* Thanks to those who favorited, liked, followed, kudos and especially to the reviewers. You guys are my precious.
** Big thanks to Frannel for working through all my rough and rawness. I can't help myself!
*** Part two was never going to be long posted after part one. I just wanted to get the first half out once it was done and let people know I'm still alive.
**** WARNING! Descriptions of violence and suggestion of rape. Reminder, this story is aimed at mature readers! I would warn about some cheesy romance too . . . but this IS a romance serial.
***** Summer Song – song by Michael McGlynn
****** There is another sky - poem by Emily Dickinson.
'Stop confusing real life with a romantic novel!'- Gloria, Jewel of the Nile
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
Aglarebon – Woodland Stallion, Sindar's horse
Aragorn/Strider – Male, Chieftain of the Dúnedain
Baradon/Sculls – Male, Elite Ranger Scout
Bregol/Web - Male, Ranger
Camaenor/Vice - Male, Master of Arms
Cordoves/Swan – Female, Elite Ranger Scout
Eryndes – Female, Mistress of Carthal & Apothecary
Faron/Dusk – Male, Hunting Master & Elite Ranger Scout
Foruyndes – Female, Mistress of Stores
Gueniel – Female, Midwife
Laeron/Wren – Male, Elite Ranger Scout
Lobordir/Joust – Male, Master of Stables & Elite Ranger Scout
Mydedis – Female, Mistress of Housekeeping
Mereniel/Ivy – Female, Elite Ranger Scout (Pregnant)
Sali – Female, Mistress of Kitchen
Sindar/Master Elf /Legolas – Sinda Male, undisclosed Prince of the Woodland Realm on unofficial secondment
Trîw/Jester – Male, Elite Ranger Scout
Úrion/Bear – Male, Second in Command
"Not like that!"
Eryndes took a look moment tearing her eyes away from the towering figure coming out the kitchen. He wasn't at breakfast either. Now he made his way through the morning bustle in the great hall; people finishing their plates, readying themselves for the day, heading out to their particular duties. Finally she drew her attention to the young girl sitting in a snit on her lap, "How then am I to do it? You said you wanted a braid."
"Not like that!" Coru, Cordoves' daughter and Joust's niece, pushed away her hands and pulled out the braid from her hair. "I want it the 'other' way!"
Taking a deep breath, Eryndes pulled the girl more convincingly upon her lap, "Then tell me how you want it." Her eyes dived back across the great hall. Now he was speaking with Baradon and Laeron, all three of them talking animatedly. Sindar hadn't been in the hall for breakfast. Hopefully his coming out of the kitchen meant Foruyndes prepared something for him? He shouldn't have to go hungry if his duty had him out and about early.
The three of them were joined by Sirdhem, Faron, Camaenor-
"Eryndes!"
She tugged her concentration back to Coru. "Yes? Oh, yes. How did you want it?"
"I want it like Sindar's!"
Eryndes sat back with grimace, "Well, girl, you cannot."
"But I want."
"I said you cannot-"
"Why?"
She sighed, pulling her back to sit properly, "Because I said so. Now sit still."
The girl however was just as stubborn as her mother and wiggled against her hold, "But I want it!"
"Sit still."
"But I want it!"
"I said: Sit still."
"But I want it like Sindar's!" she wailed, real tears now tumbling down her face.
"I do not know how! Now, sit still or you will go without."
"But I want!," her sobs grew louder and louder, but at least she was still. Eryndes combed her hair back once more to begin again-
"Shall I teach you?"
Her heart swelled. "Good morning," she faced him, unable to stop herself from smiling broadly.
Sindar stood beside them at the end of the table, just as neat and kept as was his way. She's often wondered what he'd do were she to tussle and mess up his hair a little. No fellow should be so neat. Especially when most women struggled to achieve half such elegance.
"Good morning." He answered before peering down at Coru. "Good morning, Coru. You are crying. What was our bargain?"
Sniffing, Coru wiped her eyes, "I don't cry and you don't tell mama it was me who put salt in her tea."
Eryndes smothered her laugh with her hand.
Sindar's stern expression didn't change. "And why should you not cry without legitimate reason?"
Coru sat up straighter and sucked in air to stop herself from crying, "It bothers your ears. I'm sorry Sindar. I won't cry."
"Very well." His gaze shifted to Eryndes, the twitch in his lip giving him away. Sindar was excessively pleased with his progress with Carthal's children.
He was learning to be sure, but of course she was yet to explain he'd only scratched the surface with children. No, she'd leave that revelation for a future date.
"Teach her?" she asked him dubiously, "She is far too young to do it herself."
Sindar moved in closer, "I did not mean the child." He gestured to the seat beside her in question and then sat upon her nod. Eryndes had to bite at her lips to hide her growing excitement. Sindar's beautiful braids were as synonymous to him as his weapons and fine clothes.
And now she was going to learn.
Taking a handful of the girl's hair, Sindar's long fingers segmented it equally as easily as if it was his own hair, "It is very simple."
Taking a clump of the girl's hair as well, she tried her best to follow, "Not too fast."
"Why are you seeing to Cordoves' daughters?"
"Cordoves and her mother left with the group collecting the remaining late season harvest from the farms to the west. She will be back in time for her duty this afternoon. Joust, well he got the girls awake and out of bed but-"
"He pulls and makes it messy," Coru sulked.
Eryndes shook her head with a laugh, "-then rushed out the door mewling about being urgently needed."
The girl breathed in deep and exhaled even more noisily in a wordless back-chat.
"I heard you have been included in Baradon's advocate-party for the wedding?" Eryndes asked the question burning to be asked since she'd heard the rumour.
"Watch what you are doing," he reproached. Looking back at her work to find she had faulted the order of the braid. "I am informed my duties will consist of attending the eve gathering and ensuring Baradon stands, awake and able enough in body to speak his worth during the ceremony."
"Members of the advocacy-party are usually reserved for kin and close friends," she explained lightly, "Baradon must think very highly of you."
Glancing at him when he didn't answer, she found his expression stoic and completely unreadable, his gaze focused intently on her braiding. It was not unlike him though; he did this whenever she stumbled upon a topic she guessed he didn't wish to discuss or had no answer for. "I thought you might have had little time to spare?" she ventured with care, "With you and Úrion waging war in the far east?"
Finally, she got a reaction. His eyes moved to hers, and took away her breath with the rare vulnerability she saw there. "I am . . . greatly honoured by Baradon's request." He blinked and raised his chin, the vulnerability disappearing. "As for the war, our enemy has sunk into the shadows again. We must take the time to seek them out." He sighed, "And as I have been recently reminded, in times of war or not, life goes on."
"And folk still find time to fall in love," Eryndes pointed out.
"Indeed," he agreed, the smile returning to his eyes and melting her in her seat, "That would appear to be so." He looked pointedly down at her hands, "I think you have mastered the braid."
Following his gaze, she saw her braid almost perfectly mimicking the elf's. "It was not hard after all."
"Often things are not as bad as they seem." He waited for her to tie off the braid, "Coru? Will you please leave us?"
Frowning, Eryndes patted Coru on the thigh, "Go find you sisters, then off to your classes."
Coru slid down from her lap and looked at her and Sindar with trepidation. From the corner of her eye she saw Sindar gave the child a nod of assurance then knocked his head to the side, "Go on. Do as you are asked."
Coru didn't move immediately. "You'll come later?"
Eryndes' heart skipped. The children adored the elf. Not a day passed without them pressing him to come to their story time in the late afternoon.
"If I am able," he made no promise yet Coru grinned like he did and took off in what Eryndes hoped was in search of her sisters.
"Is something the matter?" Eryndes shifted in her seat to face him better.
"It is time I paid my due," he said quietly, "to the family of the fallen warrior I found in Angmar."
