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*** Note I – A big thank you to those favoring, following and reviewing my fanfic, it really lifts my spirits~! You people are awesome~! :D ***
*** Note II – Disclaimer: I obviously do not own the too-awesome-for-words Tolkien Universe. I own my ever-growing long list of OCs~ :3 ***
*** Note III – I forgot to mention this before, but the cover image used is from DeviantART. I completely forgot the artist's account name, but from what I can remember, he/she has a whole lovely crap load of amazing artwork~ (~*O*)~ ***
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~ 004 - Improving Relationships ~
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"Each of us is a book waiting to be written; and that book, if written, results in a person explained."
~ Thomas M. Cirignano
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Eyelashes fluttered open, along with an awareness of a small headache and the healing pain of a long cut from behind her ear to her upper back. Her cheek, where she was cut, had a weird itchy feeling; and her neck hurt, especially her throat. There were the fading scars from the late assassin's fingernails.
Lyrial sat up to find herself in what looks to be a healing ward. Only a nicer-looking "hospital" room – compared to a modern 2014 room – with that lovely, elegant and slender elven architecture.
"Ah, you are awake," a somewhat familiar voice stated. She jumped and snapped her head to the left, and found herself face to face with a sniggering Arayan, who sat atop a cushioned chair by her temporary bed. She had met him twice upon her imprisonment, and found him to be a charming ellon. Like Aeluin, she thought him mischievous, whimsical, and a bit of a flirt, only not as flirtatious as the prince. Unlike his twin in all but flesh and blood, the Greenwood captain had a calmer demeanor, and his maturity was more often displayed.
"Why do elves do that?!"
"Ha-ha, do what?" Arayan smiled as mischief danced in his eyes.
Lyrial mock-glared at the captain. "Appear out of nowhere! You people are so quite."
"We're elves; we do that."
To which Lyrial couldn't help but laugh and shake her head. I don't think I'll ever get used to that. . .
Arayan placed a gentle, calloused hand to her shoulder; and she returned her gaze to the attractive elf. "How do you feel?"
"Fine, I guess, thank you for asking. It doesn't hurt as much –"
"I do not mean physically."
Lyrial looked down and turned her head away. The incident had brought up some unsavory memories of some violent abuse regarding her previous life. She was scared and Arayan knew it. "I don't know. I am uneasy; I don't want to die again!"
His eyes widened and he removed his hand from her shoulder. Lyrial cursed inwardly. She previously said that she ended up in this world after she was knocked out, and not by the truth: Her murder.
"'Die again?' You mean –?" Arayan did not know what to think. He noticed her bottom lip trembling, and her eyes became glossy. He placed a warm hand upon her smaller one, which happened to be gripping at the white sheets. She looked at him again with saddened eyes, and felt relief as he spoke again: "I will not say anything to anyone."
"I'm sorry," Lyrial said weakly, almost in a whisper. She turned her head downwards again.
"You do not need to be," Arayan responded as he released her hand and folded his finely muscled arms loosely below his chest. "But you cannot hide your feelings, or those you wish to be a secret, forever."
"I know. I just . . . Can't tell anyone now."
"And that is alright. Take your time!" Arayan stood up and gave her a small smile. "But don't take forever; else you will snap."
And she knew that would happen. Keeping things bottled up was not entirely healthy. She looked up and returned his small smile with her own. "Thank you."
"No worries. Na lû!" And with that, the young captain strolled out of the room.
A beautiful older elleth stepped into the room with a silent grace as soon as Arayan left; and Lyrial was glad, for she began to feel an increasing pain from her wounds. The elleth, a healer, held a cup in her slender hands. She had hip-length platinum blonde hair that came out in loose ringlets, which in a way, shined a little golden. It was pulled back from the healer's face by intricate braids; something Lyrial noticed that all, or almost all, elves had.
"How long were you awake? And how is the pain?" The elleth inquired, and Lyrial thought her voice musical, soft and light.
She snapped out of her thoughts. "Ehhh . . . Twenty minutes, I believe . . . My wounds sting a lot."
