Almarëa

by Elen-Silver Star

There were so many things she needed to know. So many things she wished she remembered. And so many things that still remained secret. And yet, even in the forests of Mirkwood, the powerful blue-stoned ring, Vilya keeps calling to her, and her father, King Thranduil seems to know things he is not yet willing to share... Sequel to Elerrina, ElladanXOC

34. No Holding Back

Her hands trembled. The faint light of the flickering torches bounced over the cold and majestic walls in a waltz of yellow and red, feeling so distant, so quiet and vacant. She could hear the fading frantic voices of the healers behind her as she walked, the door of the King's bedchambers falling closed with a muted click. Her head spun, her heart drumming wildly against her chest. What had she done? Who did she think she was? But then again, there was that thought that could not leave her mind, that above all of her sudden shock and nerves kept repeating itself over and over again inside her mind: She had reached the wound. She could still feel it, the memory of that agonizing pain as it ripped through her at the contact all too vivid for her to ignore it. The pain had not been hers. No. It had been her fathers.

It had all been so strange. The feeling of her father's torn spirit latching desperately to hers, seeking stability, a source to escape its misery and agony, remained fresh in her memory. And she had responded. She did not know how she had done it, or even why. It had all felt so strange, so new, and yet so natural. She could still feel how her instincts had screamed at her to pull at her father's energy, to let it all flow through her, to absorb every single power that his weakened soul could give. She had never in her life felt more frightened. And still, she had held back. She did not know how she had done it, but she had held back, she had allowed for her father's tormented spirit to pull her instead, to latch onto her and feed on her energy. She remembered the power of the trees protesting, their songs and chants as a protective barrier against her, still trying desperately to repair the connection that had been brutally been ripped apart between them and the King. And then, there had been the wound…

She shuddered involuntarily at the fresh memory of the agonizing rupture travelling trough her body, shaking her head slightly in an effort to force her thoughts into a different direction. The tall walls of the ample hallways stretched imposingly beside her, the cold stone singing in silent echo to the tranquility of the night, a vast expanse of emptiness. For a long second she stood there, the quietude filling her ears, her drumming heart the only sound that governed the place. So she was here again; in the long hallway adorned by the five doors of her and siblings chambers. And yet, for almost the first time since she had first arrived at the palace, she could not get herself to walk through any of them.

Elladan was still asleep in her own chambers. Even though she longed to lie in his arms, to feel the comfort of his presence of his soothing sweet scent and endless silver eyes, she did not want to wake him. She knew he too was exhausted. But then, where else would she go? Knocking on Arahaelon's door was most definitely out of the question now. Only thinking about it made her want to yell at someone, to do anything to take away her frustration. She had been so close to knowing at least part of what had happened, so close to breaking through his perfectly composed shell, and yet she had not had the patience to just wait and listen to him talk, she had to push it, to ask directly. It made her want to scream. Why could he not simply tell her what she wanted to know? Why did he have to be so mysterious and quiet and full of secrets? Why was he so distant? And still, she could not get in herself to fight with him, to confront him and demand an answer o her question. He was simply so…calmed and patient, making her feel so incredibly young and naïve next to him, and she knew that yelling at him would only make her feel more like a child, because he would not yell back. It was simply so frustrating. She could not read through him.

And then, there were Tadion and Legolas, her two brothers she so adored. But suddenly, at that moment, she could not get herself to wake any of them either. She did not know why, but suddenly she did not feel like seeking their company. What would she say to them? She knew they would welcome her into their chambers, she knew both of them would be open and they would offer their comfort, their warmth, but it was not comfort what she sought. She did not want to be comforted and received in the protective arms of her brothers as the little sister she knew she was. No. At that moment, feeling little was the only thing she did not want. She was tired of feeling so young, and even though she knew she was many years younger than the rest of her siblings, at that moment all she wanted was answers, to be told things that they probably all knew, to no longer be sheltered from reality like an elfling. And that is how she felt like: an elfling.

Slowly, without her even fully knowing why she was doing it, she let her hand knock lightly on the only door that felt like an option at the moment. It felt strange, neither her head nor her body seeming to want to believe that she was actually knocking here. She did not know why, but her sister's chambers had always been a place that had seemed out of limits to her, the bedchambers of a stunning elven Princess that she could barely even believe shared the same blood with her. And yet, at that moment, that door felt like the only one she wanted to knock on.