Her shoulders relaxed. For a moment there a terrible fear snuck into her mind; of him announcing his leaving Carthal or something just as tragic. "When will you go?"
"An hour before dawn tomorrow morning. I will not return until the day after."
Eryndes waited; he seemed to have more to say given the intensity to his face. "Master Elf?" she enquired when he didn't speak.
"I know not the family," he hesitated, "I am but a stranger to them. I would be . . . pleased if you were to . . . accompany me."
Of all the things he might've said, Eryndes would never have guessed this. "You want me to go with you?"
"I do."
Her first reaction was disbelief. "Should not a ranger be better suited?"
Sindar rose to his feet and stepped away, his attention already looking about the hall. "If you decide you will come, dress warmly. The path leads high into the mountains."
Eryndes frowned at his sudden aloofness. In all honesty, she was twice busy these days since Aragorn forbade her any laborious duties. Most days were spent working with the families in the preparation for winter, not to mention quelling the unrest following Nestdol's removal from Carthal's rule. In addition she was helping tend the sick in the healing rooms, putting the finishing touches on the medicines she'd prepared and also seeing to the smooth running of the manor. In many ways, her days were even more tied up than ever before . . .
Yet, this was Sindar. And if Sindar was asking this of her . . . "If you believe I can help then of course I will come."
0000
"Unpleasant fellow," Gueniel scowled. "You're not going to go with him?"
Eryndes took a bit of cheese, taking her time to chew before swallowing, "I am."
"Spending two days alone with that pretentious elf?" Gueniel scoffed shaking her head, "I can scarcely think of a less tempting activity, well maybe attending to Sali's feet." She shivered in revulsion.
Eryndes shook her head with a chuckle, "You only say that because you do not like him."
"Darn right I don't. You wouldn't either if the first time he'd spoken to you he called you 'midwife'.
"Perhaps he did not know your name?"
Her friend hissed between her teeth, "He might've asked. Imagine being reduced to the mere sum of your trade? What conceit! Typical of his kind. Typical of noble-borns. He's probably never associated with common-folk before and has no idea how to now."
"If that is indeed true," Eryndes grinned sheepishly, gesturing for Gueniel to look across the room, "then I do believe he is learning."
Gueniel frowned but glanced as she'd bade.
Sindar was sitting with a fair sized group around one of the tables towards the other end of the hall. A rough count had their company around the eighteen mark, all talking and eating supper together. Dagnir and Camaenor were in the group, with Sirdhem and many from the elite scout unit, like young Laeron and Baradon. Mereniel and Cordoves sat with them also, completely at ease with the mostly male gathering. Urion sat beside Sindar on one side and Joust to the other.
Though the words spoken were too far away to hear, she watched him speak and converse with those around him. He must have said something humorous because the group erupted into laughter.
"Eryndes," Gueniel's mutter broke through her study. "Elven lords don't court mortals."
Eyes widening, Eryndes whirled back to her friend, "I beg your pardon?"
Gueniel held her glare without speaking.
"Do not poison my friendship with Sindar just because you cannot get Amben to even look in your direction!"
Eryndes slapped her hand over her mouth. How could she have said anything so cruel?
Gueniel slowly nodded and rose to her feet, "You're right. But then when are you not, 'mistress'?"
"Gueniel," she tried to apologise, "I am sorry-"
"Good evening."
Eryndes shot to her feet and dashed after her, "Gueniel, please. I'm so sorry!" she followed her friend out the hall, babbling out her most sincerest apologies.
0000
The morning air was particularly icy when Eryndes pulled her great coat tightly around her and stepped through the manor's big doors into the frosty morning. The stone steps were a little slippery and the ground made a crunching sound on her way to the stable. She had no idea if she was already too late, if he had left already, or perhaps she was early?
One hour before dawn wasn't the most precise of times.
Leading Banjo out the stable after saddling him, she looked around for the great grey Sindar rode. She could not see the horse either. Perhaps she really was late and he had indeed gone? Should she try to catch up?
Last night she'd spent half an hour in humbling contrition with Gueniel, Eryndes almost upon her knees for forgiveness. Sometimes her mouth turned inexcusably nasty when provoked.
Gueniel wasn't wrong however; lords didn't court commoners and elven lords surely didn't court mortals. This she'd already known. She held no false hopes. Yet what was so very bad about enjoying Sindar's company? Especially given he was not always going to be around?
In a day, a month or year, eventually he would leave. And she? Hers was but a fleeting gasp upon the wind of his lifetime. Wisdom, and of course Gueniel, would have her wean herself away from him.
But not yet. No, not yet.
And so once she'd made amends with Gueniel, promising her heart was in no danger, she'd scooted off to her bed for an early night. She'd laid out her clothes, packed her satchel, and even gone as far as to take a small nip of tonic to ease her journey into sleep. If Sindar was asking for her help then she thought to be thoroughly rested and attentive. Her plan worked; she'd woken afresh, washed and dressed before even the kettle upon the flame in her room began to boil. After a drink of stout tea and yesterday's bread warmed and lathered with honey, she'd taken her satchel and great coat and tiptoed briskly down stairs.
Yet, after all that she was late and Sindar had indeed already left? Eryndes looked about the main embarkation loop, her spirits continuing to sink.. Torches burned along the road, illuminating the rangers on duty along the towers at the main gate and around the great wall. Some of the rangers begun looking at her curiously.
Bitter disappointment set deep in her belly.
Swiftly Banjo's head turned to the left, his ears pricked and listening intently.
"(Good morning)," Sindar's voice cut through the early morning air.
The pre dawn darkness had played tricks on her eyes. For there he stood next to Aglarebon by the one of the troughs on the other side of the embarkation loop. Aglarebon's head was down, munching away at the chaft.
"I am sorry for being late," Eryndes offered, walking Banjo over to him in great relief.
"You are not late. " He rose lithely onto Aglarebon's back, while Aglarebon made no pause in his breakfast. Sindar played with his quiver-pack strap on his chest then cleared his throat, "However, we do have a long day ahead."
Eryndes noted his quiver was full and a refill of more arrows stowed in his saddle pack. The idea of him expecting trouble was not something to take comfort. Resolute she was safe in the company of an elven elite, she did her best to forget the some two dozen arrows and climbed into her saddle.
Sindar waited for her to take her reins before pulling Aglarebon from his meal and took off at an easy pace. Quickly, Eryndes urged Banjo to catch up.
Twenty minutes later, they had passed along the great north road. The sun was on the rise, the pale light of dawn filled the sky and the green of the grasses and leaves deepened.
The gentle rises and dips in the country beautifully contrasted in the low light, sweeping Eryndes's mind away with their rolling grasses, taking her far away to a world with only her and Sindar, riding in rhythm together.
Eventually a tree line appeared ahead and Sindar slowed his horse. The trees were burnt orange of the late autumn and long died grasses at their base. As they got closer she could see a small road leading off into the forest and to the west.
Aglarebon pulled up to a gentle walk as they turned onto the road into the forest.
"I imagine you would know this forest well?"
Eryndes, stunned by his sudden speech after the long silence, took a moment to remember how to use her voice, "Somewhat but it has been many years. I pray you did not ask me along today as guide?"
"Of course not," he said with a wry smile.
Of course not indeed! What elf would need a guide to navigate a forest? Eryndes considered herself fortunate of the low morning light for Sindar must not fully see the blush of foolishness on her cheeks.
But then, maybe being an elf he could? There was so much about him she didn't know.
"Our path lies far beyond this forest and I would like to get some distance under us." His pause was long but Eryndes didn't know what he was wanting her to say. She didn't even truly know their path through the mountains. "Do you object continuing briskly?" he finally asked.
"I have no objection," she answered quickly. But then his question poked at her pride, "Neither does Banjo. It would take more than Aglarebon's current lethargy to wind us."
She didn't need the sun to fully rise to see; Sindar's smugness would've been visible even in the pitch blackness of night.
