Chapter 16
Leda rapped her knuckles against the large wooden door.
She was being inpatient and probably rude, too. But sleep had been difficult the night before. Plagued nightmares filled with sickly-gleaming graves deep in the bowels of the mountain and bandages slick red with blood.
When Lindir came to wake her up, she'd been singularly focused on doing anything to shake cloying memory of her dreams. And the only way to do that, was to do something about it.
Unfortunately, Lindir had been less than accommodating of her moral one-eighty. He'd immediately began espousing reprimands about protocols and tradition but after watching her march through the halls in the wrong direction, he'd eventually relented into showing her the way.
"As I explained before," He hissed as she raised her fist to knock again. "You cannot assume yourself an invitation to my Lord's study. You will not be seen. No matter how much you-"
She rolled her eyes and knocked again, grinning as Lindir's eyes widened.
"I'm sure it's fine." She waved him off. "And it's important. I just have to speak to them. I-"
Lindir held up a hand and cut her off. He cocked his head, exposing the tip of an ear. It swished left, then right and then he nodded.
"You have been granted an audience." He said, reaching his long arm past her to push the door open. He beckoned her to enter with a jerk of his chin.
Leda blanched.
"Aren't you coming too?" She squeaked.
Lindir smiled, but it was a bit too smug for it to be a comfort in any way. "No. You face them alone.
"But Lindir-"
He pushed her through the threshold with his free hand and let the door bang shut behind her.
He shoved her into a large room with a high, domed ceiling with archways that let in natural light.
To the left the walls were lined with shelves of books and scrolls, and to the right, tucked into an alcove was a set of steps that led up to a second floor of books above that wrapped around the room.
At the back, a cluster of plush, indigo sofas were arranged near to a dead fireplace and in the middle of the floor was a great circular stone slab, surrounded by heavy wooden chairs. Little wooden carvings were scattered across its smooth surface but she was too far away to make out what they were.
"A library." She whispered in awe.
One of the chairs moved back, making her jump.
"A 'War Room'." Elrond corrected as he stood to is full height.
Another chair moved, this time revealing Celeborn who remained seated.
She hadn't seen either of them in what felt like forever, but in reality, it had only been a day.
Elrond set down a scroll he had been holding, clasped his hand in front of his deep blue robe and regarded her coolly.
After an awkward beat, Leda realised they were waiting for her speak.
"I'm sorry for before." She announced, cringing at the way her voice echoed around the room. "And about now, too, I guess."
Other than Celeborn blinking, they gave her no response.
"I mean, I'm sorry." She corrected. "I shouldn't have demanded anything when your people saved my life. Olorin was right and I... don't have anything like this back home."
If possible, she cringed even more. She wasn't sure she'd ever sounded so privileged in her life. She looked to Elrond for help- any help. But all he did was tilt his head to the side as if to say: go on. Which she guessed she deserved for how rotten she'd been acting.
"I shouldn't make excuses. I'm sorry. I should have been better and I shouldn't have judged you." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for being awful. I'm thankful. I owe you my life. And if there's anything I can do to help- I'll do it. It's the least I owe you."
The silence stretched for so long that she was about to awkwardly shuffle back out of the room the way she came when Celeborn pursed his lips and said:
"Why are you sorry? Why are you apologising now?"
She hadn't been expecting that question at all.
"I just..." She shrugged helplessly. "I wanted to help."
"Yes. But why now?" He persisted.
It was suddenly very hard to keep eye contact. "I spoke with Olorin." She said quietly. "He explained some things."
He hummed. "So, you were shamed into seeing the truth?"
Shames rolled across her skin. She could lie- make up an excuse. But if they were giving her a chance to plead her case and make it right, she had to be honest with them. "Yes. I was."
They began to talk lowly to one another, too far away and too quick for Leda to understand. They spoke for so long that she worried she had lost her chance to.
"I really am ashamed." She said quietly. They stopped talking and looked at her blankly. Had she come too late? "I just want to help. If you'll have me."
Celeborn blinked, gave a simple nod and then turned back to the table, rolling out the scroll Elrond had discarded. Elrond approached her slowly, eyes softening with every step. Maybe it wasn't too late after all.
"Come." He said, passing her on the way to the door. "I believe I know just the place."
. . .
"I do not want her."
The woman who spat the words was tall, wearing a shapeless grey dress that was splattered with dark brown stains. Her eyes were narrow, so it looked like she was almost-squinting and she absolutely wanted nothing to do with Leda's redemption tour.
