Iced chills traveled down her spine. Images of the foul, vile creatures, with their grey sickly skin and haunting yellow eyes flashed through her head, their high-pitch cries and hungry snarls vividly crossing through her memory. She had to make an effort to force her thoughts in a different direction, to keep her mind focused on the large elegant room where they sat instead of wondering through nightmarish memories.
The pale moonlight on the late night sky cut through the crystals in the wall long windows, frail and absent, its cold serenity eaten away by the roaring flames in the fireplace. The air felt haunted in the consuming silence. No one had said anything, their thoughts probably wondering in the same direction as hers. Her forest green eyes kept looking at Lord Elrond's tall and regal figure, always so perfectly composed, as if expecting him to suddenly say something, to have the answer for the unspoken questions plaguing her mind, to give an order on what to do about the Orcs now circling the borders as they sat there quietly.
But the Elf-Lord did not speak. On the contrary, he rained there, standing as tall and peaceful as eves, his vast grey eyes, the color of a stormy sky, fixed on Arahaelon. And then, everything became clear to her. True, no one would ever doubt the authority of the Elf-Lord, but in this realm, here in the Kingdom of Mirkwood, he had none. He was greatly respected, and every elf followed his orders as a healer and royal guest, but when it came to decisions like this one, decisions about the realm, he could do nothing but advise if asked.
The Crown Prince had remained still, the perfectly defined features of his handsome face entire serene, a perfect impenetrable mask.
"What would you do?" Arahaelon's perfectly serene voice cut through the still air, the sound so calmed and at the same time carrying that undeniable authority that could order nature into silencing with the mere sound of his voice. Burning green eyes turned to look at Lord Elrond, as quiet and hard as frozen emeralds and at the same time as loud and consuming as the cries of the forest. In his own, silent way, the Crown Prince had asked for help.
"No elf except for those inside this room know that the protection around the realm has lifted, and neither do the Orcs. I would keep it that way. Avoid panic, there is already enough of it without the knowledge of a possible attack from the Orcs." The Elf-Lords voice was calmed, stern, as if emphasizing the importance of his words and yet his powerful grey eyes regarded Arahaelon in a fatherly way.
The Crown Prince just nodded his head, neither accepting nor denying the advise, but before her eldest brother could say anything a knock echoed on the door of the large Sitting Room.
"Enter." Arahaelon's steady yet calmed voice floated trough the air, so much like that of the King.
One of the large pair of beautifully carved doors was gently pushed open, only to reveal a tall, dark haired elf stepping silently into the room, bowing his head respectfully before speaking.
"The last patrol has just returned to the Palace, my Lord." The elf said, looking straight at Arahaelon. "Al the Captains wait for you at the King's study, as you order."
Once again, the Crown Prince just nodded, the elf bowing his head once more, accepting his silent dismissal before turning around and leaving the room, the door closing with a silent click behind him. Then, without a word, Arahaelon headed for the door, walking past Tadion who lowered his clear blue eyes to the floor as his eldest brother passed, suddenly looking like an ashamed elfling, longing for a forgiveness that had not yet been granted to him. It hurt to see her brother like that, her ever so carefree, welcoming and talkative brother suddenly so silent, the burden of his guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders.
Suddenly, the Crown Prince stopped his march, cold emerald eyes turning to look at his younger brother. Green met blue in a silent gaze, both faces perfectly composed, and she could almost feel the tension between the two, and yet, Tadion did not cower back, did not look defiant or proud, simply standing there, facing his eldest brother in humble silence, as if waiting to be judged, to silently accept his brother's ire at the poisonous words he had said to him. And yet, Tadion's clear blue eyes remained as open and warm as ever, drowning in regret, pleading for Arahaelon to say anything to him, even if it were words of anger.
The Crown Prince opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it again, silent emerald eyes, as impenetrable and distant as they could be watching Tadion in silence, no emotion betrayed in those hard emerald irises. There was no anger in them, but there was no forgiveness either.
"Legolas, come." Arahaleon suddenly called, his voice as clamed as ever, turning his eyes from Tadion to look at the front once more, not turning to glance back as he left the room.