"Then let us continue." He leant down, muttering quietly to Aglarebon. The grey snorted indignantly then turned and shot forward.
Banjo was ready however and followed behind him down the narrow path through the forest, the low light dropping even darker.
It didn't take long before Aglarebon's thundering white silhouette grew smaller and smaller. Banjo was quick on his feet but even so, there was no way he could keep up with the blazing hooves of the great elven stallion.
Sindar eased him back eventually. Most likely upon satisfaction his point was made and Eryndes had learnt her lesson.
Eryndes shook her head and gave Banjo a soothing few strokes. If she was stubborn and prideful, Sindar was downright cocky.
Fitting then, too, that the horse should match the rider.
The time passed as they continued to make their steady and brisk way through the forest, the trees thickening as the rode deeper.
Sindar stopped them every so often to look around the landscape or listen to the wind. When Eryndes asked what he meant by 'listening to the wind', he chuckled 'life' then continued on as if his explanation was fulfilled.
Coming up to a small dell, Sindar slowed Aglarebon to a gentle walk. Around them everything was pretty. Sunlight streamed through the canopy overhead, warming the short grass on the floor. A small stream flittered it's way beside them, skimming over rocks filling the air with gentle music.
Sindar pulled Aglarebon to a stop, stroking his fur with affection. He slid down to the ground and gestured for Eryndes to do the same, "Come, we shall rest here awhile."
Eryndes got two feet on the ground before feeling him behind her. She took the apple he held out for her but waved away the hunk of dried meat with a thank you.
Taking a quiet bite, she watched.
Though it really wasn't any of her business, Eryndes always did wonder what precisely the elf did when he would go out riding into the forests.
His stature eased, his broad shoulders lifted. So did his chin. His movements, his gentle footfalls were as a feather upon a breath of warm spring breeze. The silver to his eyes brightened. The line to his lips, often found stern, relinquished their woes and smugness to play in idle contentment.
It was as if the forest was breathing new life in him.
Watching him float along the edge of the creek towards the clearing took away her breath. In haste she dropped her eyes to the fruit in her hands, the warmth under her skin growing into an uncontrollable inferno. "Agreeable spot," she remarked offhandedly.
"This forest has flourished under a peaceful sun," Sindar's deep voice caressed the air and she raised her head to see him reach out to touch an ancient ash, his fingers running idly over the bark, "but it was not always so."
"The north has long been a land of war and struggle." Taking a bite, Eryndes edged in closer but all she saw was a tree. "I tend to believe it is only the woods who thrive."
"Your belief is misguided; even the woods suffer evil." He stepped away from the tree and turned to face her with a glowing smile, "A dark subject for another time, perhaps when the gloom of a grey day calls for it. Not this day. Tell me about this family we are accepting hospitality from this evening."
Swallowing another mouthful of apple, Eryndes did as asked and told him all she knew. There was, however, very little to tell.
0000
Sitting back in his saddle with satisfaction, Legolas knew they had made it to Foruyndes' secret location.
As Aglarebon eased into a walk, the trees opened, giving way, slowly the view cleared, a strong fragrance of flowers and warm grass caressed by a gentle breeze.
By the sharp intake of air beside him, Legolas knew he owed Foruyndes a whole flock of partridge.
"Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?"
A smile crept upon his lips but he wasn't looking at the meadow, "I cannot say I have."
"This is our small diversion then?"
Before he'd answered Eryndes was already sliding down out of her saddle, "It is. I hope you are not disappointed?"
Walking out into the warm sunlight, the skirt of her dress gently moved through the bright green unkempt mountain grass. Letting go of Banjo, she walked further out from the trees as if in wonder. She looked back at him expectantly, "Are you not coming?"
Easing himself down to the ground, he whispered to Aglarebon, "(Don't go far)," and took the bag from the saddle.
Catching up with her, he finally looked about them. Black rocky mountains rose sharply up to the sky, the meadow a wave of gentle slopes, flowing with knee high grasses littered with vibrantly coloured wild flowers. Down towards the bottom a small blue sapphire lake sparkled to the tune of the midday light, and encrusted by smoothed black rock and more wild flowers.
Brightly coloured butterflies fluttered about the warm air, their easy pace interrupted by the buzz of dragonflies.
A few head of deer grazed peacefully and without concern even though the distance from them was not great.
"They are aware we pose no threat," Legolas answered her quizzical look at him.
"Because of you?"
"Indeed."
She eyed him but he wavered away her assumed insult, "The truth, Eryndes. They see me and know I will not hunt them in open grassland. You however do not understand such morality." When her outrage increased, he sighed, "I do not mean you specifically, but your kind. Humans are well known to plunder to exhaustion."
"Perhaps you might tell them I would not hunt them on any field," she bit out.
He snorted staring down at her, "No doubt due to your lack of skill."
Glaring, she turned and walked on.
Legolas smiled and didn't mind her agitation the slightest. Her bright spirit tickled him, especially when he pushed. It didn't last though, for a long draw of breath of the fragrant mountain air and she smiled about her once more.
Another sharp intake of breath and she turned to him, wonder filling her face.
Swooping down she plucked at the long grass and brought some to her mouth. Gnawing on a stalk, she held out one to him.
Legolas stared at the grass stem, suddenly taken back three ages; sweet grass. Not since childhood had he chewed on sweet grass. It was after all a child's fancy.
"Are elves too refined to enjoy something so simple?"
Taking the stem, her dazzling face not affording him any resistance, Legolas put the end into his mouth.
Sweetness well remembered teased his tongue and he gave in and chewed.
Beaming with satisfaction she twirled back to face the gentle slope. "Come," she spoke around the grass in her mouth, "I think I hear a stream nearby. It must lead down to the lake."
There was a stream, quiet and narrow, threading lazily down the slope towards the lake. A few scattered trees lined the most prominent slope and he guided her towards them. Though the sun was not as hot today and they were high within the mountains, he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable.
From the spot the mountains around them opened up to show the plains far below and the dark stone ridged mountains towering up from behind.
"All my life," she was saying, "I have lived near, have ventured into those very woods, yet never knew this was here."
Choosing a spot under the tree where the grass was not so long and without rocks, Legolas set down the bag, "I cannot take credit for the discovery."
"No?"
"Foruyndes directed us here," he explained, walking over and running his hand across the tree's trunk.
"What are you doing?"
He looked up to see her staring at him curiously. "Asking permission."
"Permission?"
"Do you not think it respectful to ask before sitting on another's roots?"
She stared at him, open mouthed. Then her eyes run down from the tree to the ground where she stood. "What was its answer?"
"I may but you must sit someplace else."
Instantly she darted backwards, horror quickly filling her face. "It said that?"
"Of course not!" he laughed from his belly. She was so gullible.
Red faced, Eryndes sat down on the grass in a huff. She set her skirts about her before bringing the bag in front of her. "If you are done having fun?"
The pout of her lips his reward, Legolas wasn't at all tempted to quit his fun so quickly.
"Are you hungry?"
He unbuckled his chest strap and took off his knives and quiver, and sat down beside her while maintaining a respectful distance, "I am."
"Are we safe here?" she nodded at the knives now resting against the trunk of the tree. Her eyes narrowed, "Or is the tree going to protect us?"
"I am safe," he rested down on an elbow, gazing at her openly, "How good are you with knives?"
Stifling a laugh, she took a small kitchen knife from the bag and took off the leather cover, "I guess we shall find out." Taking out wrapped pork, cheese and bread, she sliced with quick efficiency. "If I passed the knife test, would you mind uncorking the wine?"
With a chuckle, he pulled out the skin from the bag and uncorked it. A sniff told him it was not wine, but mead. He filled the two wooden goblets and recorked the skin.
Curiosity and his stomach getting the better of him, he started emptying the rest of Foruyndes' bag. She did mention some added extras? Perhaps something sweet?