They were back in the large Hospital- 'The Halls of Healing', Elrond had corrected her along the way.
Leda had been surprised, sure that whatever placement they'd give her would be gender typical of a medieval society like sowing or food preparation. But instead, he'd brought her there and for the first time since she'd arrived, she felt an assuredness fill her. She'd spent her first days in the Stronghold feeling like one of the leaves she'd brought with her from the island; untethered and drifting. But Leda was a doctor. Here, she knew exactly what she was doing. She could be useful. If the tall brunette who was currently sneering at her wasn't so adamant that she wasn't wanted.
"Mereneth-" Elrond tried.
"No." She said turning on her heel to walk deeper into the hall.
More thin gauze curtains had been hung from above, acting as makeshift walls and corridors. As they followed Mereneth through and under, Leda realised with worry that there must have been another attack.
"I have no want nor need for her." Mereneth said as they followed her into a room made of curtained walls. The gauze must have been 'magic' though, because as soon as it fluttered shut behind them, all the noises from outside muted.
There was a patient on the bed. An Elven male. He only looked about eighteen and it made Leda feel sick. A child fighting a war. She was careful to keep any judgement out of her face. She was supposed to be offering her help. She could judge them when they were done saving her life.
Mereneth roughly pulled one the patient's trouser legs up and flicked his bandaged knee, rolling her eyes at his answering hiss.
"Mereneth, please." Elrond said, following Mereneth as she walked out.
"Tell me what she can do that any other cannot?" Mereneth demanded as she led them out and through a curtain lined quasi-hallway to an actual room carved out of the rock at the end of the walkway.
Leda's eyes widened as they walked in. Was she standing in a...lab?
The entire backwall was made up of shelves with baskets of herbs and jars of weird fluids. To the right a long stone table stood in front of a window, atop it was glass tubes filled with opaque amber liquids and blurry objects floating inside.
Mereneth said something, but Leda was too fascinated by the room to understand.
On the end of the table there was contraption that looked a hell of a lot like a medieval version of a chemistry set. Thin metal tubes welded to smaller tubes and jars and one large glass jar inside which looked like an oily substance with a rock inside. It looked like... Well, it couldn't be but...what if it was?
"Mereneth, be reasonable." Elrond said, exasperated.
"She is a liability and I will not-"
"Are you refining metals?" Leda blurted out, whirring to face them.
Pointedly, Mereneth did not turn to look at her and Leda deflated a little. Elrond sighed, and for a moment, looked much older than his years.
"She must do something, Mereneth." Elrond said. He sounded desperate. "Please. I do not want to order you."
Mereneth's shoulders slumped and Leda felt like a child stuck between two parents arguing about who would take her for the summer. It wasn't a very nice feeling.
"So do not." Mereneth muttered.
"Please." Elrond said quietly.
"So be it, My Lord." Mereneth relented softly.
When her gaze finally slid to Leda's, her tone hardened. "But your credentials mean nothing to me. You will not touch a patient until you have proven yourself capable."
Wasn't exactly the vote of confidence she had been hoping for, but that was fine. Leda had dealt with worse. This would just be like Foundation Year One. And she loved proving stuffy clinicians wrong.
. . .
It was not, she realised staring down at her bruised fingers and broken nails hours later, anything like Foundation Year 1. It was worse.
She'd never been one to be a dick about her job. She never let anyone call her doctor outside of work and she never mentioned it on a rare occasion that she spoke to someone new. In fact, her and Annette used to make fun of Pete, one of the six A&E Consultants at St Philomena's, when he always used to say I'm Doctor Marks in this smarmy voice whenever he would greet a patient.
She'd always made a point to reject the self-importance a lot of the other Junior Doctors displayed. That wasn't, she'd always reasoned, why she'd gotten into the profession in the first place. She didn't do it for the salary (pitifully small as it was) or for the shits and giggles of calling herself a doctor. She did it because it was deeply important for her to keep people alive.
And it had been hard. Really hard. She'd almost given up on multiple occasions. Her hair had thinned, she used to wear a mouth guard because she was so stressed, she'd grind her teeth in her sleep. It was a messy, awful time getting to the point where she was now. But she'd done it. And she was proud of herself. But even though she hadn't the pomp and narcissism that affected a lot of her fellow clinicians, she knew without a doubt, that she was damn good at what she did.
