A/N- Oh my freaking goodness! I'm back! Yes, that's right, I'm back. After over a year with no updates to this story, I've finally gotten out a new chapter! Halleleujah! Yes, the flaming and the nastiness chased away my muse for a long time…but he's back, and he's working hard now.
There are a few people I need to thank for finally being able to come back and write this piece again…firstly Julie for encouraging me and for letting me bounce my ideas off of her when it seemed like I had hit a brick wall. Also to Andy, of course, for being so wonderful, for loving me, and for telling me again and again the merits he saw in this piece when even I had almost lost faith in it. I also need to thank the wonderful kids from "The Princess and the Shoemaker," the summer youth production at the community theatre in Chiefland, Florida, especially Mindy, for her lovely massages to keep me writing and her awesome sense of humour, and Rosie, for her sweet words and unshakable loyalty. Having you guys admire this piece was really what got it going again, so thanks!
And finally, a huge thanks to all my readers, especially those who have been with me since day one, and who all came to my aid and my defense when my work came under attack. You've all been wonderful, and your kind words have helped me more than you'll ever know. I sincerely hope it was worth the wait.
And now, on with the chapter.
Falling Into Grace
"And I want a moment to be real,wanna touch things I don't feel,
Wanna hold on, and feel I belong. And how can the world want me to change?
They're the ones that stay the same. They don't know me,
Cause I'm not here.
And you see the things they never see. All you wanted, I could be.
Now you know me, and I'm not afraid."
-Johnny Rzeznik
Serene. I am serene, Aéllanwen thought as she tightened the laces on her riding gown. She thought of the other elves, even those younger than her, who seemed to find it so easy to be calm, and found it in herself not to jump up and down like a fool.
D was taking her with him. She was going hunting with him.
He thought the entire idea was idiocy. He couldn't believe how foolish she was being. She was honest with herself. She had whined. He had given in out of sheer frustration. She should have been worried, for he had been quite annoyed when he left, but…she was just so happy, to be going out with him, to have a little of her own life back in her control, even if that control was mostly an illusion.
She knew, after all, that the only reason he had agreed was because it was daylight. She was in no actual danger. Truth be known, she herself was frightened to death of the prospect of going out at night. But she just couldn't stand it any longer. She was sick of waiting. She was sick of sitting. She loved Mirkwood, but she wanted to be out of it.
Soon she found herself outside at the gates to her home, staring out of the bars, at the lock, and finding herself saddened by the sight. Never before, at least not within her lifetime, had the gates been locked. Ever they had been left open, to allow one and all to enter and leave as they pleased.
Her horse shifted restlessly beneath her, and she hushed him with a few gentle words in Elvish. D had promised to meet her there very soon, and she thrilled just a little at seeing him, just as she did every time they met…which, considering their current situation, was really quite a lot.
Without warning, she felt him next to her, and she turned abruptly. There he sat, fully armoured, mounted. His horse's hooves were muffled by the soft turf of the forest floor, and the fabric of his cloak made not a sound as it moved around him.
His face was impassive, but she could feel he was not happy with her.
"Good morning, Aidan," she greeted him boldly, smiling nonetheless.
His eyes flickered at the sound of his name, and she felt a flare of something warm from him, which was quickly stamped down. But it was enough. Aéllanwen's smile widened. "Well?" she said cheerfully, as they set off, through the gates and down through the village houses. "Where are we going this morning?"
There was a moment of irritation, and his eyes again slid to her, resting on her for a long moment before he answered. "We are going out into the woods. I wish to search for traces of the vampire."
He paused, and his irritation increased, though now it felt rather as if it were not directed at her. "It is not my habit…" he hestitated. "It is not my habit to sit and…wait for my hunt to come to me. It is my habit to search them out."
Aéllanwen felt a pang of hurt at his words, but held her tongue, determined to be serene.
D's grey eyes slid to her for a moment, then back to the path in front of them. "However, this situation is unusual. Usually, I am chasing not only the vampire, but also his prey. I can hardly bring to mind a time when I was playing the part of bodyguard. It was…in many ways lucky that I was able to find you before he did…"
"But at the same time it frustrates you," she guessed. "You are the type who hates to wait for something to happen. You are the type who wants to make it happen. You are a hunter, and you want to hunt."