There was cold tongue. He dumped that on Eryndes' side with disgust. There was a small pot of mustard. He broke the wax and set it beside the small wooden cutting board. Next there was a wax parcel with what felt like biscuits. He managed only to pull off half the twine before Eryndes took it from him.
"Those are for after the meal."
"Says who?" he counted, reaching again for the biscuits.
She put the parcel behind her and out of his reach, "Civilisation."
He scoffed, "Are you calling me uncivilised?"
She didn't answer, but still smiling she held out a piece of cheese. He ignored the cheese at first. Her gleam in her eyes didn't waver, neither did the cheese.
He gave in and dunked the cheese in the mustard. "I would have preferred the biscuits."
She snickered as she sliced their bread. "You are lucky not to get my tongue."
Choking on the cheese, he quickly took a large gulp of mead, "Come again?"
"My tongue," Innocently the tip of her knife pointed to the wrapped cold tongue at her side and then asked with concern, "Is the mustard too spicy?"
Legolas filled his mouth to the brim and swallowed all lewd thoughts of her tongue down with the mead. He cleared his throat, "Not at all."
Distracting himself with a task, one by one he emptied the contents of the bag. Foruyndes had truly expected to feed a larger party; there was enough food to last the two of them days. Far too generous considering how meticulous she was with her stores and how many hours she'd regaled him with the pressures of ensure their winter stores saw them through to spring.
Either Foruyndes' ill mind erred or had become negligent in her exuberance to aid in his romantic endeavors. He would have to reimburse Carthal's stores by way of his bow upon their return.
By the time the bag was emptied, a small pile of earthenware jars, more wrapped cheese and meat, dried and fresh fruits, and five twine bound packages of various sizes and contents laid before him.
His incredulous disbelief was met by Eryndes' own amusement. She made no comment though.
Until he picked out a small pottery jar and lifted the wire latch.
"Milk pudding?" she asked with surprise. "With blackfrost berry compote?" The way she was looking at him, he knew he was missing something. "Wherever did you find them?"
He hesitated. "In the bag."
Her surprise faded into a coy smile, "My favourite."
At once his stomach clenched. Foruyndes. "Blackfrost berries are exceedingly rare," he said lamely. He would've rathered the bag contain nothing but basic fair than having to admit the gesture was not his. "Foruyndes horde is indeed worthy of legend."
"Foruyndes?" Her smile faltered, her head dropping back to her toils. "Aye, she has her ways." Finishing quickly, she cleaned and put away the knife, then placed the wood board more equally between them. Eryndes cut them a decent amount for lunch but left most of the unnecessary surplus untouched. He watched her fine fingers wrap and bound, refilling the bag he'd emptied with strategic care. Heavy items to the bottom, light and breakable to the top.
She left out the two pots of pudding and biscuits yet cunningly placed them out of his reach.
"(Finished)?" he teased, "(may I eat now)?"
She topped up his cup. "You have much to learn about picnic etiquette."
"Oh?" he went to take another drink, "Or do you mean to say, Dúnedain etiquette?"
She stopped him, her fingers taking his wrist with a small laugh, "Is it not customary amongst elves to wait for the table to be set before 'both' may eat?"
"I am not required to wait for anyone," he explained easily, "well, except for my father." For a split moment Legolas stiffened at his own carelessness.
She released his wrist with disbelief, "Not even your king?"
Legolas forced a little laugh then raised his cup, "(To the king)?"
"To king Thranduil," she did the same, then added playfully, "And to your father for making you wait." When they'd both sipped, she unknowingly toasting to his father twice, she waved him forth, "Now, you may eat."
"(You are too kind)." He dug in but kept an amused watch of her controlled pace and manner; taking up single articles at a time and slow deliberate chews-
"May I ask you a question?"
So intent he'd been watching her eat, her question caught him by surprise. But he rewarded her interest in him with a bow, "Anything you wish."
"Will you tell me-," she hesitated, "I would very much like to know about your home." She continued hastily when Legolas hesitated, "But if it is not something you wish to talk about-?"
Legolas leant forward. "That is not at all the case. You of course mean Lasgalen." He took a decent slice of pork but didn't eat it straight away. "Much of my life has been itinerant in nature, shifting from patrol camps within the boundaries of the realm or with the rangers. Never have I remained anywhere long enough to be called home since my youth." He nodded, "However, please, what do you wish to know?"
Eryndes looked around her, "The woods of Carthal are the largest I have ever known and it is but a mere fraction of the size of Lasgalen. I have heard tales all my life about the great fortress, carved not by hand but by the passage of underground rivers-"
"There was some hand crafting involved."
Her bright eyes looked down, "There are so many wonders in the world. I have yet to see any of them."
"Then," he gently pushed, "perhaps you should."
"I always said I would," coming out of her reverie, she sat up higher on the ground, "And I do not wish to say never."
"What is stopping you?"
She shifted again, "No one to go with and it is not safe for women to go alone."
Though it was a valid point, he did not believe she'd given her full reasons. "You travelled when you were a child."
"With my father and my brother. And Aragorn." She smiled, "Probably the fondest memories I have." She blushed then cleared her throat. "So," she continued quickly, "you can see my fondness for learning about other lands."
"Indeed." He studied her closely, a new thrill touching his heart, "Lasgalen is one of those lands you would wish to see?"
She returned his stare. "Yes, I truly would. Even to visit the great halls of King Thranduil." She bit her lip, "That is if I was given leave to do so. Once my father travelled thus far with Aragorn, and although was welcomed into a patrol's camp for the night, he was very politely denied any further entry."
His gaze hadn't moved from her for some time but now shifted to the sunny meadow around them. "There is much darkness overshadowing the forest. In a different time, your father would have been welcomed into the realm. In these dark times however," he shook his head, "strict security must be maintained, not simply for our sake, but for outsiders as well. The forest has become dangerous."
He breathed in deeply, valiantly trying to stop a smile creeping to his face, "However, if you were to travel there, I would secure your leave to enter."
"Thank you, Master Elf, but I would never ask it of you."
His eyes sharply narrowed he shot back to her. "Why would you not?"
"I have not the right to ask," she said abashed.
He frowned, "Nonsense. If you care to see my homeland, then I would do all to ensure you do. Do you not think your interest pleases me? It would be my honour."
"Then I am grateful," she conceded with a warm smile. "Though I do not see a future where I am likely to go."
A pang touched his heart. "Because you cannot go alone?"
"That is one reason, yes."
His heart rattled and his nerves pressed him to take caution, but he said it anyway. "If you gave me the leave to do so, I would take you wherever your heart sought to venture."
His caution was founded; her gaze breaking from his, her head lowering. "You are too kind with your time. I could never be so greedy to take so much of it."
Taking a moment to catch his breath, Legolas allowed the right words come to him. "To look through your eyes upon that which has become mundane, would be to see the world anew."
Eryndes lifted her head, her embarrassment fading and a small smile touching her face. "Then perhaps one day." With a cheeky lift to her lips, she plucked up the milk puddings and biscuits and set them before them.
With a wry smile, Legolas took his share before she changed her mind.
For a good few minutes they both lounged under the shade, slowly sipping the last of the mead and partaking of the sweets.
Watching her gazing out at the meadow, he schooled his features and reached back behind, stroking the tree once more.
"You cannot trick me a second time," she said without looking at him.
"A pity." He rested down on his elbow, watching her setting aside her pudding pot. He looked at the half eaten dessert curiously; she'd said it was her favourite? "Then what else shall you do to entertain?"
"I beg your pardon?"
Smirking, he enjoyed the flush to her cheeks. "I am asking for a song."
"Picnic custom dictates one must pay for songs or to win them with games," she beamed knowingly at him, "but you will not pay a song with a song and we have no cards."
