* Thanks to all those who reviewed, favoured, followed and kudos-ed. After receiving suggestions, I have begun replying to reviews on . If I fail, feel free to pelt me with rotten fruit.
** Thank you for your patience. It has been hard to find the time to return to Middle Earth these last few months. This is part one of either a two or three part chapter. As many faithful readers know, I don't like posting the 'parts' separately, but am because I haven't posted anything for months!
*** A two minute demonstration with an ex-special forces soldier was astounding to experience, but laughably no way enough to make me any sort of authority. Please forgive anything I get wrong.
**** As always, thank you to Frannel for being my writing buddy. Couldn't write anything without you!
Dramatis Personæ
Aglarebon – Woodland Stallion, Sindar's horse, 6yo
Aragorn/Strider – Male, Chieftain of the Dúnedain, 86 yo
Baradon/Sculls – Male, Elite Ranger Scout, 27yo
Bregol/Web - Male, Ranger, 23yo
Camaenor/Vice - Male, Master of Arms, 79yo
Cordoves/Swan – Female, Elite Ranger Scout, 63yo
Eryndes – Female, Mistress of Carthal & Apothecary, 47yo
Faron/Dusk – Male, Hunting Master & Elite Ranger Scout, 81yo
Foruyndes – Female, Mistress of Stores, 184yo
Gueniel – Female, Midwife, 61yo
Gell - Male, Commander of Rangers, 56yo
Laeron/Wren – Male, Elite Ranger Scout, 17yo
Lobordir/Joust – Male, Master of Stables & Elite Ranger Scout, 59yo
Mydedis – Female, Mistress of Housekeeping, 175yo
Mereniel/Ivy – Female, Elite Ranger Scout (Pregnant), 39yo
Nestdôl – Male, Master of Healing, Elder Master of Carthal, 178yo
Romon – Male, Elder Master of Carthal, 158yo
Sali – Female, Mistress of Kitchen, 193yo
Sindar/Master Elf /Legolas – Sinda Male, Prince of the Woodland Realm, 2976yo
Trîw/Jester – Male, Elite Ranger Scout, 35yo
Úrion/Bear – Male, Second in Command, 126yo
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Choices (Part One)
He found her sitting alone outside at one of the larger tables by the kitchen and ancient cherry . The afternoon sun shone bright and yet the air remained frosty; within the elapse of a few days the weather had shifted for the worst. Upon their return from Huaen's farm, Legolas and Eryndes rode through winter's first snowfall one day after enjoying warm sunshine. Sudden and extreme as it was known here in the far north, the weather sought to weed out the lesser saplings from the strong.
The Dúnedain were no lesser saplings. All of Carthal's people moved with purpose and no single complaint to be heard. There was much to be done after-all. Around the great wall, Camaenor and his craftsman worked diligently to affix the newly crafted couillards and onagers to their positions. Down behind the wall stood in silent menace thirty new ballistaes and another twenty small trebuchets. The ballistaes were of Camaenor's own design, delivering repeating bolts while being wheeled and light enough to reposition during battle. A design even the Dwarves were sure to acknowledge.
The armoury, though already fully stocked, took to their work and had churned out a double hundred more spears, bows, shields and an army worth of arrows.
Carthal was still not as battle ready as Legolas would've preferred. However in addition to the rework done on the damaged parts of the wall, it was indeed something.
Their were some amongst the Carthal Dúnedain who raised eyebrows at Úrion and Sindar's call to fortify over the passed few weeks since Aragorn's departure. Despite those raised brows, folk did as bidden and when Aragorn did return with the expected hundred additional rangers, Carthal should greet their chieftain proud and ready for war.
The war however was not to begin this day.
Standing somewhat discreetly, Legolas watched her tend her trade; mixing pressed herb oil and like with waxes and preserving alcohol.
If his mind wasn't set firm he might've offered aid and happily endured many lengthy explanations of herb and oil and the ailments each cured. But his mind was set. It had been set the moment the ape-creature tore through the forest towards them merely four days earlier.
Out of the corner of his eye a group of women came out of the smoking shed, carrying whole legs of smoked ham and sausage strings ready for the wedding feast less than a week hence. Even with the preparations for war the Dúnedain fully intended to celebrate joyfully the union between Baradon and Celegeth. Legolas truly could not fault them, for why should battles be won if life was not lived?
The women moved in convoy, ever loud and eager to snoop in the business of others, continuing their way towards the manor. Soon he would have an audience.
"Eryndes?" he called quickly.
At once her head came up and looked at him warmly, "Master Elf. What are you doing standing there?"
"(Come haste. Before the women see your abduction)."
Though surprised, she forgot her medicines and joined him, "You are abducting me?"
"Come," he took her hand and matched her out and away from the gardens to an empty grain field.
"What is the purpose of your abduction?" she laughed, almost stumbling trying to keep up with him, "and to the barley field? It is soon to snow again."
"I have decided you will learn to defend yourself." Far enough to be out of direct sight, he released her hand to unbuckle his quiver-pack and tossed it to a safe distance. "Let me see you punch me."
She waited for the joke. "I beg your pardon?"
"I am going to educate you."
Her smile lacked conviction, "Oh, Master Elf, I am honoured by the offer but-"
"It is not an offer. Do not argue."
Her jaw slackened, "I . . . you . . . you cannot . . ."
Legolas gave no quarter and dared her to refuse.
"I see; you don't understand. I am not built for-" she waved her hand, trying her gentler reasoning on him, "fighting and-and weapons. I was never any good at the games either-"
"Eryndes," he imposed ever his father's son. With due care for civility, he took the edge of her woollen shawl and then raised an eyebrow when she didn't yield the garment. "Do not waste your breath. Trust I will not be swayed and promise you will indeed need your breath."
Her eyes flicked back at the manor. He waited, daring her to walk away.
She didn't. Just as he knew she wouldn't and he tossed her shawl on top of his weapons.
"Surely you have far more important matters to attend-"
"Punch me," Legolas tapped the spot between his brows, "right here. As hard as you can."
She gaped like he was mad, "I would rather eat my own head."
Tapping the spot again, he kept his tone firm, "Eryndes. Hit me."
"Never!"
"Because you fear hurting me? You cannot."