"Lossie?" Her voice came out in a faint whisper, as if scared to actually be heard, not sure if she wanted to be answered or ignored.

"Come in" the Princess' melodic answer echoed on the other side of the door, the sound always so delicate, so enchanting, like the dreamy twinkle of crystal snowflakes dancing to the wind.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, she pushed the door open, feeling the intricate patterns carved on the exquisite wood brushing her fingers. She opened door only side enough for her to slip inside in silence, listening as it feel closed once more behind her, leaving her standing there, barely a step into the room. Why was she even here?

The large bedchamber was dark, not the fire of a single candle washing the room with its flickering red flames. And yet, even in the peaceful darkness, it carried an allure impossible to overlook, as if the room itself wished to be as enchanting and captivating as the Princess herself. Her sister's bedchambers were not that different from hers, she noticed. The furniture was the same, the long rich curtains in the same shade of pearly ivory, embroidered in golden and silver patterns. And yet, there was one remarkable difference that made both bedchambers seem incredibly different from one another: This one had been lived in. Even in the coldness of the night, the room was filled with a welcoming warmth her own room lack, a collection of things and memories scattered all over the place.

The pale silvery moonlight washed the ample space, the pearly rays entering form the open balcony, caressing the polished marble tiles of the floor with their dancing light. The entire room was in perfect order, every single item incredibly fine and exquisite. Her eyes quickly travelled over a delicate dresser, its surface filled with more silver boxes and sparkling jewels than she had probably seen in her entire lifetime, most of them sapphires and aquamarines.

She turned her attention towards the large bed, where a stunning Lossenel sat quietly against the feathered pillows, her long platinum hair looking almost white under the pale moonlight, free of all of its braids and jewels. The Princess' ice colored eyes looked patiently at her, as mesmerizing and filled with light as the thousand of aquamarines sparkling silently on the dresser. Her porcelain skin was so pale and flawless, the delicate thin silk of her nightgown falling weightlessly over her body until it disappeared underneath the ivory feathered bedcovers. Lossenel did not appear to have been asleep. On the contrary, she looked very much awake.

Suddenly, a new wave of nerves and insecurity washed over her body, awakening her from her seemingly frozen stance. Why had she come here? She did not even know what to say?

"I…" She stuttered, trying to find an excuse to her visit inside her head. "I am sorry, I…"

To her slight surprise, a gentle smile grew on her sister's lips, one porcelain hand opening the silken bed covers over the mattress next to her in silent invitation. She did not need to think it twice, that silent gesture the only thing she had needed to approach, slowly climbing onto the overly soft bed next to the Princess' delicate body. Lossenel laid down next to her, gently rolling onto her side to face her, strands of platinum her splattered over the feathered pillows like a silver halo as her pale hands arranged the covers over both of them. It felt strange to be there, lying on her sisters bed, feeling her presence so close to hers, and at the same time it felt so calming, so comforting to simply lay there underneath the warm silken covers, also on her side facing Lossenel. And then it occurred to her that she had never done this, she had never shared a bed with anyone, except for Elladan and occasionally her adoptive mother when she was a child.

"Are you all right?" Her sister's voice was barely louder than a whisper and she felt one of Lossenel's hands gently falling over her arm underneath the silk sheets. She was about to nod her head out of habit, but something inside of her stopped her, some kind of feeling of security that suddenly made her feel safe admitting her flaws, admitting her worries.

"I do not know." Was all she said. And it was the truth. How did she do it? How did this stunningly beautiful Princess make her feel so safe and inclined to confide in her? How did she manage to make her want to discuss her every feeling, her every fear, her every insecurity with her?

Lossenel's iced aquamarine eyes remained gently fixed on her, as open as the caress as the caress of a warm frozen sea, and suddenly, at that moment, as she observed her sister's delicate face features with close attention for the first time, she noticed how much they resembled her own. The color of her eyes and hair were completely, and yet, for the first time, she realized they looked oddly alike. They shared the same cheekbones, the same thin nose, lips and chin.

"Do you want to talk?" The Princess' soft voice echoed through the tranquil air. Another invitation. And still she could not pass it unnoticed how her sister's question was allowing her a way out, allowing her an option. She had not asked what was wrong, or what was troubling her, no.