She watched in despair as Tadion's eyes turned once again to the floor, not wanting to look at anyone as Legolas obediently followed Arahaelon out of the room in complete silence. Lossenel had remained perfectly still the entire time, like a perfect statue carved in the purest of ice, forgotten to the burning eyes of her brothers. One of the Princess; delicate pale hands travelled to rest at Tadion's shoulder, but the Prince did not seem to have felt it, and if he did he seemed determined to ignore it, clear blue eyes not lifting from the floor, burning with a new anger and pain that she had to look away. It was as if Tadion had been expecting to be called instead of Legolas. The silent sound of the door closing hit the air like a loud drum, silence once again consuming the room.
"You should all rest." Lord Elrond's steady voice broke the silence like a warm breeze in a cruel winters day. "You still have some hours before dawn. Try to get some sleep. You have had a long journey. As long as you stay inside the Royal Wing you will be safe, but do not wonder through the Palace freely. We do not know who we can trust."
Tadion did not seem to need to be told twice, immediately moving out of the room, not even to look at anyone as he forcefully pulled the door open and exiting the room at a quick pace. Lossenel's eyes turned to look behind her, ice green-blue irises, so filled with the purest of lights looking from Lord Elrond, to the twins then to her, smiling apologetically. Then ever so gracefully, the Princess left the room, following Tadion, the bright light of the torches in the endless hallway reflecting in her platinum hair and dancing over her long dark blue travelling cloak.
"Ada, you should rest too." Elrohir had stood up form his seat, slowly walking up to where his father stood, and she was once again faced with the realization of how much the twins resembled the respected Elf-Lord.
The Elf-Lord's face turned to look at his youngest son, Vilya still whispering quietly upon his finger, the dim blue light washing over his entire hand. "Come with me, Elrohir. I want to know what happened after you left."
With that, the Elf-Lord placed one of his steady hands gently on his son's shoulder, a soft smile brightening his face as he started to lead Elrohir outside the room. Elladan had also risen to his feet, gently pulling her to stand before wrapping an arm around her.
"And do not think for a second, Elladan, that I will not examine that wound on your back later tomorrow." Lord Elrond called back before exiting the piece, silver yes meeting his eldest son's equal pair, a dark eyebrow raised, the way someone looks at a mischievous child. Then, the Elf-Lord's stormy grey eyes turned to look at her, his expression softening for a moment. "Goodnight, Almarëa."
Elladan let out a single chuckle, shaking his head lightly, the sweet musical sound instantly seeming to warm the air. "And no goodnight, Elladan?"
"Goodnight to you too, Elladan." The Elf-Elrod called behind himself, his voice echoing to the sound of a smile, Elrohir turning his head to look as his twin as he continued to walk beside his father, narrowing his silver eyes with a slight shake of his head, a mocking grin reflecting the playful sparkle in his silver orbs.
"Come, Rina." Elladan's musical voice whispered in her ear once they had been left entirely alone in the elegant Sitting Room. "We should rest too."
Whether or not she nodded her head in reply, she was not sure, the exhaustion and worries of the past long hours suddenly weighing on her and she absently felt Elladan's gentle hand guiding her out of the room. The whole back to her own chambers was an unfocused blur, her mind too lost in thoughts of her own to pay attention here she walked, allowing Elladan to lead the way. She barely even noticed when they reached the familiar intricately carved door, Elladan opening it and allowing her inside first before closing it silently behind him.
Inside her chambers, the air felt colder. Her forest green eyes travelled all around her, taking in every detail, details she already knew all to well, and yet felt strange to her, almost like the first time she had ever entered these chambers. Everything around her was exactly in the same place as when she had last been here. The pale ivory curtains looked silver underneath the frail moonlight filtering freely through the open balcony. A fire already burned in the fireplace, but the flames did not seem to make the room any warmer for her. It was an odd sensation. She felt at home, and at the same time she felt as if she was in a strange place.
Elladan had walked to the elegant couch placed to one side of the room, and she found herself following him, lowering herself on his lap instead of on the plenty of empty space around. His safe arms laced warmly around her waist, and she allowed herself to lean into his chest, turning her head to look at his face. Endless eyes of liquid silver seem to drown her entirely, sparkling like stars on an empty moonless sky, so gentle, observing her carefully, as is she was made of fragile glass. One of her hands travelled to his face, tenderly placing one strand of his long silken dark hair behind one of his pointed ears. She felt his lips gently touching her forehead, placing there the lightest of kisses before his forehead came to rest against hers, their noses brushing.
"How are you?" Silver eyes looked straight trough hers as he spoke, his voice barely a whisper.