"Master Elf, have your senses gone south? I would 'never' strike you."
He waited, patiently and so did she. Until finally he sniggered, "I can wait forever. Can you?"
She growled under her breath.
"Simply try."
Exhaling sharply, Eryndes drew back and swung. He easily caught her hand with a cluck of his tongue, "Did Aragorn not show you how to make a fist?"
"Of course not," she defended indignantly. "I tried to strike my brother once and my mother came after me with a broom."
Moving her thumb to the outside, he held up her fist, "Drive through the first two knuckles. Try again."
She swung again, again he caught it, "Harder. Use your hips."
"My hips?"
He demonstrated. "As a women you do not have the strength in your upper body and so must learn to compensate."
She tried again. "Harder."
Again. "Harder."
"Harder!"
With a bite to her lower lip and serious effort to her features, she swung with all her might.
This time he kept his arms loose at his sides and didn't block and her fist smacked him right between the eyes.
Eryndes was shrieking before he hit the ground. "Oh, why did you do that?! Are you alright? Please tell me you are alright. Why did you do that?"
Legolas couldn't help it. An irrepressible laugh shook through him.
"What are-?" she stared, kneeling beside him in the grass, "Are you laughing?"
His laughing grew louder.
"Stop laughing!" she howled, "At once!"
He tried to smother it but couldn't, "Why are you so upset? You did it well."
She shot to her feet. "Why you-?"
"(Be calm)," he soothed, "(I did it on purpose)."
"But why? Are you hurt?"
The outrage on her face was humorous and he started laughing again.
"Stop laughing at me!" The iron in her demand was betrayed with her teeth sinking into her bottom lip to stop joining his laugh.
Legolas pulled himself together but kept his smirk. "I am unhurt."
"Then get up. I do not wish for people to see I hit you."
"Would you not be proud to be the only Dúnedain to send me to my backside?"
She growled, "Did Faron not?"
"No," his smirk dropped, "he did not."
"Will you please get up?"
Legolas chortled again and lounged back on his elbows, "Perhaps I like it down here. Much safer. I think perhaps Dúnedain women are too dangerous for me."
She glowered at him then looked around them, "What would Aragorn say if he knew I hit you?"
"Offer his congratulations?"
"Master Elf!" she cried, turning back to him, "Will you stop making fun of me?"
"I was not making fun. Not wholly. I am proving a point."
Giving up Eryndes sat down beside him on the frozen ground, fixing her skirt to hide her legs, "No-one is going to let me hit them in the face."
"Ah, but that is not the lesson." His tone became serious, "Anyone can be beaten if they refuse to try."
Her fingers played with the grass, but didn't answer.
"Come. Did you think I could be brought down by a single punch from," he paused with a grin, "a less than able woman?"
Though still not meeting his gaze, her shoulders did square. "Why should I ever think on such things?"
Legolas waited. Just as he'd known she wouldn't have walked away before, he knew she'd answer.
"Nay," she admitted finally, "Nay, I did not think it possible."
"The lesson is learnt," he approved. "It is more than possible. There are ways to bring 'anyone' down if one knows how. Hitting me where you did it is the body's instinct to do anything, even surrender to the ground to protect the head. And thus now you must wonder what other things you might be capable if you were only to try."
Her head slowly shook, "How do I know you did not feign falling?"
"You believe I like being hit in the face? Even by you?" Impulsively he reached over and took her hand, drawing her gaze and she watched silently as he examined her knuckles. "You hit too much on the left. Your aim should be through the first two knuckles. I imagined it hurt."
Eryndes didn't retract her hand as perhaps she should have given his boldness.
"I suppose but I think my attention was preoccupied by your crashing to the ground."
He chuckled quietly, his thumb grazing tenderly over her knuckles and wondered slyly if the rest of her skin was just as soft. "A new experience for us both." But he was getting distracted. He got to his feet. Still holding her hand coaxed her to do the same. "Let us continue. Alas I do not have a mithril blade small enough to conceal on your person however Camaenor is already fashioning a knife to my strict specifications. He assures me you will find it light and quite fine."
Defensiveness grew on her face again, "A knife? You want me to 'carry' a knife?"
"At all times and I shall be checking," he commanded. She may never be able to fight off monsters, but a swift, unexpected strike with a blade from a dainty woman would kill just as much as from a warrior. Reaching down, he pulled one of his spare blades from his boot. "Before I show you how to wield a knife, first you must recognise where best to put it."
Eryndes stared at the knife in his hand, "Where to put it in my skirts?"
The corner of his lips lifted, "Where to put it into your assailant."
She swallowed and looked up at him in disbelief.
"Tell me," With the tip of his knife he pointed to his chest, "What is here?"
She opened her mouth but hesitated. "H-heart?"
"Death blow from either front or back," he approved, "however is protected by ribs and difficult for the unschooled to penetrate for the kill. Here?" Legolas tapped down lower.
"Stomach? Intestines?"
"Belly wounds are painful, immobilizing, and may kill your assailant given enough time. Here?" He tapped the inside of his upper thigh.
She shook her head a little, looking for him for the answer. Instead, he trailed the tip of his knife down his leg-
"Artery?"
He nodded encouraging, "Puncture it and your enemy could very well be dead in four minutes."
Returning his knife high up on his thigh, he raised a brow.
Again she hesitated.
"Groin," he supplied, "blade or blow will hurt, damage and may even paralyse your attacker long enough for escape."
"'If' he were male."
He showed his perfect teeth, "Most assailants will be male."
"I had forgotten you knew so much about anatomy."
"Knowledge is power."
She chewed her lip, "I would not care to be so close to use this knowledge."
"Unless you can heft a sword, close is where you must be." He tapped his throat.
"Artery?"
"Anywhere on the neck is a favourable target. Blow or blade will injure, disable or kill however can be difficult to reach, even for a Dúnedain woman. Same with the face, head and eyes; they will gain you time but the damage would need to be significant to kill. Knees, ankles, and elbows may disable but also buy time for escape."
There were words of protest unspoken upon her lips.
"(Speak)."
Her shoulders sagged, "I am a healer. I cannot do as you say . . . maim or. . . kill."
"And if your life, or the life of another depended upon it? If the children were in danger?"