"Not really." She answered. Once again, she did not know why she answered that. She did want to talk, but she did not know about what. She wanted to say so many things, to ask so many things, and yet she did not know where to start. She wanted to tell her about how she had just reached her father's wound, about how she had been so careless as to wake him once again to his pain. She wanted to ask about the things that Arahaelon had not told her, and still she did not know where to start. What if Lossenel refused to answer? What if her reaction was the same as the Crown Prince's?

Another soft smile adorned her sister's face, followed by a slight nod of her head. And then, after carefully accommodating the sheets and covers so that they covered both of them to their chins, Lossenel turned around on the bed, rolling to lie on her other side, her back to her.

"No, do not turn away!" She suddenly breathed out, her hand flying to grasp at the Princess' porcelain arm, not fully knowing from where her sudden reaction had come from.

To her surprise, a slight chorus of silver bell chuckles left Lossenel's lips, her sister returning to face her, burying one hand underneath the feathered pillow.

"But I am more comfortable the other way." Her sister protested, her voice as soft and enchanting as ever, as calmed and lulling as the dancing moonlight. "I never usually lie on this side."

She did not know why, but that made her smile. "Then I will change sides" She added, and then before Lossenel could say anything else, she was already rounding the large bed, only to climb once again under the comfortable cover at her sister's other side, so that they were once again facing each other.

A peaceful silence settled between the two, and she let her eyes once again wonder about the room, aware of Lossenel's patient eyes watching her, waiting for her to either sleep or talk, whichever she chose. She let her gaze travel over tall bookshelves filled with books of every size and color, over a round table placed on a corner of the room, identical to that one in her own room, over a large vanity with a long mirror, and then something different caught her attention. Placed there, in a far corner of the room, almost unnoticed and forgotten, was the most exquisite dollhouse her eyes had ever seen. Elven pointed arches carved in the finest of craft came together to form ample corridors and rooms in rich wood, gorgeous balconies stood out in several places, almost as perfectly manufactured as the real ones that adorned the palace. The house, or even palace she thought, was large enough to reach a grown elf's thighs, and suddenly every single toy she had ever owned as a child seemed pitiful.

"Was that your dollhouse?" She asked, suddenly unable to hold her question.

"Yes." Came Lossenel's answer, and if she was surprised or estranged by her question, she did not showing, simply answering without hesitation. "Did you enjoy playing with dolls, Rëa?"

"Yes." She said in return. "Although my dollhouses were made out of my mother's silverware, and I was constantly ordered to undo them once she saw me."

A chorus of bell-like laughter escaped Lossenel's lips, much to her surprise, ice green-blue eyes, so filled with light, watching her as if she suddenly was the most interesting thing she had seen in a long time.

"How did you build dollhouses out of silverware?" Her sister's fair eyebrows were furrowed over her crystal eyes, the gentle smile ever present on her face, and then it downed to her that the snowy Princess had never had to make the most of whatever she had at had, she had always had everything she wanted at her disposal.

"Well" She started, suddenly feeling more confident, that strange feeling of security and trust that seemed to float around the Princess once again inviting her to share everything, even if her words would seem pitiful next to what she knew the Princess had grown up to. "I most certainly did not have a dollhouse like that one, so I had to be creative and make one with what I could find."

And yet, to her surprise, Lossenel's expression was not one of pity, or one of sadness. Instead, it was one of fascination, as if she could not imagine what it would be like to have to invent her own dollhouse.

"That one was to be yours once you were old enough to not chew on it." The Princess added in the same gentle tone. "I sat here in front of it for hours with you, watching you curiously touch it, grabbing at it to pull yourself up onto your feet to fall back down seconds after."

Lossenel's words filled her with warmth, once again making her whish she could remember anything from that time, that the stories she heard were more than just stories, that they were memories. But they would never be memories to her. She could not remember a single one. And yet, oddly enough, listening to those stories somehow made them feel more real.

"Almarëa?" Lossenel's soft voice pulled her out of her wondering thoughts, focusing her attention once more on her older sister lying in front of her. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes." She answered, even though part of her dreaded what the question could be.

"Did you ever scrape your knees?"

The question caught her by surprise, and she was sure she was unable to hide her surprise from showing on her face, even though she tried.