He sipped his mead slowly. She was right; he would not sing, no matter what she offered. Sitting back further, Legolas took in their surrounds and uttered to the poets flow;
"There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair.
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;
Never mind faded forests,
Never mind silent fields -
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum:
Please, dear lady,
To thy garden doth sung."
Eryndes' broad smile turned into giggles as he finished, her hand covering her mouth, "Did you just make that up?"
He eyed her through hooded eyelids, "You think I would speak words not my own?" Truly, he wished she wouldn't hide her mouth when she laughed. "If my payment is worthy," he said slyly, gesturing to her with a humble bow, "I do believe I am owed a song."
"Oh, very well," she laughed, and went to take another sip of mead.
"Now?"
The cup stopped before her lips. "A moment for pity's sake! I have to think of-"
"Why not the song you were singing the day we met," he challenged, "I am quite certain you remember which-"
"On the river bank I wandered one day," she sung quickly, her whole face becoming pink and not from the warmth of the day. "Where the violet waters run
There the yellow petals of primrose doth lay
'Neath the warmth of the morning sun.
Golden light, gentle rain falling from above,
With a beauty beyond compare,
Sweeter than the violin the language of love,
In the heart of his true love fair.
There he spied a fair young maid
Like a rose in its richest bloom,
And her raven hair with blossom arrayed
Filled the air with a sweet perfume
This jewel bright, this flower fair
She consented to be his bride.
A hundred years passed still none compare
To her loveliness by his side.
Silver stream, summer song calling from above
With a beauty beyond compare,
Sweeter than the violin the language of love,
In the heart of his true love fair."
He snorted and shook his head.
"What is wrong?" she demanded, her fingers absentmindedly play with Aragorn's necklace.
"What price must I pay?"
Her fingers around the white gem stopped, "For what?"
"For the song I seek."
Gathering her skirts with care, she rose to her feet, "Why not a kingdom?"
He stared up at her and didn't move to follow. "You trade your song for a kingdom?"
"Well if you have no kingdoms to spare," she rebuked flicking her loose hair over her shoulder, "whatever song I choose will have to suffice."
He held her eyes until she finally huffed, "Are we not to continue?"
"Perhaps not," he rolled onto his back, the grass beneath him soft and cushioning. He pillowed his head with his hands, "Perhaps here I will remain until I get what I bargained for."
"The bargain was for a song. I cannot be blamed if the song was not to your liking."
When she bent to pick up the bag, he discreetly admired the showing curve. "It was a fine song," he told her, returning to her face before she noticed. "May I have another?" he asked with a fair amount of cheek.
Her face tightened, her fingers fidgeting with the bag straps. "Should we not continue if we are to make the homestead before dark?"
"There is no need for haste," he eyed her from his prone position. "To leave now we will arrive two hours before nightfall."
"I thought you would want to continue? Attend to your unfortunate duty?"
His shoulders shrugged against the ground, "A pretty meadow on a radiant day? A fine meal with fair company? I am rarely offered so ample reasons for leisure." His brow rose, "Are you?"
"Well I-," She bit her lip, her eyes scanning around them, a small smile tugging at her efforts to remain stern. She turned away, "In that case, I think I will go pick at the wild flowers awhile."
His interest sparked, "You like wild flowers?"
"What woman does not?" she called over her shoulder.
On his feet in an instant and grabbing his bow and quiver pack, he relieved her of the heavy bag, her jaw slackened with an amused question.
He threw the bag over his shoulder. "Since I am refused another song, I will be content to see which flowers catch the eye of an apothecary."
0000
She snapped off another head.
"I believe you are at your limit."
Eryndes bent down again, snapping another wild daisy while he watched. Never before had he imagined watching her pick flowers would be so enjoyable.
Seeing the fine outline to her backside every time she bent helped and she did know each of their names and even if any could be consumed. Some could also be used for medicinal purposes.
She bent again, this time lower, cradling awkwardly the bundle of flowers with the other arm.
"Did I not say your kind plundered without due care?" he snickered. "Maybe you ought to leave some for next time?"
Standing upright, her eyes scanned the rocky bank and chattering stream in the bright early afternoon sunshine. "They are not just for me, but for Bjariel."
"Whom?"
"Huaen's wife? Where we will stay tonight. She loves pressing flowers. Making them into fine collages. The least we can do is bring her some pretty flowers. Unless you want to fell a boar or something? We really should have come with more to offer-"
"Very well, pick your flowers," he watched her duck down again, this time to pick at a small red burst of colour, "but how much more can you possibly carry?"
She smiled slyly back up at him then held out her plunder to him.
He crossed his arms over his chest, "My pockets are already filled to the brim with your herb collection."
"But your arms are not." She tugged at his arm with her free hand when he refused, "You will carry everything but my flowers?"
He smirked, "But they are not your flowers. They are for Bjariel-" he stopped when she gasped in surprise. "Eryndes?"
"There is a stag over there, watching us."
"I am aware."
"You are?" her eyes flicked to him then back to the stag.
"He has been watching us for a while now."
Eryndes stepped away from him in the direction of the deer. "I wonder why. We cannot poise much interest for such a proud creature."
"There are many deer in this gully. Why does this one capture your attention?"
She was now smiling at the stag standing a mere ten paces from them across the other side of the stream. "Mainly because this one is staring directly at us," she pointed out a little bothered by his lack of interest. "Can you not talk to him?"
"Eryndes," he said perhaps a little firmly. He glared directly at the stag to show his intrusion was unwelcome.
Relenting reluctantly, she returned her attention to him, "You do not like deer?"
The stag darted forward, clearly not understanding Legolas' warning; jumping cleanly over the stream and rocks, to land on the grass directly in front of them. Eryndes watched in amazement as the beast lowered his head, his massive antlers down so low they made markings in the soft ground. Then picking up his head he bounded off back into the forest.
Eryndes gaped. "How odd. Did I just fall into dream? Why did he do that?"
"It is odd behaviour," he agreed with her in a deliberate tone of disinterest.
She continued to gape at him, her brow furrowing and lips tightening.
He shrugged and was aggravated by his sudden awkwardness, "I agree, it is odd." Now was not the time to explain his family's spiritual connection to elk and deer. And if that stag ever showed his face again, Legolas would truly make his feelings known.
"Perhaps you would have known his intent if you had but spoken to him," she grumbled.
"I can talk to beasts, they however, cannot speak back," he explained a little hotly, "If they could, do you not think eating them may become a little uncomfortable."
"I did not think of it like that-," she stopped. "Wait, you do not eat venison or elk."
He raised an eyebrow in question. "Just because I do not eat them does not mean I want to speak to them."
Eryndes fidgeted with the flowers in her arms, "I cannot understand how you would not like venison. But then I suppose, if you do not like ale, fermented beans, soured cream, jellied eels, pickled tongue, dried kidneys, blue cheese-"
"I promise; the next stag we see," he growled, wishing she'd drop the topic, "I will recite the tale of your choice."
She did not respond. He no longer held her attention. Something had caught her eye and she moved away from him towards the bushes.
"What are you looking at now?" he demanded, his keen eyes seeing nothing worthy of note or her apparent fixation. He could not help but be a little irritated at being so easily and willingly ignored.
She didn't answer, transfixed, she began walking away from the stream over to the bushes and trees just up the rise. Using her free hand to hold her skirt, she gracefully knelt down on the short grass by the bushes. Reaching into the heavily foliaged but short bush, she picked a flower and bought it to her nose. Turning back to him she smiled, "Chamomile."
"Chamomile?" he asked, coming up beside her to study the bush and its plentiful flowers, his irritation forgotten. The elf in him appreciated the simple beauty of the white petals and vibrant yellow centre though he did fail to understand her excitement.
"A very useful flower," she explained, handing him the flower head, "I am surprised these are blooming so late in the season."