Lowering her eyes, it was a long pause before she muttered, "If you think I must learn . . ."
Her grim acceptance was a victory, but a bitter one. In a perfect world he'd never force even the slightest hint of violence upon her. Gladly he would've kept her far away from the ways of weapons and warfare. "I do," he said consoling, his need to touch her again leading him to take her arm, running his hand down to grasp her wrist. He placed the hilt of the knife in her palm. "Now, pay attention. I will show you both armed and unarmed defense but for now, we shall begin with small blades. There are two ways to hold a knife . . ."
Idly, Eryndes did wonder when Aragorn was going to return. They'd been expected for a week now.
Swiping her sweaty brow, she blew at the loose wisps of hair threatening to stick to her face. She had been cooped up in the healing rooms since late last evening. The harsh unpredictable northern weather finally taken its turn towards winter had also taken a few of the ranger's into fever along with it.
Eryndes and Gueniel relieved two of the other healers just passed midnight and spent a long day in the sweltering heat of the raging fires. The next two healers were due to commence their duty in but a few more minutes.
Wiping again before a bead of sweat rolled into her eye, she carefully poured out her mother's special heated broth into the waiting bowls.
Aragorn really should be back by now. What could be keeping him?
"This is your plan?" Sindar's deep voice came from the door making her smile, "To avoid my teachings you conceal yourself here?"
"I should be so crafty," Eryndes huffed despite the instant lifting of her spirits. "Alas no. The drastic switch in the weather has bought sniffles and fever."
The quickening of her heart told her of his coming behind her in a way her ears could not. Contrary to her words, it had been days now since Sindar insistence in tutoring her and although Eryndes bore little enthusiasm, she didn't lie to herself; she looked forward to that hour each day with a great longing.
Eryndes was quite aware of her greed when it came to Sindar. They shared meals and evening walks, impromptu conversations in the kitchen or in her gardens, but for that hour she shared his attention with no-one. Whether by Sindar's hand or not, none disturbed them. Alone out in the frozen fields, she could imagine they were but the only two people on Earth.
Blades aside, it was more romantic to her than anything she'd known.
"Is the sickness concerning?"
Wiping her brow with the back of her hand again, she continued pouring. "Nay. At least not thus far. 'Tis the same every start to winter's freeze. In a week or so, our bodies shall be sound again."
"Are you also ill?"
His troubled question gave her pause and she looked over her shoulder at him, "I am well." Then she grimaced, remembering how hot and sweaty she was and how disheveled she must look. It was a selfish lament for even at her best, Eryndes could never hold a candle to the beauty of the elven ladies of his homeland. Sweaty or not. "We keep the fires hot in here to drive out the fever."
Sindar didn't look overly convinced and he edged closer to her side and peered down at the table, "I will aid you. The heat does not bother me and I cannot fall ill."
Eryndes bit down hard on her lip to stop smiling, "I can manage and surely you have more important-"
The glance out the corners of his eye stopped her; once Sindar made up his mind . . . It was never smart to refuse him. He was prone to sulking when his good intentions went unappreciated.
It made no sense but her heart glowed for all his 'particular' ways which made up the man . . . the elf she loved.
And love him she did. A flower to the sun could not love as she did.
"Then if you would begin giving out a bowl to each?" she placated with a measured dash of gratitude. When Sindar offered help the heavens must open to lathered praise. With a secret shake of her head, she took a stack of fresh towels from the linen shelves.
With a gasp, Eryndes came back to find Sindar not moved, her eyes widening at the brightly coloured filled vial being held aloft. He was inspecting it with rampant curiosity. "Please do be careful!"
His reflexes were quicker. Raising his arm higher above her reach, he sniggered at her flailing, "When am 'I' not careful? Was it I who dropped a sword on her foot?"
"Master Elf, that is an exceedingly rare oil!" Knowing she couldn't reach, she still tried, sweeping up in vain effort. Darn, when did she forget he was so tall? On her tiptoes she didn't even measure up to his eye-level. Frustrating and at the same time pleasing. Her tastes had always been for men of fine stature.
"Do you not trust me not to drop it?"
His indignance was betrayed by the twitch in his lip and Eryndes couldn't help descending into giggles as she grabbed at his arm and pulling with all her might. He didn't budge. Though slighter in build then the likes of Joust and Úrion, Sindar was incredibly strong.
She could surely climb him like a tree.
A thrill whispered, tingling beneath her belly.
Sindar switched hands, "Should I consider holding it for ransom?"
"Ransom?" she exclaimed, using his shoulders to lever her reach higher.
"Indeed. Would the value be worth the song you refuse to sing to me?"
Flushing, she stopped to glare at him. Why did he have to keep bringing up that shameful song? "You would not!"
His widening smile was evidence enough he would.
"Are you two quite finished?"
Eryndes stepped back away from Sindar at once.
Gueniel stood at the doorway, arms crossed and looking exceedingly irked. "Surely the sick needn't suffer your horseplay." With a taut shake of her head, Gueniel swept into the room and Eryndes was spared having to answer, "Sindar, Úrion has called for you. Your scouts have signalled. Aragorn's party approaches," Gueniel came over and took the tray of broths Sindar had yet to put out with a hard eye at Eryndes, "You may expect them within the hour."
Pressing the vial into her hand, Sindar silently gave a parting glance then took his leave.
"An hour?" Eryndes' heart sank when Sindar wasn't to be seen. One hour? One hour and it would all end. She swallowed against the grief rising in her throat. "If you can remain? I must get cleaned up."
Gueniel waved her away, "Go. But upon your return-"
"You will scold me?" Eryndes put the vial back to its high and secure rack with a deep breath and left the healing rooms for her chambers to wash.
"Not only your foolery below stairs but what's this hear about personal instruction from Sindar?"
Eryndes smoothed out her skirt for the fourth time and muttered, "I was not given much choice."
"Your dress is fine," Gueniel elbowed her, "And are you saying Sindar forced you?"
"Oh no," she straightened her arms at her sides to keep her hands away from her dress. It was an anxious habit of hers, fixing her clothing and checking her hair. Her mother never seemed to be disheveled, no matter the time of day, no matter the disaster. Yet as much Eryndes continually straightened and fixed, she could never achieve Fuieryn's effortless elegance. "No, he just sort of . . . was not going to take no for an answer. He said it is for my own good."