"Take this." The healer sat on the edge of the bed and held out a cup of liquid resembling tea. "It is to relieve the pain – you will feel the aftereffects in about ten minutes."
She thanked the older elleth, took the cup, and slowly drank its contents. Hmmm . . . It tastes like . . . Honey?
"I didn't know your pain relievers tasted like honey," Lyrial wondered aloud as the healer transferred the now-empty cup to a small table beside the bed.
"They don't," the older elleth said with a small and devious smirk. "I was just being nice."
"Then what does it actually taste like?" Lyrial gulped, almost fearing the answer.
"Horse shit."
The younger elleth couldn't help but laugh a little. "Daaamn."
She let her eyes wonder about her surroundings as the healer made to remove, then replace, Lyrial's bandaging. Glancing again at the healer's face, the younger elleth noticed that the older elleth resembled the female version to another certain elf. And then a quick glance to a pair of violet eyes clarified her assumptions. Lyrial spoke aloud after the healer finished the re-bandaging. "Is Captain Siraphin your brother?"
"Elder brother," the healer clarified. She stood, took a few steps to the waste basket, and dropped in the dirty, bloody bandages. "Is it that obvious?"
"Your eyes are a big give away. Not many people have purple eyes."
"Hm, very true. And how do you feel now?"
"Better. Thank you for attending to me . . . ?"
"Siriel," the healer replied with her name and a small smile, "You may call me 'Siriel.' And you are very welcome."
"Oh, and do you know what happened to the assassin?"
"The Elvenking dispatched him. From what I remember, he threw his long dagger from a considerable distance and it lodged itself into the mortal's skull." Siriel then proceeded to mumble something about 'reckless ellon,' 'throwing something sharp from a distance could kill anyone,' and 'idiot.'
The corners of Lyrial's mouth tugged upward. Huh . . . A life for a life.
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Two days later and her wounds were fully healed. They weren't that deep anyways; and elves healed a lot faster than humans. Although, her neck had a few light bruises.
Thranéal stopped by when Lyrial was discharged; and seeing as the young elleth would lose herself along the way to her chambers, the Sinda princess offered to escort her there. She then bided Lyrial a temporary farewell, mentioning something about Thranduil needing her assistance with boring stuff.
Now in her room – and quickly noticing a full body mirror – Lyrial walked towards it. She knew her ears, height, hair and senses changed, and she so she was curious to know what else. She gave a light gasp at her reflection. She was actually . . . Pretty. Not that she was ugly before; as a human she was decently attractive. But now she was a looker; albeit not to the same level of stunning as Thranéal or Siriel, or even some of the other random ellith she had happened to pass by. Any remnants of past acne were completely gone; and the two beauty marks she had – one on her left cheek and the other at the corner of her mouth – also disappeared.
And then she caught sight of something along her chest behind her freshly-washed nightgown. She de-laced the nightwear and pulled the fabric over her head; deciding that she would change into actual clothing after this. After pretty much dropping the nightgown on her bed, Lyrial strode back to the mirror in only her birthday suit.
Catching sight of a scar, a permanent scar, on her chest above her heart, the elleth traced it slowly, confused. She then caught sight of another permanent scar along her upper abdomen. And then she was no longer confused as she recalled how she got them.
"If I can't have you, then nobody can!"
She gritted her teeth and scoffed, and swiftly turned away from her reflection with tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She sniffled and wiped the wetness away. No, not now, not now. . .
Thankfully her mind won over her body, and the internal desire to cry subsided. The elleth wanted to explore a bit, actually. She did not entirely care if she ended up getting lost, she just wanted to walk around.
And so after changing into a simple yet lovely fabricated dress of white and forest green, Lyrial exited her room and wandered along the intricate hallways.
A few curious elves would make glances at her as she strolled by with her head whipping around. These elves knew that she was the "new girl," and yet, they felt as though they have seen her before. As in, years before.
She heard a male voice calling her name from behind, and so she turned around. "Cierdan!" she exclaimed happily as she came face-to-face with the attractive smiling young ellon.
"Mellon nîn, how do you fare?" the ellon asked, noticing the fading bruises on her neck.