He took the flower from her and placed it in his palm, looking closely. Feeling her eyes on him, he looked up to see her waiting for his conclusion. "All I see is a flower. I agree, pretty, and makes a decent tea-"
She tried to take it back, but he pulled away quicker. "Well?" he pressed smugly, "Why did you so rudely ignore me to look at a flower no more special than the dozens already picked?"
"It is medicine. A delicious tea yes but mostly chamomile is used to treat any number of ailments."
He regarded the flower in his hand again. "Truly?"
"Alas it would not cure your spoilt taste."
With a snort he handed it back to her.
"No, no," she turned back to the bush, "We should take as many as we can. And try to get a few good cuttings to plant back home."
Around them, everything went quiet-
"We should call the horses so I can fill my saddlepack-"
Legolas' eyes and ears scanned about them. Nothing seemed amiss-
"-of course, once we reach Huaen's farm, they will need to be set for drying-"
The air was stilled. Then he heard it-
"Huaen and Bjariel won't mind at all tending the drying-"
What he heard was . . . odd. He touched her shoulder, "Eryndes?" he quietened her with his whisper.
Her carefree words stopped and whispered, "What is it?"
"I do not know." He took her arm and urged her back to her feet, his senses still scanning around them. The noise grew; rhythmic pounding, but not hoof or boot.
"Master Elf?" Eryndes gasped, the taint of fear entering her tone.
Dread was vastly filling his stomach. "Something approaches."
"'Something'? Orcs? These woods are supposed to be safe-"
"Shh," he tried to calm her increasingly frightened words. He trained his focus to the forest edge just to the north of them. "Not orcs. Maybe just a creature. If we remain quiet it may pass us by."
She edged in closer to him. "Should we not try to hide?"
The rhythm changed. So did the direction, and the speed.
Reacting instantly Legolas breathed in then sent out a short distinctive whistle. With a wave of despair over his own foolishness, Legolas dropped the food bag to the ground and pulled his bow from his back.
Eryndes' face paled.
What had he done? They were miles from aid and he, a lone elf, was all that stood between a defenseless woman and whatever now tore its way through the forest in their direction.
"Get behind me."
Panic filled her eyes. "Shouldn't we try to run?" she begged.
The speed of the pounding was conclusive. They couldn't outrun it. At least they both couldn't.
Aglarebon and Banjo were at least two minutes hard gallop away. And galloping they were but too far away.
"Get behind me," he grimly repeated.
This time she quickly did as he bade, just as the forest ahead of them broke apart. Foliage and brush was torn aside, and a beast beyond anything he'd seen emerged at full stride.
"Keep behind me!" he commanded firmly, edging them closer to the bushes and trees. Something so large, going that fast surely wouldn't turn so nimbly and he could use the trees as cover.
The black creature let out a loud cry, like the battle cry of an orc. But this was no orc.
Legolas took another pace towards the trees. Leaving his bow and arrow in place with one hand, he reached behind and took a firm grasp of her arm.
He was almost ready to throw her behind the tree when the creatures pace changed. The pounding begun to slow.
"Master El-?"
"I do not know," he hushed her. "Remain behind me." Letting go of her, he held his armed bow at full extension in clear warning.
The beast came to a stop not closer than three meters from them. Then stood up, rising up on two legs. It was as tall as Legolas, but thickly built and hairy, a mix of ape and man. Its eyes, skin and hair were black as a moonless night. Its protruding jaw and skull massive, its large teeth yellow.
Legolas narrowed his eyes and aimed for the middle of its black eyes. "I warn you; back away!"
The beast made no reaction or show of understanding. Instead it tilted its wide head, its eyes trying to see behind him.
"(Stop. We have no quarrel)," he tried Sindarin.
The beast eyes narrowed at him, then shifted the other way to see behind him-
Legolas stepped back into its gaze. "(Back away)," he warned again, this time in Quenya.
The creature was somewhat intelligent, that much was clear. Yet there were hundreds of languages it could speak, if it had the capability to speak at all.
The beast stepped away to the side. Again, he stepped back in front to hide her, "Keep behind me," he growled at her.
"I am," came her frightened whisper. "Should you not kill it?"
He eyed the beast carefully, "I do not know of what it is capable. Never have I seen its like."
The beast started to rise to full height, its muscles beginning to tense-
"(I will kill you)," he snarled in the language of the East.
The beast stopped and bared its teeth, "(You speak my tongue, creature?)
"(I speak many tongues)," he raised the bow to track the middle of its head, "(We have no quarrel-)"
"(Are you going to eat that)?" The beast lowered its head, "(Allow me to share and we will have no quarrel)."
His hands tightened around his bow, "(Back away)."
The beast cocked its head, "(It's scrawny but you will share it)."
"(She is not for eating)!"
"What is it saying?"
His stomach dropped. "He wants to eat you."
She clung to his back, "Only me?"
"He thinks you are my prey."
The beast threw back its head and out came a loud hacking he took for laughing, "(My mistake! I see the scrawny one is female. I also see she is yours)!" The beast took a single step back and waved its massive hand, "(Go on. I will let you live if you pass her for me. I've not had the pleasure of a female in many moons-)."
His arrow shot passed its ear and another took its place on his bow quicker than the beast could react. "(You will have nothing)!" he bellowed so loud his voice echoed repeatedly off the mountains.
A growl, deep like the ice tigers of the frozen far north filled the forest, (I shall enjoy eating you)," its eyes looked at Eryndes, "(but not before I ravish your mate before your eyes. And if she does survive me, I won't kill her before I eat her too)!"
A coldness numbed him. A battle between fear and rage tore at his focus. "Step back. When I tell you, you will run, you will not look back. You will not stop until you reach the horses-"
"Master Elf-"
"Do you understand me?!" he roared, images of the beast's intentions flashing through his head, sickening his stomach and shook at his extremities. His vision clouded until all he saw was the beast.
The touch of her hand vanished. "Yes," came her small trembling reply.
"You get to the horses and head west back along the track. Understood?"
"Yes."
The smallest relief entered his rage. He took a few slow steps towards the beast. "(You should have heed my warning and moved on)," satisfied by the distance away from Eryndes, he replaced the arrow. Tossing his bow to he cared not where, Legolas drew his knives, "(Now I will tear you apart)."
The beast laughed-
"Run!"
The beast anticipated his attack, just as he expected. Dodging the massive fist aimed at his head, he ducked low, tumbling then bouncing back to his feet. The creature swung at him but Legolas was quicker, twisting on the balls of his feet, he easily avoided the strike. Instinct told him to end this quickly. He might've advanced swiftly, gone for the heart or take off its arm and demand surrender.
His rage demanded revenge.
Legolas reversed the grip of one knife and stabbed. With a roar of pain, two of the creature's fingers fell to the ground.
The beast circled around him, gaining speed. Its intent was clear; the beast had the greater bulk. At speed, it could flatten him to the ground. With a growl of his own, Legolas leapt to the side. With his knife held out before him and low. The beast was able to evade his attack but it did slow.
Legolas gained, stalking in closer and not allowing the beast room to charge.
"(Ravish her)?!" he snarled in Easterling, the vision of that beast throwing her to the ground. His slashed hard at the image, his blade deflected by the creature but not enough, nicking its thigh. He saw the beast's club hands tearing at Eryndes' clothing, forcing himself upon her, his name she screamed for help-
Without care for himself, he lunged again, spinning down low, his blade slicing in deeply across the dark abdomen, spilling blood, stinking fluids and innards. Through the haze of blood rage, he heard the beast's shriek of pain.
"(Eat her)?!" he wrenched its dislocated arm back and kicked with all his might, shattering bone. The beast's was howling in agony but Legolas didn't stop. He kicked again, then threw the beast down onto its knees.