"He's acting as your brother now? Or perhaps your husband?"
"Gueniel," she hushed her friend, looking at the crowd around them. "Have we not done with this discussion?"
"Perhaps it begs reopening."
None of the folk seemed to be listening, thankfully. The last thing Eryndes wanted was for word to spread around about her secretly harbouring an attachment to Sindar. Or more ruinous; Sindar himself learning of it.
Especially now given her momentous decision. A decision that, if there was indeed any good consciousness about her, was the right decision.
After returning with Sindar from their journey to Huaen's farm, that night Eryndes sat up with Gueniel and confessed. Downing a whole pitcher of wine between them, Eryndes confessed it all; the intensity of her attraction upon their first meeting, their following awkwardness, her gradual but strong affinity for him. And how after spending two days in his company riding in the mountains, it had painfully became obvious; her heart bore no reservation when it came to him, immortality and nobility be damned! Her love was long lost.
Sighing heavily, Eryndes leant in closer to Gueniel to whisper, "Sindar is not acting anything. After the encounter with that- that beast, who would blame him desiring me to learn? Unlike Baineth, I'm not batting my eyelashes at him."
"Weren't you doing that an hour ago?"
"Nay. I was . . ." Unashamedly enjoying his company one last time?
Gueniel encircled her waist for a quick squeeze, "It's my job to safeguard your heart. I'm the bucket of water to the flame you hold for him."
"For which I am grateful," Eryndes held the embrace for a moment more then pulled away to re-straighten her skirt. "Time is waning. What could be keeping them?"
Gueniel smacked at her hand, "Your dress is fine and I'm sure the eminent Gell will turn out to be just another oafish ranger."
"Oafish ranger all the folk believe I am destined to marry."
"They thought the same of Joust."
"Aragorn has been hinting at it too," Eryndes rose on her tiptoes to see over the crowd, look passed the main gate to down the road, "for years now. Not lately though. Regardless, if Gell does prove aimable, I have decided to consider our union -"
"Are you drunk?"
Eryndes stood back down to face her friend. "Nay. Why do you-?"
Gueniel's angular features hardened. "Because that's the only way you'd 'ever' consider an arranged marriage to be anything but cowardice."
Eryndes noisily let go of her pent up breath. "My years are passing-"
"You can't be that desperate!"
"Please lower your voice."
"Why? Answer me that! Because of Sindar?"
Tensing her stomach against the great emptiness threatening to engulf her, she whispered, "Because I want to marry. I want marriage, a husband, children of my own. What is gained by pining after a elf-?"
"You also speak of wanting to climb the Blue Mountains! To see the wonders of the world! Did you not swear to your father you'd marry for love?"
Sucking in a deep breath, Eryndes lifted her head resolutely, "The time has come to put away foolish dreams."
Gueniel started to argue-
Eryndes held up her hand, "I have accepted it. Gell comes and so does the future."
Gueniel stood there, mouth wide, shaking her head-
Whatever she might have said remained unknown for a long low bellow filled the afternoon.
The crowd held their collective breath for the answer-
A smaller horn sounded in the distance; distinctive as a voice.
"It's them," Gueniel confirmed, then took her hand, "Don't think we're done talking about this. But now you have an oafish ranger to greet."
"Stay," Eryndes pressed, holding fast to her hand, "You are as good as family-"
"It's not my place, mistress," she shook her head and left, threading her way through the crowd to where her family would be waiting.
Brushing at her hair one last time, she turned about, her eyes scanning for the one who should stand taller than anyone else. But she couldn't see him. Should he not also be at the front? He was just as much in charge of Carthal's rangers as Úrion. But two times scanning for both heights and faces, she couldn't see him.
Perhaps it was for the best he was not there.
"We're all here," Faron's grading voice came from behind her.
"I see we are," she answered briskly, swallowing down the ache in her chest. Faron and the other masters and mistress moved through to the front of the crowd. Úrion came to stand by her side and Joust winked at her then took his place at Úrion's side.
"Sindar?" Eryndes asked Úrion, keeping her voice hopefully low enough so Joust wouldn't hear.
Úrion kept his eyes to the approaching army, "Said he had something more important to attend."
The horses came streaking through the main gate in showy perfection; of soldiers and their horses, full of pride. Aragorn was at the head with another who she guessed was Gell.
When they pulled up in the embarkation loop, Eryndes waited. Aragorn dismounted first, then Gell and all his rangers followed at once.
In his usual disarray, yet still handsome with messy hair and poorly kept cloth, Aragorn swept forward. His arms pulled her into a tight embrace and she returned it just as keenly. "You are late," Eryndes pressed a kiss to his cheek.
Aragorn moved back and tapped her cheek in affection, "Am I not always?"
"Was there trouble?"
"Nothing to be concerned." He nodded to Úrion, Joust, Faron and all the other heads of Carthal, who all bowed in formal greeting. Stepping back, Aragorn allowed the stranger to approach. "Sister. My friends. Allow me to introduce Gell, son of Gallon, commander of rangers."
Gell was indeed handsome as was reputed with bold features tamed by gentle lines. There, too, was a meticulous quality about him, much in the same way as Sindar. He wore young leather and clean cloth absent of fraying or weathering. Even his horses' leather and fastenings were free of the obvious signs of a fifteen day journey.
First Aragorn introduced him to Carthal's own ranger leaders, Úrion and Joust, while Eryndes waited for her turn. Gell was a tall man, perhaps only lacking to both Sindar and Faron. He was strongly set, more akin to the bulk of Úrion and Lobordir than the leaner builds of Sindar and Aragorn. His beard, like his hair was dark as with all Dúnedain, but maintained quite short. The warm tone to his skin told of countless years spent in the harsh elements, but the quirk to his brow promised his temperament had not suffered for it.
He was as handsome as folk praised. For Eryndes though, her grieving heart acknowledged the man's beauty but remained unaffected by it.
In bitterness, she could almost wish the man ugly.
"My sister," Aragorn introduced, "Eryndes of the Dúnedain, Mistress of Carthal."
Bowing her head, Eryndes extended her hand with a due smile, "You are welcome here at Carthal, commander ranger."