"Better than a few days ago, thanks. What brings you out here?"
"Good; well, I'm more than glad to see you safe. I was on my way to the archery range."
Lyrial's eyes sparkled with interest. "May I join you? I'm kind of bored just wondering aimlessly alone."
The ellon nodded. "Of course!" He offered her his arm in a gentlemanly fashion, to which Lyrial accepted. They walked.
"Your eyes sparkled when I mentioned 'archery.' Can you shoot?" Cierdan inquired.
"I've practiced when I was younger," Lyrial replied. "Why I've stopped, I have no idea. But I am interested in relearning."
"Then it would be a pleasure to offer my assistance."
"Thank you!" Lyrial was tempted to hug the tall elf; but she refrained from doing so, as she did not want to draw any large attentions. "By the way, where is your twin? You two are usually together."
"I know not," the raven-haired ellon replied, and then gave a quite chuckle. "Which is strange to me considering that I always know where he is and vice-versa."
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Cierdan and Lyrial came to a quieter part of the archery range, as the majority of it was taken up by Captain Arayan and his recruits, a few targets away from theirs. They had both noticed Ciertan assisting Arayan with his instructions.
The older twin handed her a borrowed training bow and one of his arrows, to which she politely received. "Shoot with the knowledge you remember. And then we will take it from there."
Lyrial searched her memory and stood directly in front of the target, but sideways. She lifted the bow and notched Cierdan's arrow to the string; and she stood in that position, focusing on the aim. She released her hold of the arrow after a minute or two. The arrow flew and pierced the very, very edge of the target.
"At least you can shoot and hit the desired target of choice," came a voice to the side. "But practice will definitely suit your aim."
Lyrial turned and saw a certain platinum, technically white, haired ellon. Ciertan regarded her with a neutral expression, while Cierdan smiled softy at his younger twin's slightly better attitude towards this elleth. He's not glaring at me? Or scoffing? Or insulting me? And how did he get over here so quietly?
Lyrial's brows furrowed. "Thank you, I guess. Um . . . I think this is the first time that you're not rude to me. . ."
Ciertan rose an eyebrow, and was so very tempted to smirk. "Would you rather I continue being disrespectful towards you?"
"No! I –"
"Ciertan!"
The younger twin turned around to the voice of Arayan. The captain continued. "Apologies for dismissing you so early. I think I may need your assistance for a little more!"
"No worries, Captain!" Ciertan called back and strode towards the emerald-eyed elf and the soldiers-in-training.
Cierdan's voice directed her attention back to himself. "My twin was amused. He did not mean to make you feel that way."
Lyrial felt dumb, as she one hundred percent assumed the younger twin was serious. "Oh. But really, why is he nice to me all of a sudden?"
Cierdan smiled. "He confessed to me that he actually was interested in the information you told me of your world. And that he regretted treating you the way he previously did. And just to clarify, I never said what I had just said."
Lyrial's mood lightened up, and she laughed. "I'm assuming if I say anything, he'll come straight to you?"
"Yes. And I do not want my neck snapped, thank you very much. Now, let me help you with your positioning and aiming. . ."
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A cool breeze flapped about her hair as she stepped into the private gardens. Lyrial did not know that, but she had assumed so since the gardens seemed more secluded and quite. The skirts of her off-the-shoulder, light lavender dress fumbled a bit with the wind. She quite loved that simple-yet-lovely dress, as it matched her eyes.
Originally she was lost – a week was not enough to for her to memorize where everything was; but, she wanted to explore a bit. The elleth stood before a few lilac-coloured hyacinths. She squatted before the flowers, flat on her feet and her knees to her chin with her arms wrapped around them.
"Suil, Lyrial."
The familiar light but deep voice startled her as she snapped her head towards an ellon she had not seen in a week. And to be quite honest to herself, Lyrial, in a way, missed glancing at Thranduil's perfect face. She quickly stood and turned fully towards the Elvenking. "Gi suilon, Aran nîn," she politely responded, picking up on some of the limited Sindarin she had learned. "Forgive me for intruding; I didn't know you were here. I'll just . . . Go." She hastily turned and took a few steps away.