Unable to answer his question, she merely lowered her head, burying her face in the crook of his neck, her favorite hiding place, the only place where she felt she could if only for a second forget everything around her, simply breathing in his sweet scent. How could she answer the question when she herself did not have an answer. She felt scared, terrified really, nervous, exhausted, anxious. The image of the burning eye, melting away in red and orange flames, crushing her mind in darkness and loud haunting cries had never really left her head, the fresh memory flashing through her mind every time it got a chance. And then, there were Orcs waiting right outside the borders, the entire realm was on panic, nobody knew who could be trusted for sure, and for all she knew her father could very well be dying.
She felt Elladan's hands rubbing gentle, soothing circles on her back, the motion nearly lulling her to sleep, but her mind was in too much turmoil to sleep. She could feel his own worry and despair, his fear of not knowing what to expect, and his need to hold her close to him, as if focusing all of his attention on her gave him something to do, something to distract his mind, and she let him. She would let him hover over her al night long if he needed.
Elladan's hands slid from her back to her waist, and she could not hold back a loud squeal as his fingers suddenly tickle her, making her jump and reflexively wriggle out of his lap. His musical laughter floated through the room as he too stood up, walking to where she had ran to. His ever tender hand cupped her cheek, a gentle thumb caressing the edge of her mouth, where her smile ended. And then, her smile changed, no longer the after effect of his surprise tickling, but a new genuine smile. He always knew how to make her smile, even in the darkest of times.
"You really should rest, my love." Elladan's gentle voice sounded in her ear, and she simply nodded her head, allowing him to lead her to the large bed, climbing beside her.
She turned around, pressing her forehead to his marble chest as he carefully placed the feathers covered over the both of them, his arms securely wrapped around her small body protectively. She felt tires, exhausted really, and at last, in the safety of Elladan's gentle arms, of his soothing presence next to her, she succumbed to sleep, everything around her, all her fear, her worry, her anxiety, left behind into the forgotten…
She woke up to the silence of the night, a frail line of smoke in the fireplace demarcating the ghost of the long dead flames that had warmed the room. Darkness covered her eyes, the pale silvery moonlight casting gray shadows on every surface, brushing the long ivory curtains with lethargic silver fingers. It was not yet dawn; she must have slept only for one or two maybe.
Elladan was still laying by her side, his arms gently laced around her small body, long strands of silken dark hair tangling with her own golden locks, framing his handsome pale face, silver eyes open to the calmed night, glazed in elven sleep. For a moment, she simply looked at him. He looked so peaceful, so untroubled, finally resting after long restless nights. Ever so gently, she brushed away one strand of dark hair from his alabaster face, watching as he stirred slightly, but did not wake.
For a long moment, she simply lay there. Elladan's arms around her felt overly soothing, making her feel safe, and yet, the overwhelming silence, the amplitude of this enormous elegant room, made her feel restless. She would not get any more sleep that night, she knew it. Her eyes wondered through the room, her mind reliving the memory of a strong, harsh hand choking her. She shook her head lightly, trying to force her mind into another direction. She needed to get out of this room, it made her feel uneasy.
Carefully as to not wake Elladan, she silently climbed out of bed, watching as he stirred once more, rolling onto his other side in his sleep, mumbling something in elvish. A smile drew on her face, her hands readjusting the covers over him, placing the lightest of kissed to the edge of his mouth before heading out of the room. He was tired, she knew that. He needed his sleep.
Outside, the corridor was deadly silent, as if every soul in the Palace was peacefully sleeping, or to worried or scared to even make the slightest of sounds. The long shadows of the majestic tall columns stretched imposingly over the walls, like ghosts whispering to each other in the death of the ending night. For a second, she soot there, right outside her bedchamber's closed door. She did not know where to go, and wondering alone through the Palace at night was not a good idea.
The other four doors that led to her siblings' bedchambers were closed, no light glistening under it. So they must be either asleep or not there at all. For a second, her eyes scanned the place, her feet ready to walk down the long, empty corridor when she saw it. A lone figure sitting quietly on the oversized balcony at the far end of the hallway, the pale moonlight kissing his long blond hair in gentle touches of silver.
Arahaelon gave no indication to have heard her as she slowly approached, her feet seeming to be leading her on their own. She stopped at the edge of the balcony, not daring to step into it, as if scared of disturbing her older brother. Once again, she was overwhelmed by the sole feeling of his presence, so serene and yet so powerful, looking so noble and unreachable, making her feel incredibly young and naïve next to him.