The quirk to Gell's brow increased and he took her hand, "As are my rangers, I hope?"
She blinked. "Of course."
The pleasing line to his lips lifted to a most handsome smile, "We are humbled to be welcomed to a place with so much beauty. I am pleased to find the lady of the house is just as her reputation suggested." He lifted her hand, bringing her knuckles up to meet his bent head.
Urged by loyalty to a sweet memory, Eryndes tugged her hand away before he could take the liberty. Gell's answering chuckle was enough to make her respond in kind, "And you, ranger commander, are just as your reputation paints you."
"Which is?" he gazed down upon her smugly.
"A charmer for all women to beware."
His deep throaty laugh was not unpleasant. "An unfair reprobation."
"Oh?"
He leaned down a touch, "A charmer knows his powers only work on the willing."
"Eryndes?" Aragorn nudged his way between them. "Where is Sindar?"
"(I am here)."
Eryndes stepped back from Gell to find Sindar beside her. It was unreasonable to feel guilt. Yet, guilt was what filled her stomach. She wanted to ask where he'd been but held her tongue seeing the stern set to his jawline, his unblinking eyes set to the newcomer commander.
Aragorn chuckled, "Aye, there you are," and embraced his great friend. Sindar stood rigid, barely returning Aragorn's affection with a light tap on his shoulder.
Taking a long breath, Eryndes held to her post, quiet, waiting, the freezing afternoon air growing steadily warmer with Sindar's heady scent. Sublime and earthy, teasing her nose to breath in again, deeply. Savouring.
Gell, nor any man could ever smell so wonderful.
"Gell," Aragorn pulled back from the elf, "I would like you to meet Sindar, lord from Lasgalen and commander of the elven elite."
"(I am honoured to meet you, lord)," Gell raised his hand to touch his shoulder.
Sindar returned the gesture, "(I greet you)."
The stiffness in Sindar's words and manner broke through her daze. Though moody and haughty at times, Sindar was still polite and genteel to his bones. But this was a hair's breadth away from being rude.
An awkward moment hung in the air-
Aragorn discreetly nudged her in signal and she jumped to her duty.
"Shall we retire inside now?" Eryndes put on her friendliest smile, looking to each face in turn and gestured to the manor stairs, "Surely the rangers would appreciate a warm fire and an ale before dinner?"
"They would indeed," Gell answered her, his features returning affable, "My rangers have had a long ride and be glad to partake your hospitality. We've heard much of the brewing of Carthal ale. I should very much like to try-"
"Then we shall retire inside," Sindar said sharply and held out his arm.
Eryndes took his arm without hesitation, her fingers sliding over the silken fabric to discreetly explore the contours of his bicep.
Keeping her hostesses smile, she waved the group onwards while Sindar moved them past. She spied surprise in Aragorn but he didn't object. "Is something wrong?" she whispered leaning in closer to him as he lead her up the stairs to the inside.
"Of course not."
Eryndes gazed up at him as he lead her through the long hallway, "I thought elves didn't lie?"
His eyes shot to hers but she held her ground. Well accustomed to his ways, Sindar's moods no longer intimidated her as they once did.
"It was not a lie," the faintest smile touched his eyes, "There is nothing wrong. Now."
"Something was wrong though," she ventured quietly, "You did not find Gell amiable?"
"It is wise never to base an opinion upon first impressions."
Eryndes stared up at him.
"Bite your tongue, Eryndes."
She grinned, "Where's your wisdom now?"
"Abandoned me long ago."
"Gell and his rangers are here to help us."
"I am aware."
Carefully she glanced back at Aragorn, Gell and the heads of Carthal formally following them into the great hall but still kept her voice low, "Perhaps on closer acquaintance you will come to friendship with Gell. He is said to be a good man. Even Aragorn favours him."
For a heartbeat she believed Sindar stiffened. "In time we shall see for ourselves why."
While the newcomer rangers were welcomed with full mugs of ale and the cheery hospitality of the fire warmed great hall and appreciative folk of Carthal, Aragorn lead Úrion up the three flights of stairs. Legolas' cold welcome was out of character, even for the haughty prince.
"Should we not wait for Sindar?"
"I wanted a quiet word first."
Úrion nodded easily, "You are wondering at the battle preparation we've been making. The forests in the east grow quieter each day and there have been sightings of creatures previously unseen in the north, possibly driven this way. Our scouting parties search exhaustively but the enemy remains at large. Sindar and I agreed to concentrate of preparedness in light-"
"Tell me of Eryndes."
Úrion took a moment. "In what manner?"
"I am not blind, my friend. I saw just as you did. Tell me of Sindar and Eryndes."
Úrion put his large hands on his waist, "If you suspect dishonour then you should confront him, not come seeking me to betray-"
"I don't suspect dishonour," Aragorn cut him off, then eased the words with care, "At least, I would refuse to believe he would lie with her without due oaths of marriage."
Úrion maintained his rigidity. "Aragorn. This is a matter to be taken up with Sindar. I will not answer for him."
Aragorn held his palm up, "He is the very next person I intend to speak. What I demand of you is an account of their . . . dealings."
Úrion eyed him and answered slowly, "They spend much of their liberty together."
Stewing on that a moment, he decided asking 'doing what' was likely to bring Úrion even more to the defensive. "Do the people suspect any . . . attachment between them?"
"Some folk think it fortunate he's an elf; a perfect friend and chaperon. Other folk say it's a pity; they'd make a fine match."
Either would bode well for Legolas if his sister ever shared in his affection.
The big man shrugged, "Then there are those who'd think the suggestion an outrage, for Carthal to be mastered by an elf?"
"I care to know your thoughts, my friend."
Úrion ran a hand over his face, struggling. "They are close. Were he a man . . . ? Whether I think it's love or simply strong friendship on her part, or his, I wouldn't discredit either of them by venturing an uninformed opinion."
Aragorn hesitated, "Do you think it wise? An elf and a mortal?"
"If it were love then what does it matter what I think?"
"You're as unflappable as ever," he smiled briefly, before letting it drop and getting to the core of the issue. "Word has reached my ear of a confrontation. A creature from the east. That through Sindar's negligence, my sister was moments away from terrible harm."