"(Pity your death is not longer)," he hissed down into its ear then shoved his knife into its neck, sinking in deep, all the way to the hilt. "(Be a feast for worms)!" Grabbing the creatures scalp and pulling up, he yanked the hilt around, cutting, tearing, ripping its head off its neck with unnatural gargling sound. Red blood splattered and soaked. In hatred and anger, he threw the head as far away as he could. It bounced along the forest floor with a dull thud, rolling away into the thick scrub.
His vision came back into focus. The late afternoon sunshine filtered through the trees, sounds of the meadow returning to his ears. The wind lightly swept through his hair. He felt the creature's blood cooling on his skin and clothes.
Sensing eyes upon him, he looked up-
And all breath left him.
Eryndes.
She stood, still and eyes wide, exactly in the same spot. She hadn't run.
His heart stopped. The world stopped. Transfixed as if caught in deep mud, he stared in horror. She'd stayed. She'd been in direct danger. She'd seen him tear into the beast. She'd seen it all. His every muscle strained beneath his skin. He felt sick.
She'd seen the complete ruthlessness which long ago earned him infamous names like Legolas the Merciless, Greenleaf the Destroyer.
"Why did you not run?" he choked. "I told you to run."
Flinching, her gaze lifted from his blood soaked clothes and skin to his face. There was no warmth or recognition.
She'd seen the monster he was.
"(Answer me)!" howled the pain in his heart.
But all he got was another flinch.
Backing up, Legolas stumbled away from her. Marching to the stream, he waded in knee deep and scrubbed. His fingernails dug, his scrubbing frantic. He heard and saw nothing until the last drop of blood had been lifted from his boots, clothes and person. Next he slashed his blades through the water, scouring the handles until they too were clean.
Throwing himself back up the grassy bank, he emptied the water from his boots then made his way back to where Eryndes still stood. Her head was down and she refused to see him.
It took two attempts to fill his breath before he could whistle his chest so tight. But he no longer possessed the will to speak. Aglarebon came across the few metres of grass.
With both of them mounted, he didn't spare Aglarebon and Banjo, keeping their pace hard the remaining miles to the homestead.
0000
Huaen's farm was so craftily situated anyone not knowing it's location would miss it. However Legolas barely acknowledged the fact. He pushed Aglarebon down the hidden trail, which after a few turns, lead out into a superbly situated farm. Sheltered from the winds by the dark rocky mountains and rich with sunlight, the farm sat on what must have been the flattest ground to be found. Though the cottage, barn and fencing all appeared weatherworn, it was all well kept.
Pulling up, the farmer Huaen and his wife, Bjariel, came out of their home into the late afternoon. The air was already cooling rapidly and the elderly couple bid them forth from under their thick coats and mittens.
After they'd dismounted, Eryndes introduced him to them, to which he politely inclined his head. He then spoke the words he had long planned. He told them about his discovery of Huaen's cousin in Angmar. He spared the wife the nastier details and apologised for not being able to bring the Dunedain back home for proper burial.
Huaen bowed his head with thanks for Lord Sindar's coming all the way out there to deliver this news in person. He then bid both Eryndes and he stayed the night.
Legolas accepted this with sincere gratitude.
Bjariel stepped in then, pointing to the barn and ordering her husband to care for the horses, and took Eryndes by the waist and guided her into the cottage. Looking back at Legolas, she screwed up her aging face, "Surely you can aid my husband, my lord."
Huaen took Banjo's reins, "I must apologise for my wife's tongue, my lord-"
"The Dunedain call me Sindar. I would be grateful if you were to also."
Huaen and Sindar lead the horses towards the barn together, "Sindar then. My wife has little patience for propriety. But you will have a decent goat stew and my best cider."
Once in the barn, Legolas told Huaen about the ape-like creature he and Eryndes was set upon. He tried to urge the old man to consider giving up his farm and moving his wife to the safety of Carthal.
Huaen smiled and shook his head, "There are many creatures migrating into the west to escape the evil of the east. The wife and I have worked these fields for a hundred and fifty years. If our time is to be at an end, then our end will be in these fields."
Legolas frowned at the man. "Forgive me for speaking uncivil but this creature was without honour or decency. Your wife-"
"Rest assured, my lord Sindar," Huaen patted his shoulder then closed the stall behind Banjo, "We'd never be taken alive."
Night in the mountains was cold. Far colder than the already freezing nights down on the flats. Huaen and his wife kept a sizable fire fed with plenty of dry wood. Bjariel served them a large meal of steaming hot stew and warmed cider. Eryndes quietly mentioned to her that 'lord Sindar doesn't suffer the cold' but Bjariel took no notice and promised him a stack of blankets would be supplied for his assigned armchair in the living room. She then went on to emphasise Eryndes' bed would be up the stairs, in a room on the other side of her and her husbands. And one had to go through their room first to get to hers.
Eryndes didn't mention Bjariel's precautions towards preserving her virtue were unwarranted.
Legolas didn't correct her either. Elven morality notwithstanding, it was far from necessary when Eryndes wouldn't even raise her head to look at him.
Instead he thanked her for the blankets and ate his plate clean; not because he was hungry for he had no appetite. It was the polite thing to do. He did however beg to be released from a second helping, with the assurance that the stew was just as tasty as Huaen promised.
After supper, Huaen engaged him in conversation about the happenings at Carthal, continuing into the mundane but civil conversation about farming in the mountains. Legolas paid him due attention but all the while wishing to escape.
His heart was heavy.
During the course of the evening his host must have guessed as much, for not long after the first post-supper pot of tea was finished, Huaen gathered up his wife from Eryndes' side and lead her off to bed.
Of course with Bjariel's screwed up face of warning directed at Legolas.
After suffering three and a third minutes of silence from Eryndes, Legolas shot up to his feet, bid her 'good evening' and made his way outside.
The crisp air and white moonlight greeted him. He didn't go too far. Just far enough down along one of the fence-lines to be considered 'alone'.
There he was allowed to sink into his fury, berate his lack of control during his battle with the ape-beast, and grieve what was surely the loss of Eryndes.
The past few weeks had gone so well for him, and with the success of their day today, he'd begun to believe most fervently in their possible union. He felt it in his very soul; he'd found the one he'd love and wed. He'd even begun musing about their nuptial-furlough; he'd never met his kin in Lothlorien and Eryndes so fondly recalled the tales Aragorn told her as a child . . .
That dream was now deemed impossible. His father was right. What did he know of love? Was a heartless warrior, bereft of all tenderness and consumed by emptiness but concealing it by haughty vanity, ever to be worthy of a wife?
What did he truly possess to make her an offer? And now she'd born witness to the very worst of his quality. How could she ever see beyond the monster?
His attention spiked and he was drawn out of his thoughts by a movement in the night.
Legolas eyes squeezed shut. Was she coming to end their acquaintance? How would his heart endure?
He heard her walk around the outside of the cottage. He smelt the sweetness of her scent and the fragrant tea she brought with her.
She came to his side, quiet as she'd been all that evening and held out the mug of tea.
He took the tea with a nod of gratitude but didn't drink. He doubted he could've stomached it anyway. However he did hold the mug tight as if it were a lifeline, as well as stopping his hands from fidgeting. He shuffled on the spot waiting for her to speak.
"I am so sorry," came her voice, small and uncertain, not like the sweet warm character he'd come to expect.
Slowly he turned to her, his face furrowing even further seeing her tentative. He blinked, forcing his lips to open. "You are sorry?"
"Oh please let me apologise!" she broke, "I don't know what came over me. I wanted to do as you said. I was just so scared. Desperately I wanted to run but couldn't move-"
"Eryndes," his gut wrenched horribly. "You believe I am angry with you?"
"It was I who stopped for the chamomile. You were protecting us. You risked your life to give me a chance to run . . ." she looked down at her hands, "I understand your anger; I didn't run and you could have been h-hurt-"
"(You understand nothing)," he backed away from her.
Her silence lingered but she followed, keeping in close. Her innocent blue eyes searched his face, waiting for his explanation.