He looked at her again, this time for much longer, and she felt a tiny battle being fought within him. "In a way, you are right," he finally said, very hesitantly. He looked ahead, towards the sun where it broke through the canopy of Mirkwood. "However…" he continued. "I should like to rest. I have existed for so long, and I am tired. I am tired of the violence. I am tired of the fear. I want to simply exist, for however much longer I am meant to. But I cannot. I will not rest until my mission is completed. Whether or not that will ever actually come to pass, I do not know."
"What is your mission?" she asked.
"I am called 'Vampire Hunter,' but it is not so simple as that. I told your father, I hunt cruelty in all its forms. When cruelty comes in the form of normal humans, that is left to the humans to deal with. When it comes in the form of something more powerful and sinister, it is left to me. At one time, where I come from, there were Vampire Hunters, Mutant Hutners, Werewolf Hunters…"
" 'Werewolf?'" she broke in.
He looked slightly irritated at being interrupted, but answered her nonetheless. "Werewolves, sometimes called Lycans, are men with the ability to transform into a sort of man-wolf crossbreed. Initially they are affected only by the light of the full moon, but the very old werewolves have the ability to transform at will. Despite the fact that a werewolf's bite is fatal to a vampire, and vice versa, they are often employed by the most powerful vampires as…henchmen. Other than being bitten by a vampire, a werewolf can only be killed by silver bullet or stake. Silver is also effective against vampires, but only if they are struck in the heart. Werewolves have all the abilities that would be associated with any normal wolf: heightened sight, smell, hearing, speed. Some have the ability to see through solid objects. If a non-Lycan is bitten, they will transform on the following full moon, but unlike a vampire, Werewolves do not choose who to change."
She blinked at the coldness of his textbook answer. "Thank you," she said. "I am sorry I interrupted. Please do continue."
"There is not much else to say," he replied. "I was a Vampire Hunter. Now that Hunters themselves are a dying breed, I find myself hunting more and more variety of creatures, though there is less and less to hunt. But I do not seek out vampires simply for living. That is why I call myself a hunter of cruelty."
She felt something from him then, like a determination and a tenderness all at once. Smiling, she reached out to touch him, her fingers sliding over the muscles of his arm with the movement of their horses. "You, melamin, are a Hunter of Peace."
He looked at her, and as their eyes met, she felt that same flare of warmth she had felt when first she had greeted him with his name. He stopped his horse for a moment, and she followed suit. Then his fingers touched her cheek just barely, and she tingled where they moved, finding herself exceedingly glad that he did not wear gloves. The coolness of his palm touched her cheek, he leaned closer to her, and she thought he would kiss her. But instead his fingers trailed down the hair that sat in front of her pointed ears, and he merely replied, "Yes, I suppose that I am."
She was certain that he had smiled, just a little.
Three hours later, any trace of smiles had disappeared. D was growing both frustrated, and even, she thought, a little frightened. Aéllanwen, acutely aware of these upsetting emotions spilling from her companion, had taken to twisting her reins between her hands, so tightly that they were almost stretching under the strain. She had long been debating whether or not to ask him what was wrong, but feared that under the stress he would not appreciate her adding to his frustration. Still, she knew that if something did not soon happen, she would go mad. She felt close to tears already.
Finally, when he had dismounted to look at something on the ground that she herself could not see, she joined him on the ground. He had knelt, and had laid his left hand on the mossy forest floor, as if he could feel something that was not there. Coming up behind him, she laid her hand on his shoulder. Even through his thick armour, she felt him tense. Trying to pour all the love and comfort she possessed for him into their connection, she spoke his name slowly and softly, as if he would spook and run away.
"Aidan," she whispered, voice trembling. "What is it? What is wrong?"
There was a long moment before he stood up and turned to face her.
"The trail…is grown cold, Aéllanwen. There are no recent traces of the vampire here, I…" His face contorted into a scowl of frustration. "There are no recent traces of him within easy riding distance of Mirkwood. The only conclusion I can come to is that…either he has outsmarted me, again, or he is hiding more than a day's ride from here."
Serene. "But this is good, is it not?" she asked as evenly as she could, though his tone upset her greatly. Rarely did he allow his emotions to enter his voice. "It may mean he has left, right? It may mean that he has decided to give up this pursuit."