If the man was surprised, he didn't show it, "I don't believe that's quite accurate. They went to Huaen's farm. The northern woods were thought safe-"
"Obviously such thought was wrong-"
"He killed the creature," Úrion counted.
"And if there happened to be two creatures?" he shook his head, "I am concerned Sindar's judgement may no longer be relied upon where Eryndes is concerned."
Silence held the air and fortunate as the elf in question came striding through the doorway across the way into the long empty war-room.
Úrion closed his eyes, then said very quietly, "He is our ally, our friend. Do not be too hard, for if it is love who can claim sound judgement?"
Aragorn didn't answer and Úrion exited the small office, "I should go see Gell and his rangers are settling in." He gave Sindar a nod as they passed.
Legolas gave no indication he'd heard any of their conversation. "We must speak."
Aragorn waited for Legolas to take the seat before re-taking his. "Aye, we must."
"I think the time has come for me to return to my father."
Of all the things Legolas may have said . . . Aragorn stammered, "Y-you wish to leave us?"
"If you will not seek out my father's aid, then I must," Legolas said, a seldomly seem vulnerability creeping to his face, "I confess fear taunts me. One which will only build unless I take action."
Aragorn put aside his grievances and asked, "What is this fear?" Truly, Legolas had always spoken of fears, of darkness. One with sights and instincts as sensitive and magical as his probably saw each and every evil on Earth.
Legolas' gaze slipped down from his, "That if left too long, there will not be any Dúnedain to aid on the return journey."
Aragorn lounged back and measured his tone, "What has happened to create this fear?"
Legolas slowly frowned, "There is not one thing but many. Something breathes in the shadows, perhaps Angmar and the army I saw there may invade? I do not know. What I feel though; lurking at the corner of my mind, my sight, I can feel it," Legolas' gaze drifted further away. "At light's edge. Dust upon the wind. Malice without shape. A whisper," he lifted his head and affixed his stare, "of doom."
He met his stare. "Here?" With Angmar, Mordor and all other evil staining the world, Legolas' vague 'feeling' could not always be relied upon to be near.
Again the elf's eyes glazed, "It has been for months, pressing down upon my mind. Approaching . . ."
Aragorn could wait no longer, "And yet you deemed this darkness worth so little concern you lead my kin into the wilderness!"
Legolas' eyes snapped back to him but he didn't speak.
"You don't deny it?"
"I do not."
Aragorn gestured to him, "Were you planning to tell me?"
"Indeed. The northwestern mountains are no longer safe. Foul beasts and orcs have now infested-"
"You lead her to danger?" Legolas' refusal to react only made Aragorn madder.
"There was to be no danger-"
"You swore her life safe in your keeping, upon your death!"
"My life I would have given," Legolas said factually, "had it been necessary."
"How do claim to care for her and not see your own ill-judgement?"
"My judgement was in error. Do not make the assumption my vanity leaves me ignorant. If you wish to extract your revenge, I am prepared-" he started to stand.
"(Stop)," Aragorn held up his hand. "(Sit down, Legolas)." Aragorn watched him return his study, then gracefully retake his seat. "Have you her consent? Are you courting?"
"(Not yet)."
Aragorn let out a weary sigh, "Yet many of the Dúnedain have begun to wonder."
"Your peoples' gossip does not concern me."
Closing his eyes, Aragorn rubbed his forehead and fought for patience. "You made a mistake."
"Not even my father is infallible."
He opened his eyes to stare at his unmoving brother. He was being distant, haughty; but at the core Legolas was humbled. Perhaps it would not take more than one hand to count the number of times in Legolas' three thousand years that had happened. A good thing? Aragorn didn't pretend to know the answer. "Very well. I don't seek vengeance and nor withdraw my blessing. However I beg you be more cautious. You and her are the only family I have."
Legolas eyed him but then accepted his warning with a slight incline of his head.
"Good," he worked to loosen his tense shoulders, "Then the matter is settled. Let us move forward. Please speak of our situation. I see Carthal is beginning to look like the fortress of old."
After supper that night, Legolas stole away upstairs to be away from all the excited talk. With the addition of Gell's rangers mixing with talk of war and the excitement surrounding Baradon's wedding, he could help but long for a moment's peace.
He'd even gone so far as to make his excuses to Baineth, who increasingly sought his company of late. Her guise 'to practice Sindarin' was not at all believable. He'd been the recipient of many unwelcome overtures in his years not to recognise what was at the heart of her interest. While Legolas did find her polite and amusing, experience taught him to give no further encouragement.
That night though, Legolas was not in the mood for Baineth. Nor his other friends. Quietly he departed the great hall, stealthy enough for none to notice and stop him.
With the stars veiled by an early winter's storm, and not in the least feeling the need to sleep, Legolas made his silent way to the library snuggly hidden away in the halls of the third floor. It was not often Legolas was ever found seeking to read books, however given his need of solace, there remained few places of choice with the grounds now overflowing with folk.
Smugly heralded as the largest in the north, by the Carthal Dúnedain of course, it paled greatly to the vastness of Thranduil's library. Regardless, it was quiet save for the soft cracking of the fire.
Taking a leather bound book on the advantages of symbiotic plantings and soil cultivation, he eased his long frame into a comfortable wing chair near the fire. Although his kind needed neither the light or warmth, it was cozy and elves did enjoy their comforts.
Legolas threatened many times through the passing of the hours to get up and exchange the book. The book was thorough and the illustrations detailed, but farming just wasn't in his blood. Yet, just as he'd done as an elfling, he kept on reading. Such was the expected discipline of the son of Thranduil.
The night edged closer to morning and he came close to finishing. He would be glad to finally be free to choose another book-
A quiet disturbance outside the door caught his ear.
It sounded like hushed whispers. Giggles.
Eyes narrowing sharply, Legolas shot to his feet and opened the door on the couple.
As expected he found them, Gell and Eryndes, but just not as his snap of furious jealousy imagined. Eryndes stood surprised at the door to the library, and Gell departing, almost to the door of his assigned quarters.
"Oh, Master Elf," Eryndes breathed, "You frightened me."
"Is there a problem, lord?"
Legolas ignored the man. "You are up late."