"I am not angry. I am ashamed," he pained at length, "for you to have seen this . . . side of me; an ugliness never again to be concealed beyond your sight."
The distant sounds of the insects filled his ears and it felt an eternity before the stillness in the air changed.
A warm touch feathered on his cheek and drew him back to her. Such a potential show of affection should've pleased him but he dared not and kept focused on the space above her.
"You-saved-my-life!"
The cold steel in her voice belied the tenderness of her touch and his eyes dropped down to hers.
The steel was not only in words but in the hard line of her mouth. "Killing is ugly. Death is ugly. I am not so naive to believe otherwise. That beast deserved far worse than the brutal end upon your knives. I certainly entertain no pity; only gladness. I thank you a thousand times for what you did."
Having said her piece, her touch fell away and she stood back to a respectable distance. "My only lament, my shame, is with my own actions," she flinched, "Or lack thereof. I may have been cause to distract you. You might have been hurt . . . k-killed."
For many beatings of his heavy heart, Legolas remained utterly still. Her words and concern for him attempted to break through his isolation and soothe. The tingling from where she'd touched him spread over his face and down his neck, down to depths he know not where.
But she was not yet done. Not by the blazing fire still burning in her eyes.
"This 'ugliness' you can no longer conceal? I ask you, what warrior does not? A life spent fighting evil, and you think I, with all my life surrounded by rangers, find it unexpected?"
"Knowing to expect is not the same as seeing," he breathed, "By my life I would have spared you-"
"Why?" she demanded. "Why?"
Under her fiery scrutiny he found himself fumbling for the right words. "I-I never wish to be lowered in your esteem-"
"Because you kill or my knowing you are apt at it?"
Squeezing his fists, he turned away from her. She didn't understand.
"My esteem is not so fickle," again she followed him, "I would watch you slaughter ten thousand monsters never to think less of you. You are a warrior. Do you think me less for amputating a child's leg to save from gangrene? We each attend our duty."
Again her words were trying to balm his hurt. Yet stubbornly he shook them away. "Precisely," he squeezed his fists, "I 'am' a warrior, as ruthless as you have now seen. This is all I can claim to be. Whatever I once might have been, this-this was my choice. I chose my duty to be the death of others. Perhaps now I seek-I hope there can be more to my purpose, and in your presence I can at least for a time-" he took a deep breath, "I feel I can be more than an instrument of destruction. I would grieve the loss-" He stopped when she grasped his arm.
"A warrior and nothing more?! Can you truly be so foolish?!"
Lifting his chin, he bore the brunt of her austerity head on.
"You are no instrument of destruction and I won't ever allow you to say so again," she blazed, her grip on him tightening. "Tell me what ruthlessness decides to spend his time telling tales to children? What monster possesses the charity to befriend the unsound Foruyndes without ploy or ridicule?"
She wasn't understanding. "That is different-"
"What ugliness defends women and babies from the evils of men?" She went on, her back as rigid as the iron to her eyes, "Who sits up night after night to companion a heartbroken young man? Volunteers to aid women in work most men think beneath them-?"
He tried to step back, "I would hardly call-"
She followed him, "Joust says you're teaching him to swim-"
Giving up retreating, he faced her again, "Inability to swim is dangerous-"
"And teaches the likes of poor Triw to read-"
Her persistence was beginning to break through his fury at himself. But didn't she understand he didn't want that? "Triw's reading is vital-"
"Who-who takes Faron's challenge for absolutely no reward?" She stood right up to him, her finger pointing into his chest, her eyes blazing like the sun, "Who comes here, a place not his home, to defend those who are not his people? Who rides out into the far west to honour the death of a man you never knew? Just a warrior? You would have to be the most honourable, kind-hearted 'fool' I had the fortune to know! How dare you think any less!" So worked up, she took a many quick breaths to regain herself. "You think seeing this side of you would tarnish my esteem, then you truly are a fool."
Left without words, Legolas stared down at her, blood pounding in his ears. She wasn't just consoling; she actually believe it. Believed every word she was practically shouted in his face.
And staring at her conviction, so fierce, so unwavering in the face of his defiance, the cares of the world faded from sight leaving naught but a mortal woman in all her goodness, voicing her most fervent belief in him . . . It was worth everything; all the world's gold and gems, all the light, beauty and friendships, every battle victory.
What he would not do to keep such faith alive, to witness everlasting the zeal of her belief? To live up to the esteem in her eyes? Even if it took an eternity, he pledged at once it was what he wanted above all things.
Then he felt it, the burning of his heart. The shattering of his soul. Then strengthening, like rebirth, feeling it down into the very depths of his soul. And he knew;
He was in love.
So overwhelming, exhilarated by the revelation, the burning and brightening every corner of his spirit, he dropped his head lest she might spy it in his eyes. "(I may be a fool but you are kindness beyond sense)."
"It is not kindness. Or beyond sense. It is the truth."
The burning of his heart spread to his face. "I am not worthy of this praise."
Her hold on his arm tightened, "If not you, then there are none."
Encouraged by her words, he bravely raised his head and looked at her through the corners of his eyes. She stood out in the darkness, the one his heart chose to love; a woman of great kindness and warmth. Soft yet vibrant, spirited and unspoiled, and lovely in the pale moonlight. But she was human and blind to the sight of love in an elf's eyes.
He wasn't certain if he was to be glad or disappointed.
"There is so much to life I have yet to experience. War is all I have ever known. But in my heart," he carefully revealed, Aragorn's warning no more than a strained whisper at the edge of his mind. For even her lips shone in the moon's soft glow. And they spoke silently to him, promising. "I do . . . yearn for more."
Calling . . .
"Perhaps that is why you came to Carthal?" her regard softening, a gentle smile sneaking across her face. "Even in an unforgivable land like this, there is joy of life and purpose far beyond the end of a sword?"
"Perhaps," he admitted just above a whisper. The draw of his siren held him captive, helpless, a bee to blossoms, a dragon to gold. Compelling. Bewitching. Although unmoving, the distance between them suddenly seemed to shrink.
All he needed was dip his head, be willing to entrust his love to her-
"Lord Sindar? Where are you?"
Whipping around, Eryndes waved even though the old woman couldn't possibly see them in the darkness. "We are over here."
Legolas stared at the line of her hair, the roundness of her ears, and felt the night air crush him. It was an effort to draw breath.
"Bring Eryndes back inside. It's far too cold out there for her!"
Bjariel's scolding call pulled him further back to his senses. He was being impatient. They weren't even courting yet. She knew not the way of his heart.
This was not the time to offer his love.
Given another few minutes in privacy, however, he could perhaps broach the subject of formal courtship-
"This minute!"
Perhaps not.
He was patient. He could wait. Rallying his spirits, he held out his arm with a wry smile, "Best I do as told. She is a scary woman."
Eryndes snickered taking his arm, "Bjariel's scarier than Sali?"
"Sali?" he snorted, leading her towards the light from the homestead, albeit quite slowly. "Sali is a mere brook to the Anduin. An . . . 'odd' brook but no more frightening."
Eryndes whispered a sigh, "Oh, how I long to gaze upon of the Great River. You must have seen it hundreds of times. Will you tell me what is it like?"
"Well," he allowed himself to become smug, "It is a long river."
When she rebuked him with a tap to his shoulder and a demand for him to be serious, Legolas' spirit soared like they'd not for a very long time. Eryndes had witnessed the worst part of him, parts he'd never have wished to show her.
She saw the monster within him. It didn't scare her. She wasn't disgusted.
No, instead she called him a fool and perhaps so he was.
And what he didn't know about love and tenderness, perhaps one day she'd be willing to teach him.
He covered her hand with his. That night he told her everything he knew about the Anduin, their discussion then shifting from topic to topic, tales and anecdotes, passing well into the night.