"Or it may mean that he is simply waiting for me to come find him, and then he will simply take you while I am not here!" he shouted, flinging one arm out harshly. "Or it may mean he is trying to lure us from the safety of your home, where we will be infinitely more vulnerable. It could mean anything, Aéllanwen, and I am helpless to know which is right! I am his puppet; I am no longer the hunter, I am the prey! He is toying with me!"
Guilt consumed her. Tears stung her eyes, but she stubbornly refused to cry in front of him. "I…" her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat vigorously. "I am sorry."
His eyes narrowed, and he turned to her in surprise. "What?"
Serene. "I am sorry." She turned away, hugging herself. "I know it is because of me that you are thus crippled. I have become your weakness. You said so yourself, once." She was shocked at how even her voice was, now. "You cannot do as you wish because you are ever worried for what may happen to me. Had you never come to Mirkwood, you would have been able to pursue the vampire as you wished. Now your honor binds you to us. So…I am sorry. If this had never happened, perhaps you would have killed the vampire before anyone could have been hurt."
"Or perhaps," he replied, still looking at her, "he would have killed you first, without anything to stop him. And then your family and your kingdom would have been bereft."
"But at least you would have been happy," she whispered.
"No," he said fiercely, surprising her. "I wouldn't. I would have continued as I was, hopelessly lonely, nearly meaningless, nothing but a machine meant to destroy, and I would have remained so until I died. God only knows how long that would have taken."
The tears would no longer be denied. She felt them slipping down her cheeks, as if they were burning a path in her skin. She had not wanted him to see her cry! "I'm frightened, Aidan. I'm scared to death. I'm sorry. I've tried to be strong. I've tried to be serene, and calm, and…but…I don't…"
She was startled to feel the touch of his hand on her face, and jerked away before she realised what she was doing, whirling to face him. "Oh!" she squeaked when their eyes met, and she realised how her actions could be taken the wrong way. But he did not look hurt, nor did she feel any injury from him. Instead, he only replaced his hand on her cheek, and brought the other up to frame her face.
"I know," he said softly. He met her forehead with his own. "I know. It isn't right that you should know this kind of terror. I am sorry. I am sorry that you have suffered like this. I wish I could have shielded you from it. I wish I could have ended it the moment I arrived here." He threaded the long fingers of one hand into her hair as he spoke. "You are strong, Aéllanwen," he said with conviction. "You are very strong. You have survived this long, and I swear you will see the end of this." His other hand moved down her face, the pad of his thumb brushing for a moment across her lips before he kissed her softly there.
It wasn't a kiss of passion. It wasn't even a kiss of need. It was comfort. He took the comfort and the love she had given to him only moments before and returned it in full. He caressed her mouth gently, opening her lips beneath his to touch her even deeper, and she felt so young and foolish and ignorant…more than that, she knew that she was, especially in his presence. And yet it didn't matter. She was glad to learn from him. As she was teaching him the emotions of love, he was teaching her the actions.
When they parted, he allowed her to take a moment to hold him close to her, her arms tight around his waist, under his cloak, and to press her face into his chest. She did not even reach his neck, he was so tall, and when he bent down to press his face into her hair, she felt as if she were shielded from all harm.
"Amin mela lle," she whispered.
"Tha gaol agam ort-fhèin," he replied. God help us.
Late that night, after darkness had long fallen, when the elf-maid known as Aéllanwen waited in safety with her brother, just outside her father's solar, where her hunter had long been discussing his discoveries of that day with the Lord of Mirkwood in worried and exhausted tones, a shadow crept over the largest bedroom in the palace, where the Lady of Mirkwood, alone, awaited the return of her husband.
Translations:
Melamin-"My love"
Amin mela lle- "I love you."
Tha gaol agam ort-fhèin- (Scots Gaelic)(pronounce: Hah GEUL AH-kum orsht-HEH-een)- "I love you, too."
A/N- Ack! All that wait and I ended a short chapter with a cliffie! Please don't hurt me. hides Besides, it's filler. Next chapter it gets really interesting. Anyway, many cheers and a cookie to anyone who recognises the phrase "Hunter of Peace" and can tell me where it came from. :) Please do review! Constructive criticism is very very welcome, but please, no flames. Flames are useless to me in every way. If you do not like my piece, I'm sorry, but there are many talented authors on this site , and I hope you will find something that suits you. :)
