ears but then the blade at his throat was lowered and he immediately bowed his head under the weight of the clear eyes that stared at him unceasingly. He released a breath that he had not realized he had been holding as he heard the familiar sound of a blade being sheathed but he dared not look up.
"Rise, my brother," spoke the king, his voice resonating richly so that all present heard and Ilterrin opened his eyes to see the king's leathered hand reaching to help him stand. He was left speechless as he allowed the king to pull him to his feet and looked again into his eyes that now held only kindness and compassion: completely absent was any anger or ill will. He did not understand and the king smiled sadly, "It is not right for the son to be punished for the actions of his father. Your heart is true and so I welcome you to my kingdom, name you my friend and say that you shall be welcome in my house for as many years as are gifted to you."
To be continued….
I know I kind left that in the middle of things, but at least I'll keep your interest and hopefully you will read the next chapter.
Tadriendra of Mirkwood:Thank you so much and I know that my grammer is horrible but I think I am beyond any hope. Anyway, Aragorn won't let anything happen to Saeorii. Thanx!
Brandy Lebeau: Thank you so much and welcome to the story, I don't think you've ever reviewed before. I am glad that you like it and will try and update as soon as exams allow! Gotta hate 'em eh? Anyway, thanks and I hope to hear from you again!
Karone Evertree: It's alright, fewer people reviewed to this chapter than the last and I assumed since it took so long for me to get reviews that there were probelms. Isn't technology great? Anyway, thanks so much and I'm glad that you liked my fluff chapter! Thanks for your reviews!
Blistered Avalon: Glad that you feel included. That's my goal is to make everyone feel like they are there! Anyway, thanks for your reveiw!
EamanA: Glad that you like my story and as for when they will finally kiss? I think my chapter already answered that one. Anyway, thanks for the review and hope to hear from you again!
Estel-Ara: Thanks so much for the compliment! Every once in a while you just need time to recharge your brain and that is what fluff chapters wree made for! Glad it was enjoyable, and thanks!