"Wait."
Lyrial slowly turned with a somewhat confused expression. She noticed that the elf showed no signs of irritation; and although he did not smile, he regarded her with a friendly expression. He sat on a cushioned chair by the walls of the garden, atop paved stones. Before him was a small, almost medium-sized table, which held some of his paperwork to his side. In front of him was what Lyrial noticed to be a sketchbook and some graphite in a dark green wood-case; similar to a modern pencil.
Thranduil continued. "I want to talk to you. Please sit." And he gestured to a cushioned chair directly across from him at the table. The elleth moved towards the table and hesitantly sat on the chair. She made herself comfortable, and her hands rested on her lap. She slowly looked up and met her eyes with his ethereal icy sapphire ones. Why does he keep looking at me? I'm not even worth that attention! He does have lovely eyes, though. . .
The ellon sighed softly. "I want to apologize for last week. You were almost killed for involving yourself in something that was meant for me. And . . . I am so very sorry for the week before that. I mocked you, berated you, harshly grabbed you; and as you have said to me, spoke shit about you. I ordered your imprisonment and kept you there for nine days. Lyrial, you did not deserve any of that." He broke eye contact and focused his gaze diagonally to his left, towards some flowers.
She was touched that he would actually apologize; as the Elvenking was someone who almost never apologized for anything. She took a shaky breath, not entirely knowing why she felt nervous all of a sudden. "Aran nîn, I have already forgiven you; about the fourth day after you ordered my imprisonment."
Thranduil kept his eyes to the scenery, but he furrowed a brow in puzzlement. "Why so quickly?"
"I'm sure you were aware of the visits your siblings made to me during my imprisonment?"
"I was."
"I had asked your sister and she flat-out told me of your justifications for doing so. Yes, I hated my situation, but your reasons were fairly acceptable. It is all fine."
"I was foolish! How could it be fine?"
"You were cautious!" Lyrial was taken aback. Did he regret it that much? She noticed Thranduil's right arm sprawled across the table; and without hesitation, she covered his hand with her smaller one. I probably shouldn't be doing this, but I don't care!
When the ellon felt her warm hand upon his, he returned his gaze to her eyes. She continued softly. "It's fine because I am fine. Like I said: I've already forgiven you and I completely understand your reasoning."
"Then I am glad." Thranduil looked at her hand atop his. The elleth followed his gaze and blushed very lightly as she retreated her hand to rejoin the other one resting on her lap.
Lyrial squeaked bashfully, "I'm sorry!"
Thranduil chuckled a bit. "It's quite alright. It actually felt rather . . . Nice. . ." And he flashed her a friendly smile. Lyrial had to blink back a few times, as this was the first time she witnessed a smile coming from him and directed at her. Damn . . . He's even more stunning when he's all smiley and friendly.
To prevent herself from blushing some more and staring like an idiot, Lyrial averted her eyes to the Elvenking's opened sketchbook. She was intrigued by it. "Oh! I didn't know you drew?"
His eyes flickered from the elleth to his drawing. "Yes, it's a favorite hobby of mine. And it acts as something to relieve boredom."
"What about that?" Lyrial gestured to his small stack of paperwork.
"Ah, those can wait another hour or so."
Procrastinator! Lyrial held back a giggle and drifted her eyes back to his sketchbook. "May I see that? That is, if you don't mind?"
Thranduil flipped his sketchbook around so that the drawing was upside-down to him, and he handed it to the curious elleth. Lyrial received it with both hands, and she gave a light gasp at how realistic and detailed the drawing was. It was of a flowery meadow. There were two young twin female foals prancing about in the foreground; and the mid-ground consisted of a colt sprawled about on his back. Two adult horses stood in the background: The stallion seemed to be observing his offspring, and so did the mare; only she had a bird perched on her head, in between her ears.
"I like it . . . You're really good at drawing!" Lyrial exclaimed with a smile and handed him back the book.
"Thank you," the Elvenking replied as he closed the sketchbook. He did not know why, but her smile made him feel warm on the inside. He brushed aside any related thoughts to that feeling and asked, "Do you draw as well?"