"Yes. I even more than once scraped both my knees and palms on the same fall." She answered, watching her sis as if she did not understand her question. How was that a question? Every child scraped their knees at least once, why was her sister asking her this? And yet, most surprising and confusing of all, was the interested and excited look that she received from her sister. And then, it downed on her once more, as heavily as bucked of iced water, as different and fascinating as the unimaginably exquisite dollhouse that her own mind could have never dreamed of when she was a child.

"You have never scraped your knees?" She phrased it as a question, but it was a statement, a statement that was confirmed as her sister's aquamarine eyes suddenly held an expression of horror at the idea her own knees being scraped, and yet, the fascination never left her expression.

"No." She admitted almost immediately, as if it was the obvious answer. "There was always someone watching me or holding my hand, ready to catch me if I tripped. Was nobody watching you?"

Once again, she could not hide her surprise from showing on her face.

"No." Was all she was able to answer fro some time, still unable to believe what she was hearing. "I mean, yes, there was occasionally someone watching us, but on the village where I grew up we were over fifteen children, so it was slightly hard to keep track of where we were."

"Fifteen!" Lossenel's ice colored eyes widened in amusement and surprise, the Princess rising to support her weight on her elbow. "How do you play with fifteen children at the same time? What do you play?"

This time, a light laughter escaped her lips at the Princess' clearly confused, perplexed and at the same time fascinated expression. It seemed that Lossenel was having as hard a time as her trying to understand what the other was saying.

"Regular games." She said between chuckles. This conversation could not seem any stranger to her. "You know, like hide and go seek."

"Hide and go seek?"

"You never played hide and go seek?"

"Of course I played hide and go seek, Rëa!" The Princess added, and yet her voice remained as surprised and confused as before, large lighted eyes studying her carefully. "But how do you play hide and go seek with fifteen children? The game would never end!"

"What do you mean?" It was now her time to look confused. "Did you not play that with a bunch of other elflings?"

"There was no bunch of other elflings." Once again, Lossenel's answer came as if it was the obvious one, and it took her a while to remember that elflings were rare, substantially fewer in number than human children were.

"Then who did you play with?" The question left her lips before she could order her mouth to stop, and for a second she feared she might have been rude. But Lossenel's face did not seem to have reacted to her question in the slightest, merely answering as if she had asked about the weather.

"Ar."

"Were you elflings together?" She did not know from where her question came from this time, but suddenly she wanted to know as much about her sister's seemingly unimaginable childhood as the snowy Princess wanted to know about hers. It surprised her to realize that she had never thought about it before, she had never even though about the lifestyles her siblings had lived, about how different they could have been from hers. Valar, she did not even know how old her siblings were!

To her slight surprise, another gorgeous smile played on the Princess' flawless face, and for a second she was sure Lossenel had read all of her questions in her eyes.

"Yes." The Princess answered, the pale silvery moonlight kissing her long platinum hair in the silence of the night, giving her the appearance of a heavenly marble statue, a figure whose beauty could not possibly be real. "He is not that much older than me. The age difference between us is surprisingly small, a thing that is most uncommon among elves. Arahaelon is only ten years older than me."

Suddenly, so many things seemed clearer to her now, things that she had never even pondered on, things that she had simply taken for granted without really understanding them. So that was why Lossenel seemed to be the only one of her siblings who apparently had no trouble in openly contradicting the Crown Prince, that was they reason why they seemed to share a special bond different than the ones they shared with the rest of the siblings. They had grown up together. And at the same time, there were now so many more questions she wanted to be answered. So then, did Lossenel know what had happened the night of the attack on the Palace when she was a baby? Did she knew that which Arahaelon did not want to share with her? the Princess must certainly know something. She remembered Lossenel's strong reaction at Legolas' suggestion that she ask Arahaelon. The Princess had not wanted her to ask. There were so many things she wanted to ask, and yet she did not want to blow her chance for a second time.

Lossenel's quiet vast eyes remained silently gazing at her, her expression entirely serene, so patient, so relaxed, and yet, just for a second, in the seemingly unreachable depths of her crystal aquamarine eyes danced a glint understanding, a flicker that told her that the Princess knew exactly what she wanted to ask, exactly what was bothering her in the first place.

"I know you asked Arahaelon."