So, she couldn't help the deep insult when, Elrond leaving her with Mereneth to run his Kingdom or whatever it was he did when he wasn't entertaining her, she had been handed an ancient pestle and mortar and a bag of leaves.
"Grind them to dust." Mereneth had snapped.
Leda stumbled under the weight of the large stones and gaped up at the tall elf.
"Your people do understand how to pulp medicinal herbs, do they not?"
Leda's mouth popped open. Her people? Did Mereneth think she was an idiot?
Mereneth lips curled into a cruel smile. "Or was I mistaken and you still crawl on your hands inside your faeces covered caves until you die of exposure?"
And then just like that, some of the pomp of and egotism she'd mocked in her colleagues flooded her. And, surprisingly, so did indignation at the insult she felt for the humans of Middle Earth.
As a black woman, Leda was well aware of racism and sexism and pretty much all the other isms colonialism had passed down. But she'd proudly never experienced speciesism. Until now, that is.
Her head felt hot as she struggled to form a reply through her anger.
"I'm a doctor. I think I can-"
"Ah, you think, do you?" Mereneth sneered. "Uncommon for the Second Born to possess such an ability."
"Second bor-" Leda spluttered. "Look I don't know-"
"No. You do not know." Mereneth cut in. "I expect for the bag to be ground to dust by tonight."
And then she left, leaving Leda in such shock that it took her a full half hour to stop ranting out loud to herself about the elf's attitude.
Who on earth did she think she was? Leda was a doctor- she knew how to- and she could-
Even her thoughts had been shocked, electrified by rage into a disjointed mess. Angrily, she'd sat on the floor and pulled one of the spikey, nettle-like leaves from the bag. It smelled acrid, like burned spice and her nose wrinkled as she threw it into the grey mortar bowl.
"Do I know how to 'grind leaves into dust?" She'd scoffed. "I'm not a fucking idiot. I can figure it out. I have Doctorate for Christ's sake. I think I can figure out stupid leaves."
Except of course, that she couldn't.
At first, it'd been easy. Her hands ached, but she managed to get through a quarter of the bag before the witch strode back into the lab.
Leda had been triumphant, smug even, as she showed the woman, who looked only shy of thirty or so, her ground herbs. But the smugness quickly bled away as Mereneth's mouth thinned into a harsh gash across her lower-face.
"This is what your people call 'dust'?"
Leda blanched, looked to the bowl she'd been putting the ground herbs into- only now seeing what it took Mereneth half a second to notice: a few thick stems she hadn't managed to pulverise, bits of leaves the size of her little toe-nail.
"Well-"
"I did not instruct you to grind these herbs for simple pleasure." Mereneth bit. "The fine remains are used for poultices to treat infected wounds or they are strained into tea to subdue patients in pain. Do you think they will appreciate surviving a battle with an Orch only to choke to death on the tea that you have left stems in?"
Leda's cheeks felt like they were being held against a fire. "I-"
"Or do you think their wounds will heal when we grind the flecks of jagged leaves into their open sores?"
Leda's mouth felt dry.
"Throw your previous...work," Mereneth sniffed. "Away and begin again."
And Leda did exactly that. After Mereneth had trounced off, she'd started from scratch and worked until the bag was empty.
Now, hours later, she looked down at her hands, at the broken nails and bruises. And the specks of red where she'd been holding the pestle too hard and broken the capillaries at the top of her index finger.
It was going to hurt like hell in the morning, but as she looked down at the bowl of fine dust that would help someone like Gildor, pride filled her chest.
"You'll need Arnica for the bruising."
She jumped, almost knocking over the bowl.
Elrond swept passed her and took a heavy seat behind the desk. His shoulders slumped, and a shadow passed across his face. He looked exhausted. As exhausted as a near-perfect aesthetic being could be, that is.
What must it be like, she thought, to be responsible for so many lives when you were so young?
The urge to say something filled her so she blurted the first thing that came to mind.
"What's Arnica?" She asked.
He leaned back in his chair and pointed to the bowl in her.
"That is Arnica. Mereneth will mix the dust with an oil to make a paste. We use it to treat wounds and offer pain relief."
"Oh." She said, not knowing what else to say. Was that her queue to leave? She was about to make her excuses, but he stopped her.
"The people of your land. Earf. They do not use Arnica?"
"Oh." She blinked, surprised. "No, we don't use Arnica. We have different medicines. And we don't make them like- ...like this."