The Crown Prince's impenetrable green eyes turned in her direction, once again swallowing her in those endless melted emeralds, so piercing and calmed and gentle at the same time. The softest of smile appeared on her eldest brother's face, one of his hands slowly gesturing for her to take the place next to him on the long fine chaise, his movements so effortless, as weightless and graceful as the wind.
Silently, she lowered herself next him, her lips curving up in a small smile. For a second, they remained silent, her eyes wondering over the open book on his lap. Instantly, she felt her eyes captivated in the enchanting collection of finely traced lines upon the blank page, dancing with one another in an endless waltz, tangling, joining and breaking apart, some as delicate and frail a hair, other strong and dark. The figure was one she recognized immediately. A lady's face drawn on profile, long platinum hair cascading down her back, perfectly tied in neat braids along a delicate diadem. Her eyes seemed to gleam as if she was alive, her mouth curved up in the gentlest of smiles, so warm and welcoming and at the same time so cautious and polite. The bottom of the page had been ripped apart, missing a piece, and for a second she wondered what had been there that had been so harshly taken away. There was not a single mistake in the drawing. It was flawless.
"That is Lossenel." She pointed out, her frail voice braking the silence of the night, her eyes meeting the Crown Prince's ones, green falling into green. Arahaelon simply smiled in return, one of his peaceful smiles that could order nature into silencing, once again making her feel overly young next to him, like a child.
"These are old drawings." He explained, his finger brushing thorough the pages of the book, revealing many other flawless figures, but his hands moved too fast for her to actually see them.
"Did you draw all of those?" She asked, even though she already knew the answer.
"Yes." His voice was soft, as serene as ever. Gently, he closed the book on his lap, as if not wanting to look at the drawings anymore.
Her eyes searched for a piece of charcoal or o quill with ink around, but there was none. The Crown Prince had not been drawing here in the balcony. He had simply been looking at the book. Her mind immediately went back to the desk she had seen in his bedchambers. It had been filled with blank papers, all of them spread in a disarray, not a single line on them. There had been many quills sitting neatly to one side, perfectly clean, not a single drop on ink on them, all the crystal flasks of the dark liquid filled to the top. They looked unused.
"Do you still draw?" She asked already dreading the answer that she could feel would come. The Crown Prince took his time before answering.
"No." His voice was barely a whisper, his eyes looking over the plain leather cover of the book, and for a second, just for a short second, she caught the slightest glint of longing and melancholic in his usually serene and composed voice. She did not ask anything else, dropping the subject instead, as silence ruled the night once again.
"Why did you do that, Ar?" Her lips voiced her question before her mind could stop herself, her large green eyes studying confused, searching into his impenetrable emerald irises.
"Do what?" He asked, looking slightly confused.
"To Tadion." She specified, her mind going around in circles trying to understand her eldest brother behavior earlier that night, her voice dropping to a barely audible whisper "Why did you not say anything to him? Why did you call Legolas instead?" It was not an accusation but an actual question, one se could not get herself to answer. "He longs for your forgiveness. He thinks you are still angry with him."
She did not know why she was saying this, from where she had gotten the courage to question her eldest brother, the one she would never hesitate to obey, the one who always seemed to have the last word, the right answer. And yet she did, she questioned him, and for a second, Arahaelon's impenetrable green eyes turned away from hers', lost into the stretching night outside.
"I am not angry with him, Rëa." He said, and she believed him, his voice as peaceful and patient as always, so honest and real. And still she did not understand.
"Then why did you not say anything?" She pressed, her soft voice dying in the cool night breeze as her eyes carefully studied him.
The Crown Prince remained silent for a moment, not turning to meet her eyes, his perfect face still entirely relaxed, a pale marble statue staring distantly into the forest outside.
"I do not know." He said at last, his voice so low she had to concentrate to hear him. And then something clicked, a little piece of realization she had not even thought of. Of course she had not thought about it, such a thing would have never even crossed her mind, it seemed impossible coming from Arahaelon, and yet she knew that it had to be true. It was the only explanation.
"You have not forgiven him." She voiced her thoughts, her fear, and even through the pain it caused to realize this it somehow felt oddly relieving to her, as if for just a second the Crown Prince of Mirkwood seemed like a regular elf, one able to feel anger and resentment, to make mistakes and not always have the morally correct solution.