The soft words caught her by surprise, and for a moment she did not know what to say. Suddenly, a wave of guilt washed over her, but guilt about what? About asking a question? And yet, oddly enough, her sister's voice did not carry the slightest hint of accusation in it, the full power of her confident eyes, so open and enchanting, so delicate and filled with light focused on her, once again making her want to tell her everything, to admit everything to her.

"I…" She stuttered, her voice failing her almost entirely. "…yes."

Lossenel nodded her head silently, her face as calmed and welcoming as before , and for a moment, she waited for the Princess to say something, to finish her incomplete accusation, to yell at her for doing precisely what she had been so against her doing. And yet, nothing more came. There was no accusation, no yell, not even a disappointed or displeased look on her face. Lossenel did not push her, did not ask for any kind of detail, did not even say the 'I told you so' that she had been silently expecting.

"How…how do you know?" Her voice was barely louder than a whisper, her words floating in the air in a hollow dance.

"He told me." Once again the Princess voice was a soft as her winter's shimmer eyes, and once again there was no accusation, no further question or comment. So the Crown Prince had already spoken with his sister. What exactly had he told her?

"Is he…angry with me?" The question left her mouth before she could even know it, the need to know that answer suddenly feeling overwhelming. To her surprise, Lossenel's eyes softened even more, and when she answered, she was sure she was telling the complete truth.

"No."

A sudden rage burned through her veins at the honest answer, a wish to scream and yell at her own frustration suddenly invading her. She did know why, but suddenly, the knowledge that the Crown Prince was not angry with her for asking seemed more enraging than if he had been angry. Then why had he not answered her question! Why did he not want to share what he knew with her!

"Then why will he not answer me!" She breathed out in frustration, her patience finally reaching its limit. She did not want any more gentle talk with her sister. She wanted answers, and to her further despair Lossenel knew this very well.

"You cannot expect Ar to just answer a question like that one without him expecting it coming." The Princess' tone was as soft and gentle as ever, and for the first time, she focused her attention on listening, listening intently. At least, Lossenel was answering her questions, no matter how vague her answers could be.

"But why?" She pushed. If Lossenel wanted to keep answering her questions then she might as well continue to ask them. The worst thing that could happen now was that the Princess react in the same as her eldest brother, but by the looks of it, that did not seem about to happen. "Why will he not answer? How am I supposed to ask him so that he answers! Tadion would have answered without hesitation!"

"And Arahaelon is not Tadion." Came Lossenel's ever calmed reply, and once again she focused on listening. "They are different in many more ways than you could possibly imagine, Rëa. Tadion is an open book. He is impulsive and carefree and inviting, and he has not trouble in sharing what he thinks and feels at any given moment, and he is gentle and welcoming and has no fear of speaking for himself or others, and that is a great strength of him. He is an open book. But Ar, Ar is a completely different personality. You might think he does not talk as much as Tadion, but he listens, Rëa, he listens and he observes. He thinks very quickly, quicker than you can possibly imagine he does, he absorbs every single bit of information around him, things that neither you nor I would normally even notice, he notices them, and he memorizes them, his memory is impressive, he does not miss one single detail. So when he does share his thoughts, you know that he is absolutely sure of what he is saying. He will not answer your questions, Rëa, until he is absolutely sure of your intentions, until he can read the way you will react to his answers. If you want answers, then you need to gain his trust, and by that I do not mean being nice to him or having light and playful conversations as bother and sister. He knows you are his little sister, and he loves you as that, but he needs to know you. Gain his full trust and he will answer you. That is something that one else can do for you, you have to do it yourself."

She did not what to say, what to think. Why was Lossenel suddenly telling her this? Everything seemed so much clearer now and at the same time so much more confusing. What the Princess was saying made complete sense, but how was she to gain the Crown Prince's trust. Arahaelon was no fool. He knew exactly what it was she wanted to know. And yet, what drove her into madness was the question of what could have possibly happened that night for Arahaelon to be so against sharing it. And then, another thought suddenly downed on her: Lossenel knew. She had to know.

"You know." She breathed out, her large green eyes bearing steadily on her sister's green-blue ones, and then, for a long second, silence consumed the room, as loud as the cries of a desperate song in the tranquil atmosphere.