He drummed his fingers against his desk before reaching down and placing something on the table. It took her a moment to place the miniature glass bottle with a silver top. At first it looked as foreign to her as the leaves from Telperion had. But as soon as she recognised it, she was up and moving, bowl of hard work long forgotten.
He snatched it out of her grasp just as she reached for it.
"What is this?" He demanded.
Her hand dropped and she stared at the vial with longing. She hadn't even thought about it in days. But now it was here, sitting innocuously in front of her like it had never left, the urge to touch it and hold it was almost overwhelming. Sure, it was just a vial. But it was also the first thing of home she'd seen since Glorfindel took her bag. It wasn't wooden, or metallic armour or rough rock. It was glass. Man-man, manufactured, factory produced glass. And that was weirdly comforting.
Elrond made no move to give it to her.
"It's ten milligrams of morphine." She sighed.
He rolled it between his hands. "And this is one of your... medicines?"
"Yes. It is."
He made a soft noise at the back of his throat and then dangled it out to her. Her eyes narrowed, darting from bottle to his face and back again. For one horrible second, she thought it was some cruel joke, but when she looked at him, he only looked curious. And determined.
"Teach me about your medicine." He said seriously.
She blinked. That wasn't what she had been expecting at all. "What?"
He darted forward and yanked her wrist towards him. His palm was calloused and dry as he flipped her hand palm up.
"Teach me," He pressed the morphine bottle into her palm and closed her fingers around it. "Of your medicine."
He pulled away and she tightened her fist around the vial until she was sure it would crack. Relief made her feel oddly steady. In that moment, she was sure she'd say yes to anything he asked after the gift he'd given back to her.
"Ok." She breathed and watched the way his eyes lit up. "Where do you want me to begin?"
. . .
Turns out, when Elrond said he wanted to start at the beginning he meant at the beginning. She'd never been a very good History student. The last she'd done of it had been a GCSE Module medicine throughout history and she'd barely scrapped a B.
"And then the string basically held the veins together until they healed. I think in the early days they used velvet-"
Mereneth swept into the room like a storm. She stopped beside Leda and snatched up her bowl, shaking the contents inside from side to side.
Elrond's mouth pulled taut.
"Well met, Mereneth." He greeted warily.
Mereneth grimaced, shook the bowl again and shot Leda an acidic look. If she didn't know any better, she'd guess the elf was mad she hadn't screwed up again.
"...This will still need to be sieved." Mereneth eventually conceded.
And it was enough of a small win that the throbbing ache in her fingers was sort of worth it.
Elrond cleared his throat and said something in a language that sounded like Sindarin but had words that seemed to fall apart in her mind like snow in water. Mereneth replied hotly and shot her another mean look before seeming to given in to whatever mini argument had just transpired.
"You will return at dawn. I will deliver you a task." She ground out. Leda's heart swelled with purpose. "You are dismissed."
"Mereneth-" Elrond began.
"Do not ask for what I am incapable of giving." She snapped. Then, in a flutter of stained, grey skirts, she departed the way she came.
Elrond frowned deeply. All the years that left him while they talked flooded back, and he looked like a man who had countless lives resting on his shoulders. Leda wasn't sure what to do with the hot rush of sympathy, that warmed her chest.
He sighed, and motioned for Leda to exit too.
"Go and seek Gildor." He said, waving a hand at the door. "I am told he has been annoying the healers asking for you. I will send LIndir to escort you back to your rooms."
Mention of Gildor filled her mind and she grinned, leapt up and began to leave but something pulled her back just as she reached the door. She looked back, at the way Elrond seemed smaller than he had just ten minutes before. That same hot sympathy flared in her chest and she found herself blurting something else at him:
"Will you come back? Tomorrow, I mean?"
His eyebrows rose. "Are you trying to bargain more of your items back, Miss Ackerman?"
Leda snorted, and almost kicked herself for not trying it first.
"No. But I'm a bit annoyed I didn't think of that."
His lips quirked into a rare smile.
"I just thought..." She trailed off. "Well- I'm only an eighth through my history of medicine knowledge. I thought maybe you'd like to come back so we could...Y'know. Talk. Or something."
He watched her quietly for a moment before nodding slowly, once.
"Yes." He said softly. "I will come."