She laughed abashed, "Too much ale an' cannot sleep. I was coming for a book." As the anger receded from his eyes, he could indeed see the pink glow on her cheeks and slow focus of her eyes which may have come from drinking ale.
"You needn't look so suspicious," Gell announced indignantly, now standing before his door, "the lady's quite safe with me."
Legolas stepped into the corridor to allow Eryndes to pass while keeping Gell in his sights.
"You were reading?" Eryndes took his arm and urged him to follow, "I did not believe you even knew we had a library."
Releasing his fists, Legolas relented and followed her back into the library. He made sure the door was well closed.
"You really should not be so rude to Gell."
Spoken with clarity unexpected of someone in her . . . state was surprising and he keenly studied her again. Had she been pretending? But no, her eyes were still slower than normal.
"If you truly have not met him before today then I must suppose you have little reason."
He took her reproach without too much resentment. He had a reason. "I apologise."
She snorted and moved further into the room, "It is not to me you should apologise."
Keeping within a step of her, he didn't answer. She peroused the titles in the shelf and gave him no more attention.
Finally, he'd had enough. "Will you cease ignoring me if I apologise to Gell now?"
She looked over her shoulder at him, "Ignoring you? I am looking for a book."
"There are many."
"A 'particular' book. Your mood is ill this evening."
Turning away, he returned to the wing chair and took up the book. He would like to leave it unfinished, but- "Perhaps that is so."
"What are you reading?"
He showed her the title page and wasn't surprised by her attempt not to laugh.
"Are you considering broadening your occupation into farming?"
"Nay," he growled, "I simply pulled this one at random."
Eryndes went back to the shelves. "I can choose one a little more entertaining if you like?"
"More than soil aeration and worms? Aye, please." Even so, he kept the book and his place with a finger. "You have quite a number of books," he commented, trying to ease into conversation and forsake his foul mood. "I had no idea you were fond of reading."
"Hardly fond if the attempt is to fall asleep," Her fingers ran over the spines, "These were my father's and his father's and so forth. Though I must confess to reading each no less than two dozen times."
"I would suggest acquiring more before they fall to pieces." Many were indeed becoming tatty.
"Trade for literature is rare in the north, and expensive," her skimming her hand stopped, finding the book. Pulling it out from the shelf, she handed it to him. "Our funds are limited to keeping us alive, not well read. Does King Thranduil have a grand library?"
He chuckled taking the book, "Would you like to relieve him of some of his collection?"
Her eyes lit up as she returned his mirth, "Well, my father's collection is a little limited even if only for falling asleep."
"My lord's library is indeed grand, encompassing the size of one of Carthal's wings."
"I cannot imagine. Does he read them all?"
Legolas gazed happily into the pools of her eyes, "Once at the very least."
"Have you?"
He snorted, "As I have said before I was required to undergo strict, extensive study during my formative years. I loathed every moment, in silence mind, not wishing to disappoint my father. When he did discover my hatred of study it became his punishment of choice."
"He made you study as penitence?"
"You might say that. I was often required to read the entirety of the library, several times through."
The awe fell from her face, "How long did it take to read the entire library?"
"A few years. Towards the latter stages of my youth, I was simply ordered to report to the library whenever I had done something to his displeasure. It proved a greater discouragement than any other form of punishment. Yes?" he inquired when she hesitated.
"Will you tell me of your father? What was he like? He sounds to be quite the tyrant."
Legolas smiled, "My father lives."
Eryndes frowned, "I am sorry. I do not know why I thought otherwise."
"My father and I have a . . challenging relationship at times; we do not often agree."
"I am sorry to pry."
He waved away her apology, "There is no need. I do not speak of him often but he is well kept in my thoughts and in my heart. You should not think him a tyrant; I was not an obedient elfling."
"I find it difficult to believe," she fiddled absentmindedly with a lock of her hair, "You keep saying you were a terror-"
"In this you may trust; I was."
She grinned broadly, "I think you would have been an adorable child- I mean, elfling."
His eyes drifted down to the book in his hand, a book of poetry, quite suddenly forgetting how to breathe. "This is your choice for me?" he prayed his voice didn't sound as croaky to her as it did to him.
"You have read it?"
Legolas shrugged, keeping his eyes on the pages as he flicked through, "When first I came to Carthal but there is no harm rereading. My impression may have changed since." He paused, "What book were you seeking?"
"Oh," she said lamely, "Nothing of great interest. It is a book about medicinal kneading."
"'Kneading'?" he choked, "What possible good would that do?"
"I will show you," she continued looking and once found, pulled the book from the shelf. "I see," he said, staring intently at the book to hide his embarrassment, "My mind conjured benches of wounded warriors, kneading bread for their health."
Eryndes laughed good naturedly, "No, no, kneading into muscle."
He crossed his arms over his chest, "How is that to help?"
"Sometimes the body needs aid. Here," she pointed to an illustration in the book. "Understanding the different muscles and how to loosen them can aid in recovery."
The illustration was of an arm, but with no skin and what looked like cloth wrapped around the bone. He looked at her skeptically.
"Have you never had a sore muscle and dug your fingers in to ease the pain?"
"No."
"Never suffered from a badly damaged muscle?"
"No." She looked almost annoyed now so he admitted, "Once. I fell from a large tree and grabbed a passing branch to stop my fall."
"It is all elves or just you who are not fond of admitting injuries or illness?"
His brow rose, "What woodland elf wishes to admit he fell from a tree?"
"Depends on why he fell."
He did not answer nor did he wish to, for that was a long story; a long, embarrassing story.
"Did not the healers tend to your arm?"
"Not for days," he said simply. "I was far from help." He sighed at her expectant face, "I splinted the break and trudged towards home. One of the search parties eventually found me and I spent a week in the healing wing. My father was merciful enough to wait my recovery before unleashing his wrath. He hated punishing me. To his way of thinking I should never have needed punishing, that I should have known better. Wisdom is in my heritage, my blood."
Eryndes sniggered softly, "What youngster possesses an abundance of wisdom? Is it not the point of childhood? To err and learn?"
He took the book from her, "Show me."
"Show you what?"
"Medical kneading."
Her lips separated, "You are not injured."
"I must be injured for you to demonstrate?" Her hesitation irritated his already tender mood, "Nevermind." He held out the book to her.