"I know." Came the answer, Lossenel's voice as low and delicate as the silver moonlight. "But I do not know everything, Rëa. I know parts only, and my version of the story will not be of help to you. If you want to know what I do remember, you will find that it is nothing more than cries and loud noises, locked in the safety of the underground passages, away from everything that was happening in the Palace above. What you want to know is not my story to tell. It is a very private memory that does not belong to me. As to what was that attack about, I never fully knew….and I never asked…I just wanted to forget it, forget it ever happened…"

Lossenel's crystal voice trailed off in the melody of the night, flying away to the gentle hum of the sleeping forest, and for a second she was tempted to let the subject go, to just stop asking questions that would not be answered, but she could not.

"It involves me, you know?" Her voice was soft, breaking the lulling silence that had settled quietly in the ample dark room. And yet, something about her sister's calmness and patience, something about the aura of trust that she seemed to carry around her, something about the was she had remained so helpful and sharing, answering everything the best she could, impeded her words to come out demanding or protesting. "It involves me, and I know nothing about it. I want to know why I was not able to stay here with all of you. I want to know why I had to grow up away, not even knowing my own name. I want to know why I scraped my knees and ran around instead of playing with dollhouses like yours. I want to know the reason why I had to be taken away only to end in the middle of a bloodbath after the accidental encounter with the Orcs."

Her voice was soft, and et her words were not covered with sweet gentleness, they were crude, straight to the point, and for a second she feared that she had gone to far this time. Lossenel's vast iced eyes turned in her direction, watching her with an expression she could not entirely read, pained and confused, as if there in those swirling depths of winter colors was a thought that she seemed to be hesitating upon sharing, a through that seemed to be causing the stunning Princess more pain than she was letting visible.

"Almarëa…" Lossenel's voice was lower than ever, the perfectly calmed and melodic sound suddenly carrying a strange edge of despair, of a pain deeper than one she could imagine, and when she continued speaking her voice came close to breaking, as if her words carried a weight that had been upon her for so many years, troubling her mind even in her sleep, a thing that she even seemed scared or sharing, scared of even saying out loud. "…there was no accidental encounter with the Orcs. It was all planned. It was a mass murder…Naneth death was planned in it….your death was planned in it…"

And then, before she could even process the words, before her heart could even start to constrict at the new weight that had been placed upon it, the Princess' hand curled over her arm, a new set of images flying before her eyes, sharing with her a memory that once finished, she was not sure if she could have preferred to remained in the ignorant darkness.

The long seemingly endless hallway stretched vastly in a collection of high and majestic stone pointed arches. A figure, lone and quiet, stood by an ample opening that led to a grand room on the other side. There was no door, only a majestic tall archway, the stone and wood that composed it carved in in shape of spiraling branches, growing and intertwining in an upward direction, some ending in sharp points at the ends, at times resembling more to be antlers than branches. The figure remained still, barely visible behind the menacing and fascinating carvings, long platinum hair cascading freely down a delicate back, the hundreds of aquamarines tied in the intricate braids sparkling silently in thousands of colors.

"YOU KILLED HER!" The loud voice roared with a power that would have made her cringe if she had been present, the burning ire and flaring rage in the sound able to drive even the strongest of warriors into shakes and tears. And yet, it was something else in the voice that nearly made her blood freeze, that made her want to pull out from the memory at that exact instant. There was a searing pain and agony in the sound impossible to deny, an accusation sharper and harsher than the most poisonous of daggers.

Inside the room, on the other side of the imposing archway, was the most fascinating and majestic Throne Room that her eyes had ever seen. And yet, the scene unfolding inside of it, in front of the silently watchful eyes of the snowy Princess, was anything but majestic. Two strong guards seemed to be holding an elf by either arm, the hands of the convicted tied tightly behind his back as he was pushed to kneel on the floor, light brown hair covering his face from view. Some space in front of them, standing at the top of the steps and before a majestic Throne stood the Elvenking, looking more powerful and strong than ever, a tall figure of pure cold royalty. Her father's long blond hair fell freely down his back, with the same elegance and grandeur of the crown that rested atop his head. She had never seen anyone look so powerful, she had never seen anyone look more authoritative, and more so, she had never seen anyone more enraged in her entire lifetime.