The elleth shook her head. Wait . . . He actually wants to get to know me . . . ? Of course not; it's only a simple question! "I usually doodle, and I can make simple sketches. But to be honest, I'm not really that good. . ."
"I see . . . Then how are you in other forms of art? You strike me as creative."
"I love creative writing – poetry included. And I really fancy origami; it's like folding paper to create art."
The ellon's curiosity became evident on his face. "Like small, paper-made sculptures?" She nodded, pleased that he made some sort of sense to it. He, on the other hand, was interested in this art-form in which he has never really seen nor heard of. Thranduil reopened his sketchbook and smoothly tore out a blank sheet of paper. He offered it to Lyrial. "Care to demonstrate?"
She smiled as if she was offered chocolate cake as she took the sheet. She began folding and such, and Thranduil intently observed her actions. His eyes then travelled to her concentrated face and then to her full, soft-looking lips. And as she lightly bit the side of her bottom lip, the ellon absent-mindedly thought about how those lips would feel like against his.
"Done!"
Lyrial's friendly declaration had him blinking back his thoughts, as he saw a bird cradled in her slim hands. She extended her arms and placed the paper bird right atop the ellon's closed black leather-bound sketchbook. Thranduil regarded the paper art with intrigue, as the bird consisted of many details; such as the inward creases resembling the eyes, and the line on the beak. He noted the intricate folds, creases and waves on the bird's wings and tail-feathers. All-in-all, the Elvenking more than just liked it.
"Lovely. . ." Thranduil complimented with a small smile. "I must confess; you have talent."
Lyrial blushed and averted her eyes to the paper bird. "Thank you . . . Honestly, I'd never thought that you would like it that much. I mean, when you consider those beautifully detailed paintings in your palace. . ."
Thranduil understood where she was getting at. "Ah, but this is different – unique." He picked up the bird and inspected it some more. "And this is detailed enough considering that the only medium used was a single sheet of paper."
The cool breeze suddenly felt cold to her. Her body had felt it earlier, but her mind had not registered it. . .
Well, she was in a moment. A long moment. She mostly felt cold along her upper body; as she was, after all, wearing an off-the-shoulder dress.
Thranduil noticed her shivering a bit. "You're cold."
"Yes, actually, I was just about to head in," Lyrial responded as she stood up and bowed her head respectively. "Excuse me." Truthfully, she did not want to leave, as she liked sitting and chatting with him. Stupid cold wind. . .
"I want to talk to you again like this some other time," Thranduil spoke up while meeting her eyes with a friendliness. "That is, if you want? I would like to know more about your world."
Lyrial's eyes widened, a little surprised. So he is believing that! I guess the origami demonstration worked. She grinned. "I would love to!"
And then she walked off into the palace in a genuinely happy mood. She also wanted to find Aeluin, and pester him into smuggling some honey cakelettes for her.
Thranduil's gaze lingered on Lyrial as she left; the same way it did when she entered the gardens, and sat before the purple hyacinths. Funny, he thought and shook his head, that before addressing her by her name, he was so close to calling her, "Naneth."
He knew that Lyrial was definitely not his mother; but when she stepped into the gardens, he had seen her. Or at least, a brief illusion of his dead nana. Lyrial had almost the same slim yet somewhat delicate-looking body structure as the previous Elvenqueen of Greenwood. A few parts of her facial structure were also similar to his mother's.
But those eyes . . . Both his mother and Lyrial had the exact same sparkling, rich amethyst eyes.
Thranduil rested his check into his palm and looked at the paper bird. He gave a small smile accompanied with saddened eyes.
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Na Lû – Until Later - (Sindarin)
Mellon Nîn – My Friend - (Sindarin)
Suil – Greetings - (Sindarin)
Gi Suilon – I Greet You - (Sindarin)
Aran Nîn – My King - (Sindarin)
Naneth/Nana – Mother/Mom - (Sindarin)
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*** After Note I – Feel free to drop a review and let me know what you think~! :D *Smirks deviously for some reason and lounges on her chair whilst eating blueberry cheesecake, accompanied with a cup of Earl Grey Tea~* :3
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