Instead of taking the book, she reached out and placed her hand on his upper arm. "This particular muscle?" she ran her fingers down his arm, "that is this one in the diagram, here," she pointed to the arm illustration. "When it contracts, the arm is lifted," she lifted his elbow with her other hand. She ran her fingers down the inside of his upper arm, "this one bring up your forearm. Like this," she took his wrist and raised it to his shoulder. "When the muscle is injured, it needs to be worked, loosen the restriction and allow blood to flow once more aiding repair," she took a hold of his upper with both hands and ran her thumbs up from his elbow to his shoulder.
"Am I supposed to feel healing?" he asked dubiously.
She breathed out noisily, "Well it is difficult to work through cloth, especially one made of slippery spun oil."
"Silk," he corrected, pulling at the lacings around the right cuff and rolled the sleeve up his arm.
Again she hesitated but only for a moment. She took his arm then smiled.
"Yes?" he asked.
The colour of her cheeks shifted, her fingers grazing gently over his forearm, lifting up some of the fine blonde hairs, "I have never seen blonde arm hair."
That made him scoff, "Suddenly I question your healing credibility."
Her answering glare turned his scoff into a laugh.
"I have seen folk with fair hair but you are the only one I have ever treated."
"Pouring tea is not what I consider treatment."
In answer she took a firm grasp his shoulder and run her fingers against the ridges of his muscles, "This one lifts the arm, this lifts the forearm."
"Yes, I understood the first time." He grinned at her grumble.
Using the heel of one hand she began kneading, gentle at first, gradually working in deeper, hard into the inside muscle, then dug in with her fingers harder, moving up his arm, again and again, every time her fingers getting in deeper.
The concentration on her face was fetching and the small bite on her lip held his attention to her lips. Were they even softer than he imagined her skin to be? "And this would help heal injury?"
She didn't look up from her work, "Were your arm sore this would feel wonderful."
Mesmerized beyond hope by his siren, he traced the line of her lips with his eyes, "I did not say it was not wonderful."
Her eyes shot to his, her face completely flushed red. Pulling down his sleeve, she gathered her book and stepped away, "I believe you have a better understanding now."
He had not expected her to jump away from him as she had. "Indeed." he pulled at his cuff lacings with growing frustration. For weeks now he'd lightly prodded, hoping for a glimpse of her regard for him. Just when he thought the moment was right . . . He finished tying the lacing on his sleeve, "It is very late." Not waiting, he walked towards the door. "Good evening."
"Wait," she called after him, "What about the book?"
The bitter resentment festered on his tongue, "Never mind, I doubt I can afford the time."
"Wait, Sindar."
Paused with his hand on the door knob, his fingers tightening vice-like, "Did I not ask you never to call me that."
"Master Elf," she said from beside him holding out the book with uncertainty on her face. She was confused. "If you do find the time."
Giving in he took the book, "Thank you."
"I am sorry if I . . ."
"Yes?" he prompted with very little civility.
"For keeping you up so late," she said at last. "Good night."
'Legolas!'
Legolas dropped his book on the bed, his eyes instantly searching. Yet . . . there was nothing. The air was warm and bickered with sounds from the fire, outside the wind howled against his shutters.
But nothing more. His senses had not failed him. There was no one in his chamber.
'Legolas!'
The voice, feminine, called again, soft but insistent. He might've asked who was there, but his unparalleled sight and hearing told him he was alone. Sliding down from the large plush bed, he didn't bother to pull on his boots. Silently he padded barefoot on the threadbare rugs covering the smooth wood floor towards the direction of the voice.
'Legolas.'
Senses on high alert, Legolas scanned the corners, along the walls and behind blanket chest. This time the call was louder and not so urgent. And if he were not mistaken he knew the voice.
He shifted carefully to glance around the privy-screen to search the bathing alcove.
That is where he found her.
His breath froze in his chest. Onyx hair shimmered in the flickering firelight, loose and unkempt, sweeping down the length of her back, playing against the tantalizing curve of her waist. Her night-shift, pale and weathered, hung draped from her shoulders, ribbon loose, the slinky material toying around the ample shape of her breasts and taught over the distinct flare of her hips.
Her lips slowly spread into a salacious smile, "Legolas."
"Eryndes?" he croaked, working moisture back into his mouth.
She put a finger to her lips, "Shh." Her smile grew, her vivid blue eyes slanting down over him. Her fingers trailed down, moving ever so slowly, trailing down the length of her neck, grazing lazily down passed her collarbone to stop between her breasts. Her fingers tangled teasingly at the loose ribbon, easing apart the fabric holding back her bountiful flesh. "Come, Legolas. I have a secret to share."
Breath froze in his lungs. Warmth- no, fever, smothered him. He begged his body to remain still, begging to the valar his . . . reaction wasn't as visible as it felt. "Eryndes, w-what are you doing here?" He winced at the weakness in his voice.
Surely he should yell at her, force her to leave. Surely she wasn't suggesting, inviting him? Not this way.
Her smile didn't waver, neither did her teasing of the ribbon. He swallowed hard making out the small circles shadowing through the revealing cloth.
If she were to ask him to approach her again-
"You must leave." He raised his chin, holding desperately to his honour. He loved her, Eru have mercy desired her but this-this was . . . wrong. He fisted his hands tightly to stop the tingling, the ache to know the touch of her skin. "You think I would dishonour you this way?"
Eryndes continued to smile. The eeriness of it jolted him from his stupor. Not only was this wrong but improbable. Eryndes would not do this. Even if she harboured any of the same desires for him, she would never sneak into his chambers for a clandestine tryst.
Breathing in deeply, Legolas squared his shoulders. "This is not you. You are not truly here." Taking a better look at her, he could now acknowledge the wooden bathtub could clearly been seen 'through' her.
"Who are you?" he demanded. Focusing, he concentrated on her, on the shift of air, the vibrations of all the objects in the room. The image of Eryndes flickered.
Legolas smirked. "I see through your illusion, spellcaster. Who are you? What is your purpose? Why have you come before me?"
"Legolas," she giggled, unnervingly, and a shiver ghosted up his spine. "They are coming. We will all die."
The vision of Eryndes vanished.