The King's iced eyes burned with seething blue fire, the consuming ire in them mercilessly piercing the elf his guards seemed to holding down, the hatred and anger seeming to be about to drive the usually composed and calmed King into madness. And yet, it was the agonizing combination of anger and pain that overflowed the King's eyes what looked so terrifying about him at the moment, so devastating. With a close observation, she noticed that the Elvenking's ever steady, ever secure hands were trembling to his sides, his lips pressed in a thin line as his jaw clenched tightly.

"YOU KILLED HER!" The King's voice roared again, and for a second she though her father would jump over the convicted elf and slice his throat open right there and then. "YOU KILLED HER! HOW COULD YOU! HOW COULD YOU!"

The yells kept coming one after the other, as the mighty Elvenking could not find another way to let out his anger, to let out the pain that seemed to be so obviously consuming his body. The elf in question suddenly seemed more scared than before, brusquely attempting to rise to his feet and break free from the hands holding him in place, but the guards were stronger than him, easily keeping him in place.

"YOU KILLED MY WIFE!" The King continued to yell at the full power of his lungs. "YOU KILLED MY DAUGHTER!"

Her father seemed to be having a hard time catching his breath, the pain in his eyes only doubling with every yell, the agony in the sound of his voice only making her want to run away, to not watch the end of the memory, but she needed to see, she needed to know. Two more guards stood silently to the King's sides, as well two other figures: Arahaelon and Doronor. It was hard to tell which one looked more disturbed with the scene unfolding before their eyes, or which one looked more enraged and disgusted. And yet, both of them remained quiet, not daring to even say a word or make a single sound to remind the irate King of their presence.

'WHO ELSE HELPED YOU?!" The King demanded harshly. "WHO KNEW ABOUT ALL OF THIS!"

The elf's head lifted to look directly at the King, and for a second she was granted a full view of his face. Her heart nearly stopped, the large and scared, almost wild and mad, blue eyes ones she would never be able to forget in her entire life. It was Amrudir, Doronor's only son, the elf who had shot Tadion on their escape from the palace some time ago.

"ANSWER ME!" The King yelled again, his patience lost a long time ago, but the convicted elf remained quiet.

"I am going to kill you." The Elvenking's voice trembled with the power of his rage, the sound the coldest and harshest her ears had ever heard. The King suddenly dashed down the long steps that led to the throne, standing closer to the elf in question, looking upon him with such hatred and rage that it made her wonder how the elf was still breathing "I sentence you to death. You deserve nothing more. I WILL KILL YOU!"

"NO!" Doronor's cry seemed to catch everyone by surprise, the advisor suddenly jumping in front of the Elvenking on his knees, his dark blue eyes looking desperate, begging to his King and friend. "Please, my Lord, let him live. Please! He is my son! He is my only son!"

The agonizing despair in the Advisor's plea made her stomach turn and her blood to grow cold, never before had she seen such an anguished plea, never before had she seen such fear and despair in the Advisor's dark blue eyes, begging for mercy underneath her father's seething and sharp ice blue ones. The King's hands continued to shake with rage, nothing about his friend's plea seeming to be changing his mind on his decision.

"AND THEY WERE MY WIFE AND DAUGHTER!" The King yelled in return, the pain in his voice more and more consuming with each word he pronounced, and out of the corner of her eyes she could see that many of the guards wished to flee from the room. "WHY SHOULD I NOT COMMAND HIS DEATH?!"

Doronor could not seem to find a match for the King's words, his head simply hanging low as he remained on his knees, his pride no longer seeming to matter to him as he grabbed at the King's robes in despair, his voice coming out in a trembling mess. "Please! My Lord, please! Do anything you want, just let him live! Do not take his life! He is my son!"

The King did not yell in return for a long moment, but his boiling anger did not dissipate in the slightest. She could see his burning rage, his seething pain that seemed to be consuming him from the inside, and at the same time the new pain at his friends' desperate plea, and he did not seem to be able to make a choice anymore, his need to end Amrudir's life seeming to be too overwhelming, and at the same time, the plea of the father could make any heart shatter to pieces. "Give one reason why I should not command his death! Give one reason why deserves to live! He killed my wife and daughter, Doronor! HE KILLED ALARYA! HE KILLED ALMAREA! GIVE ME ONE REASON WHY DESERVES TO LIVE!"