She left Elrond's weird lab feeling a little giddy, making her way around the edge of the Hall, to where she guessed Gildor's room was. She felt accomplished. Even if all she did all day was probably less than grunt work in the Stronghold. She'd still done something and mostly succeeded. It felt good. No- it felt great.
And, weirdly, she wanted to tell someone. She wanted to share it. And she was so excited to do so that she burst through Gildor's curtained doorway like an excited child, already speaking before her eyes had had time to adjusted to the gloomy room.
"Gildor you'll never guess what I- Oh!" She exclaimed. Because that wasn't Gildor's room at all.
The room was of similar shape and size, a desk by a window-hole, a large rumpled bed in the centre but in the corner was a small table, and two purple velvet armchairs.
At first, she thought she was alone, but then she saw a glimmer rustle, and then the peak of a turning head and eyes like cold ice peering at her over the back of an armchair.
"You." Galadriel rasped, pinning Leda with her stare.
All of her giddiness fled with her breath.
"Oh- yes. Me." She said lamely. Behind her, the curtain door fluttered back into place.
Galadriel only stared.
"I should go." Leda muttered, taking a step back. "I apologise for barging in. I thought that Gildor was-"
"What is a goun?" Galadriel asked. One of her hands curled around the back of the chair as she hoisted herself higher.
Leda blinked. "Sorry- Apologies. A what? I don't know what you're"
"A goun." Now Leda could see the tops of her angular cheeks as the elf narrowed her eyes. "I could not see much. But I saw the woman. With the long face and long hair. Astreed. She held something you feared."
Leda's stomach dropped. Her heart fluttered uneasily as she remembered Astrid and the gun she'd brought to the island.
How the hell did Galadriel know? And why did she want to know what that awful thing was?
"I don't think I know what you're talking about." She hedged.
Galadriel's lip curled. "You lie. You fear much. I can smell it. I do not need my second sight to perceive it." Her hand tightened against the chair. "And yet that small black thing she held- such fear. Such nausea... Why?"
She could easily tell the elf what a gun was. Could probably do a decent estimate of how it worked mechanically, too. And write a detailed report on the devastation it caused to human bodies but something held back her back. It was the way Galadriel's was looking at her- eyes blown wide, pupils dilated. It was unsettling. And it looked like...greed.
"You are reluctant to tell me more." Galadriel guessed as the silence dragged.
A shiver skittered along her back. Something niggling at her to leave.
"I just don't think we should discuss it."
"And you would think this why?"
This wasn't working at all. "I should go." She said quickly, changing tactics. "Gildor is probably wondering where I am."
"No armour. No spears nor arrows or swords. Just one gangly human and a thing in her hand that made you think of death." Galadriel needled. "It could aid us. And yet you would deny me knowledge in the language which I gave you?"
"No!" She expelled, frustration bubbling. "I'm not denying you- I just know enough about introducing foreign substances to host bodies to know that you don't just start explaining the mechanics of modern warfare to a species that I'm almost certain is their Neolithic period!"
The room trilled with the final note of her tirade. She knew immediately that she shouldn't have said it. She shouldn't have come into the room at all. And as Galadriel barked out a cold laugh, Leda realised just how deeply she'd screwed up.
"You think us simple." Galadriel sneered.
"No- that wasn't what I said-"
Galadriel laughed again and when she spoke, her voice was like a whip of ice against Leda's skin.
"You did not have to say the words for the meaning to be true! It is there. On your face. In your snideness."
Leda shook her head frantically. Christ – how the hell had this all gone so wrong? "No- no. I'm trying. I just helped Mereneth- I'm trying-"
"It is in your disregard." Galadriel pretended as if she hadn't spoken. "Olorin thinks you a marvel- an amusement. He believes he sees something in your heart."
Shadows rolled into the room. The gathering dark made Galadriel's face look skeletal, and her skin took on a greenish hue.
"But I have watched my people fall to swords for five thousand of your years." She boomed. Her voice rebounded off the walls, sounding like it was coming from all directions. "You are arrogant. And do not see the gift before you nor the gratitude to fall upon your knees to seek thanks for your life."
A breeze picked up around them, whipping Leda's too-long tunic against her legs.
"The leaves you so carefully throw." Galadriel's eyes glowed white, and the back of the chair splintered in her grip, causing flints of wood to clatter to the floor. "The preciousness of them ignored. The significance of them so readily snubbed by you. The Unworthy."