Arahaleon's silence spoke louder than a thousand words. That was it. She had pointed out the exact thing he had not wanted to say.
"Why?" Was all she was able to say, her mind not able to understand what was going through his head.
Again, he remained silent. Long minutes danced between them, and then finally, he spoke once more.
"Because accepting his apology and granting my forgiveness would mean to admit that what he said was wrong" Again, his eyes did not turn from the distant night, leaving her even more puzzled.
"But it was wrong." She said, still trying to understand, the words leaving her mouth slowly, as if scared to push him to a point in which he would deny her the answers to her questions. "What he said was wrong."
"Was it?" Impenetrable emerald eyes turned to meet hers, large and consuming, burning with expectation and yet entirely silent, distant.
She opened her mouth, as if to say something, but closed it when she found she had nothing to say. What was there to say? His question had come as a shock to her. Arahaelon did not think what Tadion had said had been wrong, even though his younger brother had spoken in his anger and had not meant his words. The faintest of smiles crossed the Crown Prince's lips, his eyes turning once more to the forest below when she did not say anything.
"Perhaps what he said was the truth." His voice was lower than before, a shadow, his eyes not turning to look at her as he spoke. "I do not know what I am doing, Rëa. I cannot seem to make the right decision… I…I cannot be the King Adar is."
Her heart dropped to her stomach, her mind not able to conjure any word, silence engulfing them once more in its thin cloying hands. How had she never even thought about? How had her mind not even considered that, as any other being, the Crown Prince could also doubt himself. No. She had always expected him to know the answers, he always seemed to have them, always so confident, his sole eyes demanding a kind of authority she could never even dream of having. How had she not even stopped to think for a moment to realize that even he could feel as lost as she did. And still, even through his doubt, she would hesitate to follow him, to obey any of his commands.
And yet, she did not say anything. There was nothing to say. She simply sat there, offering her presence. That was all she had to give really. She had no idea on what to say, she had no comforting words. Like him, she did not have the answers. But he did not seem to be expecting her to say anything.
"You know." He continued, his voice as low as before. "Sometimes I think Tadion would make a better King than I will ever be. He is impulsive, yes, but he does not hesitate. He is not afraid of acting."
"Hesitation is good." She finally spoke, her hand placing a strand of her brother's long blond hair behind his ear. She knew the pressure Arahaelon was in at the moment. "Fear is good. It means you have something to lose, Ar."
"When did you become the wise one?" Green eyes, the same shade and color as her own, turned to meet hers, his warm peaceful smile back on his face, making her lips mirror it.
"When did you become the one who doubts himself?" She replied watching a light laugh escaped his lips in reply. The moment, however, only lasted a second, for Arahaelon's face turned serious once more, one of his arms wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.
"I just do not want to let him down again." He whispered. "I did that night. I let Naneth down too…If only I had…"
He stopped, as if realizing what he had been saying, but it was too late. She had heard, and now more than ever she wanted to understand. He had let down their mother? What was he talking about?
"What night?" She asked, fearing to get the reaction that she eventually got.
The Crown Prince tensed, his face a perfectly composed mask, not cold but not warm, simply serene. He did not say anything.
"What night, Ar?" She asked again, her voice remaining soft. A thought had already crossed her mind, but she did not want to jump into conclusions. Could it be the night that she had questioned Legolas about? The night that had led to her having to leave the realm as a baby?
"Nothing." He said, his voice soft but flat, a command. "Forget I said anything."
But she could not forget. She wanted to know. She needed to know. She remembered Lossenel's reaction when Legolas had suggested her to ask Arahaelon about that incident. The delicate Princess had become suddenly overprotective, nearly yelling at her not to dare ask. But why? What had happened?
"Ar-" She started but was stopped when he gently rose to his feet, gathering the book in his hands, ready to leave the balcony.
"Let it go, Rëa." He said, and for a second she was about to obey without even hesitating, as if her body could not defy him. His tone was stern, even though he was not angry or bothered, more like a warning.
Without another word he started to head back inside, and then, never knowing why she did it, why she threw out her question before she could loose the chance to ever ask it, she spoke, calling after him.
"Was it the night that drove me and our mother away? The one of the attack?" She spoke quickly as if throwing her words at the last chance she got.