"I have none." Came Doronor's reply, his voice entirely broken now, overflowing with despair as his trembling pale hands continued to cling to his King and friend's rich robes. "But he is my son! Do not take my son's life! He does not deserve your forgiveness, but do not make me watch him die. He is my son."

Her father was breathing heavily, as if trying to control his unbearable rage, his hands, curled into fists to his sides, trembling violently with every breath he took, seething blue eyes piercing mercilessly at Amrudir, the hatred in them one that made her want to cringe in fear. And then, most unexpectedly, the King changed his orders, his voice steady and cold, leaving no space for the slightest of arguments or hesitations.

"Lock him in the dungeons until I decide for a fair punishment. I do not care what you do with him in the meantime."

The guards bowed in complete silence, quickly dragging the still maddeningly frightened Amrudir with them. Doronor's head dropped lower in overwhelming and unbelievable relief, his hands, still gripping at the Elvenking's robes, still shaking violently.

"Thank you." The Advisor breathed out, his voice a sound that could barely be called a voice, the fear, despair and then sudden relief seeming too overwhelming for the elf to produce a steady sound, his hands letting go of the King's robes as the latter turned his back to him. "Thank you, my Lord."

"Get out." The King spat in a flat, angered voice, his eyes falling closed over his overly pained eyes, his hands trembling even more violently as his growing rage transformed into pain and grief, and the Advisor did not think it twice, quickly exiting the room, where he knew his presence was most certainly not wanted. She could see the visible pain in the Kings expression, the visible rage and despair with himself, his own ire at his decision to let Amrudir live.

Arahaelon had remained perfectly still the entire time, his silent emerald eyes looking perplexed, holding a combination of horror pain and rage that it was hard to place. Then slowly, the King started to climb the steps back to his throne, but he never made it to the top. Barely a couple of steps into his walk, his knees gave out, and he sat there on the stone steps, his face an expression of pure heart wrenching agony, head hung low as one of his hands gripped tightly at the robes in his chest as if desperately trying to alleviate some kind of pain deep within. The sight was heartbreaking, a sight she wanted forget, but she had already seen it, and she could not look away, forced to watch whatever the memory showed her.

"My Lord! Your Majesty!" The guards by the throne reacted in a flash, one of them catching his King by the arm as the latter sunk to sit on the stone steps, two more rushing to aid in any way the possibly could. The sudden despair and urgency in the room was tangible.

"Get a healer!" One of the guards instructed another, but the King lifted his head, his piercing ice blue eyes penetrating the guard's own ones.

"No." Her father said firmly, and even through his evident pain, through his heavy and devastating grief, there was not a single hint of hesitation in his command. "I want no more healers. I want no more sedatives and unfeeling numbness."

And with that, the King slowly rose back to his feet, stalking out of the room in complete silence, not even bothering to acknowledge the guards that bowed as he passed, the images in from of her eyes slowly fading into a blank darkness, the last thing she saw was Arahaelon's impenetrable emerald eyes turning in her direction , where they spotted her sister quietly watching the scene, her presence unnoticed by everyone else…

So here is chapter 34! Please let me know what you think and so so so sorry for the long wait! I hope this chapter can make up for it!

Also, witch cat arg: HAPPY BRITHDAY (delayed) THIS CHAPTER IS FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY I HOPE IT WAS A GREAT ONE! I tried to update on Thursday but I was away on vacation for the week and had no internet access until today, so I hope its not too late and I hope this little delayed birthday present puts a smile to your face!

And to my guest reviewer: I'm not abandoning this story, ever! EVER! I haven't been able to update as fast as I usually do for this past months but I'm not abandoning this story! I hope you enjoy this slightly longer chapter! :P

And again, thank you so so so much to those of you who reviewed my latest chapter, and thank you most for your patience, I know it was a very very long wait and my apologies for it, things have been really complicated with workload lately but your comments always make me want to find a little bit of time to simply sit down and keep writing this story as best as I can! : The Lead Mare, the witch cat warg, the-fox-love, Paperlanterns86, Tintcalad, booklover1698, wonderpanda10, Jibril-Kadamon, Martine9295, AmazingWriter123, Elves are awesome, Lady Syndra, Mary Elrondile, Wtiger5 and my guest reviewer!

Love,

Elena