A weight landed on Leda's shoulders. Whether it came from the force of Galadriel or her own shame, she didn't know, but she stumbled backwards and caught her back against the stone wall. It felt like something was squeezing her lungs
"You're wrong." Leda rasped into the whistling wind. "I'm not-"
"Wrong?" Galadriel spat. "I am not wrong. I am Artunis of Aman and I am not wrong about you, Leda Ackerman."
Leda tried to speak but the wind pushed against her throat, cutting off her words. She struggled for a moment against its force until a streak of silver darted into the room, cutting between them and stopping whatever storm Galadriel had conjured.
"Mother! I felt you from the Council Room- what is this? Are you well?" The streak shouted over the noise.
The answer was instantaneous. The wind ceased. The shadows retreated. The glow around Galadriel dimmed. And the pressure that had Leda half cowed against the wall vanished, leaving her sagged against the rock, gulping air into her constricted lungs.
Galadriel sniffed at the interruption. She unfurled her fingers from the ruined chair and huge chunks of wood broke and fell to join the splinters on the floor.
The streak turned, and eyed Leda warily.
Leda only half recognised her. Maybe she'd been in the room when Olorin had helped her understand.
"I am well enough, Celebrian." Galadriel croaked, slumping back down in the armchair. Now only her eyes were visible, tired and wide.
Celebrian kept he gaze locked on Leda; mouth slightly downturned. They stared at each other for another beat before Celebrian jerked her chin to the side where the door was.
"Go." She commanded.
Leda, who wasn't going to wait to be told twice, gave one last fearful look to Galadriel and fled on legs that wobbled like jelly.
. . .
She walked aimlessly for a time, deep in thought.
Whatever stunt Galadriel pulled had left her feeling drained and angry. She didn't even know how it had all gone so terribly wrong. She'd gone a decade without speaking very much at all, five seconds in an alternate bloody dimension and she couldn't keep her mouth shut.
And anyway, she thought angrily, balling her hands into fists. She wasn't arrogant. She wasn't...unworthy. If anything, she decided, it was Galadriel who was the worst. Leda didn't know jack about magic, but she was sure if she was had the ability to summon storms whenever she got a bit pissed, she wouldn't use it to bully women into telling her about foreign weapons.
What even was the point? It wasn't like Leda could build her a gun. And even if she could, she wouldn't. Ingenuity of the elves aside, she wasn't about to be the one to introduce-
Something crunched under her foot, startling her. She looked up, shocked to see that her wandering had brought her to the Cave Garden.
It was dark- the sun had already set, but the moon wasn't out yet so none of the glowing night flowers had opened, yet.
Peeking around, she checked to make sure she was alone before kicking off her shoes. She dangled the weightless slippers from her fingers, pushing down with her toes as she walked to feel the dirt.
For a while she was alone with her muddled thoughts, until she rounded a corner to see the one person capable of making her feel even worse than she already did.
Glorfindel stood in the middle of a small clearing like he had before. Golden hair free of braids, face bent to the sky, clutching one of her silver leaves in his hands.
Seeing him was definitely not on her list of things to do after a wash-out of a day. Quiet as she could, she tried to turn back the way she'd come, but it seemed he had other plans.
"Miss Ackerman." Glorfindel drawled as his eyes slid open, halting her retreat. "We meet again."
Leda grimaced and wished she was literally anywhere, but there. Back at the Brew-inen being shot at with arrows was preferable.
"Sorry." She muttered, edging back. "I was just leaving."
"So soon?" He quipped.
Her eyes narrowed. There wasn't anything in his placid expression to say he was mocking her. In the right light, he might have even looked bored. But there was something in his voice. In the slight lilt to the word 'soon' that had her hackles raising.
"No." She huffed. And then, conscious that she looked poised to run, she straightened and took a pointed step towards him. "I just didn't want to interrupt whatever you were doing with that leaf."
His eyebrow quirked. "I see."
Now she was sure he was mocking her.
"Mereneth informed me you have taken station within the Halls of Healing."
Already feeling attacked after a day full of Mereneth's disdain and whatever stunt Galadriel's had just pulled, Leda crossed her arms over her chest in defence.
"Yes." She sniffed. "So, what?"
"It came as quite a surprise to me." He mused with a small shrug. "I only assumed that you would spend your duration here within the walls of your room."
It wasn't an insult but it sounded a hell of a lotlike one.
"I leave my room." She said lamely.
"Yes." His lip curled. "I have heard about your tour with Olorin."