Burning emerald eyes flashed in her direction, hard and impenetrable, entirely unreadable, a perfect glass barrier sealing everything that she had worked so many weeks to break. And suddenly she felt as if all of her progress had been thrown back, as if in a single second she had managed to take them back to the first time she had laid eyes on him, when she had not been able to see through any of his emotions, when he would be distant and overly careful with what he shared with her. Strangers. But they were strangers were they not? They were siblings by blood, but did really know each other enough to call themselves siblings? Or was it only a show of politeness and friendly interactions out of duty?
"Goodnight." His voice burned through her as he spoke, so cold and calmed, the same tone she had heard him use when addressing guards or advisors. Distant. Icily polite. And then, without even so much as a glance back, he walked back inside the halls, disappearing down the long hallway in the distance. And she had her answer. She had hit her target. It had been that precise night the one he was talking about.
She was sure she had never felt so frustrated in her life. She had been so close, so close, to getting that answer, and in her boldness, in her careless need to know she had ruined her chance. She should have let him speak, should have waited casually until the answers slipped his mouth without him noticing. But who was she kidding? Arahaelon would not answer her questions that easily.
She stayed there in the balcony, walking aimlessly its oversized perimeter, waiting as the soft breeze carried the minutes the corpses of the dead minutes away, never to return. Then, with a sight she started walking back into the Palace, back down the long hallway with the very familiar five doors on it. She did not know where she was going, her feet walking on their own through the Royal Wing of the Palace, not really knowing where she was headed until she found a familiar pair of grand wooden doors directly in front of her.
The guards flanking the doors opened them for her to pass without questioning , their eyes throwing her a sympathetic look. But she did not want their sympathetic looks, did not want to be pitied by anyone as she stepped into the King's chambers, holding her head as high and proud as she could. Inside the spacious antechamber were healers waiting patiently, some of them looking up at her as she passed, bowing their heads in silent and respectful greeting. She simply nodded her head, not even bothering to stop as her feet dragged her to the main bedchamber, closing the door silently behind her.
Inside, the bedchamber was empty, the bright roaring flames still dancing vividly on the grand fireplace, the room feeling almost too hot to be comfortable. Her eyes instantly turned to the bed, only to find her father's sleeping figure still lying comfortably underneath many heavy blankets. The King had not moved an inch since she had last seen him, his face looking all to pale for her liking, the covers and blankets swallowing his fragile figure.
Once again, she was overwhelmed by the way in which her father's injures spirit pulsated dissonantly, as if crying for help, his usually powerful presence feeling weak now. Silently, she approached the bed, carefully sitting at the edge of the mattress as to not wake him. But he would not wake. She could tell. His eyes were closed in the way or mortal sleep, indicated a deep healing sleep, he could even be unconscious for all she knew. And it scared her. Seeing the King, the figure that had seemed so powerful, so defiant and grand, now so reduced and vulnerable, eyes closed, scared her.
She did not know why she had come. Perhaps she wanted his company, or perhaps she had longed to see him awake and well. She did not know. Gently, she let her thin fingers brush down his cheek, her hand drawing back immediately as she felt how unnaturally cold his skin was. He felt like ice. Scared, she pressed her palm to his cheek, feeling for his temperature, and it felt as if she was touching ice.
She drew her had back quickly, but not for the same reason this time. No. this time, the moment her had had come in contact with his skin, something else had happened. She had felt it, so quick that it made her pull away immediately. She had felt his spirit trying to latch to hers, as if searching for an escaped from its tortured turmoil. And yet, she had felt it. She had felt his spirit touching hers, even if only for a fragment of a second.
She hesitated for a moment, all of her instincts suddenly telling her to touch him again, to press her palm to his cheek once more, to let his spirit latch to hers, to offer him some stability, some peacefulness. And yet, she felt frightened. She did not want to touch him. She had no idea of what would happen. What if she did something wrong? Could she do to him what she had to Arahaelon when she was nothing but a baby? Could she accidentally try to kill him? The King had not even stirred, still lying peacefully where he was. Her instincts commanded her louder and slowly, very slowly, she placed her palm to his cheek.
The connection was immediate. She felt his spirit latch to her, fragments and pieces of a torn soul crying to her, pulling her into its turmoil, into its never-ending agony. And she fell, trapped in its grasp, using all of her concentration to maintain her control, to never pull to hard onto his spirit, to him be the one pulling her instead of the other way around. It was hard. She could have never imagined how hard it would be. It was as if her entire body, her entire soul was screaming at her to pull him, to drag him to her, to absorb every piece of energy he had to give, and yet she restrained herself, feeling as if her mind was going in wild circles, spinning wildly for long moments as she was pulled into his agony.