He didn't sound at all happy about it.
"Look if this is about what I said before..." she trailed off. "I already told Olorin and Elrond that I didn't mean any of it."
"Ah." He hummed. "Yes. And they of course believed you."
"Let me guess." Leda said. "You don't?"
All traces of bemusement left him face. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "No. I do not."
Maybe she was tired. Or maybe it's because her hands were still aching and Galadriel had basically implied, she was nothing but scum but Leda was abruptly tired of always being the one in trouble.
"Look." She took a step forward and had to crank her neck back to keep eye contact with him. "I don't know what problem you have with me but-"
"I do not have a 'problem' with you, Miss Ackerman." He interrupted.
Leda threw her hands up. "Then why-"
"You are the problem."
Her eyes widened. And for a second, she felt as she had with Galadriel. Small.
She hated it. And with a shock she realised that she might hate him, too.
"Everything you are is an amalgamation of what should not be." He said, staring down his long, proud nose. "Your very presence disrupts the will of my deliverers and now- with you here...you are a problem, Miss Ackerman. The problem."
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
"You are like a void. I can see around you- around the impression you make on this land but not through you." His voice changed, and for one small second, she glimpsed something unexpected in his gaze. Desperation. "You are a mystery, do you understand? The Stronghold cannot afford mysteries."
Something occurred to her then. Something she felt stupid for not getting before.
"It was you." She murmured.
"I do not mean to be cruel." He continued. And if she wasn't in a daze, she might have actually believed him. "I do not mean to test you. But you must understand. Nothing will assuage me from my mission. And you obscure my mission for you were not foretold."
"It was you." She said louder and he frowned. Through the ruffle of his loose hair, his ears twitched.
"I do not understand your-"
"You voted to send me away." She accused, eyes widening incredulously. "Olorin said Elrond argued for me to stay. That someone thought I should leave. And it was you. You wanted me to go and wash your hands of me."
He blinked slowly. Exaggeratedly. It was enough of an admission that she scoffed humourlessly.
"Of course, it was you." She muttered acidly.
His jaw clenched. "The stronghold cannot afford mysteries, Miss Ackerman. No matter how intriguing."
Her gaze dropped. She couldn't look at him. She could feel his eyes, like twin flames roving across her cheeks. But if she looked at him – if she locked eyes with him again, she was scared she'd do something dumb. Like insult him and get herself thrown out. Which hadn't been a worry until right that second.
The heat of his eyes left her skin momentarily.
"Lindir." He called out.
A shadow crept beside her. She didn't have to look to know it was her jailor and companion.
She suppressed a cringe, feeling exposed. How long had he been there for? How much had he heard?
"Escort your charge to her room." Glorfindel continued. "And then join Lord Celeborn and myself in the Council Room."
"Yes, My Lord." Lindir bowed, before turning, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder to steer her back the way she had come.
She let herself be towed for only a few steps before she shrugged off his hand and spun back to her new tormentor.
"You and Galadriel think I'm just some...harbinger of doom. But I'm not." She was annoyed by how thin her voice sounded. "I'm just lost. But you don't care. You made up your mind about me the moment you met me and have judged me ever since."
Despite the distance between them, the shine in his eyes grew until it shadowed his angular face.
"Did you not also commit the same against me?" His voice was hard. "Why should I not afford you the same courtesy?"
Lindir rested a hand on her shoulder and gently pulled her away. She could feel Glorfindel's eyes on her back as they climbed the stone steps. She turned back as they entered the tunnel out, but despite still feeling his gaze, he was nowhere to be found below.
Hello!
It's been a very long time. And I fear it will be a long time before I can update again. I'm averaging about 4 essays due every 2 months while working full time. But from February I get to drop one of my Postgrad programmes! So I'll have way more time (to not write).
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I know a lot of people had a (understandable) issue with Leda's decisions, but I've been working towards this first lesson for a while so I hope you think I did it semi OK.
I hope everyone is well! What a year, right? I'm ready to sleep for a long time at Christmas. Thank again you for all your support. I'm just so grateful to all of you for the nice things you say or the things you help me with.
As usual, I welcome your thoughts and/or criticism. If anyone has any advice how to time-skip in stories without feeling like you're losing character bonding please teach me your secrets lol
Come find me on twitter if you want to call me names because I take months to write chapters username: aobh_fanfiction
All my joy to you all, forever.
Aobh x