It was overwhelming. The whispers of the trees plagued her mind, and she could feel their force pushing her away, keeping her always at a safe distance form the King's spirit, allowed to touch it but not to fully reach it, only close enough to offer the stability he needed. It felt like a barrier, a protective barrier that did not allow her to reach her father fully, the more she pushed to reach him the more the trees seemed to grip to him. She did not know what she was doing, the dissonant cries of her father's spirit too much for her to take, making her feel almost as if she was in real pain. Is this how the King felt? Could he feel this agony every time he was awake?
And then she reached it. It was as if the force of the trees, so deeply latched to her father's spirit, still claiming the connection that had been so brutally ripped apart, let her through. It was as if they knew who she was, as if they recognized her spirit, did not think her an invader that would pull the Elvenking away from their grasp. And it was then that she was able to reach it. The wildest of pains cursed through her body as she felt herself get in contact with the long sharp tear in her father's spirit. It was there, pulsating agonizingly, crying and screaming, consuming her, a flaring pain burning through her like fire the moment her spirit touched it. It was the most painful wound she had ever witnessed.
A hand suddenly flew to her arm, fingers abruptly curling around her wrist, and she suddenly pulled back, breaking the connection with her father only to find a wide pair of ice blue eyes staring back at her, sharp and warry. The King's eyes burned through hers, suddenly looking threatening, dangerous, his hand gripping her wrist with a strength unbelievable for someone in his condition. He was breathing sharply and she knew that he too had felt the flare of seething pain that came with the touch.
Ice blue eyes softened with realization after a second, seeming to finally understand that it was her the one sitting next him, the hand on her wrist dropping once again limply to the soft mattress. She remained there, frozen, her arms folded on her lap, unable to move, unable to speak. Her father's eyes studied her for a second, the expression in them one she had never seen before, shocked, perplexed, all of that mixed with blinding pain as he attempted to catch his breath.
She did not know what to do, guilt consuming her, burning her to ashes. What was she doing? What was she thinking? She, however, did not have much time to deliberate for at that instant the door to the bedchamber was pushed open, Melnor and two other healers rushing inside the room. They had most probably heard their King's gasp of pain. She stood up form the bed, quickly moving aside for the healers to approach. The Elvenking had closed his eyes tightly, still breathing heavily, brow furrowed in obvious pain as one of his trembling hands rubbed over his chest, as if feeling a wound that was not really there.
"My Lord!" She could hear Melnor exclaiming worriedly, his expert hands quickly assessing his King's vitals, trying to calm him down. "Get him something for the pain." The healer commanded, one of the other two healers quickly exiting the room.
The head healer's eyes turned to her direction, silently, almost desperately asking her is she knew what was ailing his King, but she remained silent, her eyes betraying her fear more than her guilt, and the healer understood that as a no, focusing his eyes once more on her father. Not knowing what to do, she did the only thing she could think of. She left the room, her feet and body telling her to run away, to return to her chambers, that she had already made too much damage for one night.
The guilt felt heavier with every step. Her father had been sleeping peacefully, and she had come to wake him to his pain. Who had told her to try to reach for him? What had she been thinking? She did not even once considered that it might be painful for him. She wanted to kick herself because of that. And yet, there was thought that could not stop crossing her mind. She had reached the wound. She had felt it, had touched it, came in contact with it. The wound the healers could not see, the one Lord Elrond could not reach. She had reached it. She had not healed not, not even close to that, but she knew she had not caused any more damage to it, only the flare of pain that came with the contact, but she had reached it….
Here is chapter 33! I hope this wait was not too long! Please let me know what you think! And I hope you enjoy this chapter and that it brings a smile to your face!
Also, again thank you so so much to those of you who reviewed my latest chapter, I can't tell you how much your comments make my day and inspire me to write the coming chapters, each one of your comments is unique and it points out particular things that you noticed or liked in the chapter and I find that so overly amazing. Thank you! Jibril-Kadamon, Lady Syndra, Martine9295, Mary Elrondile, Tincalad, The Lead Mare, Jasperslittlesister, Paperlanterns86, AmazingWriter123, Elves are Awesome, CeffylGwyn and my guest reviewer!
Love,
Elena