Realisation
Food and rest after battle- finally available to us. We went to the steward's throne room, and there the others ate. I sat by them, taking sips from my remaining Entwater. I deemed it would be gone soon, but at least I felt more refreshed and my various scrapes and bruises were already healing. Even my side felt better than it had in weeks- I had not noticed due to its constant presence, but there had been a deep, dull ache pulsing through it for days now. It was like boots- you wear them and you don't particularly notice, but when they are off it feels wonderful. But despite the invigorating draught, I felt tired- not in the body, but in the mind. I had been thinking a lot lately; and though I hated to admit it, it had taken its toll. A mixture of the pure fear of the ghosts, confused emotions and the sheer enormity of this war was an expense that my poor brain could not handle.
Now here is a little known fact that even I myself prefer not to admit; I had never been a player of a full out war. Now of course there was Morgoth, Melkor, whatever you wish to call him; he was a greater foe, Sauron just being one of his generals. However, I had been in a way- sheltered. Despite being experimented on, being taken by Morgoth himself to see the suffering spreading all over Beleriand, being turned from human, to elf, to- me I had not been exposed to the forces of battle, and did not play a major role in war. I had escaped, yes, suffered terribly, yes, but had then been brought up by the Ents- they taught me everything. Even how to speak again for since the age of five, I had not one opportunity to say much more than a sentence, or scream and shout. They taught me how to survive- I taught myself how to fight, smithe and do many other things. But once I was an adept warrior, I just went and helped whoever I could, whenever I could. If I saw a battle that needed the tables turning, I would fly in and fight with them, promptly disappearing afterward. But these battles; and yes, although I had fought at Helms Deep, and just that morn at the Pelennor Fields; they were not full scale all-out bloodbaths, against several hundred thousand. I knew what was coming. I had witnessed others win against Melkor- but I myself had done nothing. The stress of what I knew would be coming- I couldn't take it.
I fiddled with my last remaining knife- I had my long one of course, but that didn't really count, as I threw the knives and daggers mostly. A knife the length of my forearm could not be thrown well, and the daggers in my boots were rarely used. I stuck it in the wood of the table. Bored, I took off my gloves and ran the table over. Oak, most likely. Gimli yawned. As if right on cue, approaching footsteps stopped in the chamber. "There are beds prepared for you sir's Legolas and Gimli." The servant said. "I have been informed that Captain Estel has his own arrangements?" Aragorn murmured a 'yes' in agreement. I assumed the servant was addressing Gimli and Legolas again. "If you would follow me." They mumbled good-night to Aragorn and I, before following the servant to their quarters.
Even this simple motion set my emotions into turmoil. Legolas had been sitting beside me, Gimli across with Aragorn; but the second he got up I missed his presence. The comforting familiar warmth he radiated, his slow steady breathing rate- for a terribly thought out reason, I missed it. I needed rest, I decided, immediately. But how to get it?
It seemed Legolas and Gimli had simply asked a servant, so no doubt I could do the same. However there was one issue- I knew that in places like this, visitors were placed in communal sleeping chambers, each gender assigned different rooms. Yet, in all likelihood I would be mistaken for a gentleman. It was not that I had a problem sharing a room with guys- well actually I did, they snore very loudly- but I would sincerely prefer not to. I inwardly shrugged. Better make myself looks somewhat feminine. I took off my hood and let down my hair, combing my fingers through it once or twice. I contemplated taking off my ribbon, eventually deciding to. A servant was unlikely to observe deeply, although I still felt wary looking at me without that ribbon was like looking into my soul. Tucking all the paraphernalia into my belt and quiver, I believed I looked like a woman well enough. I felt Aragorn look up at me, confused at my actions. "It's warm in here," I explained "and constantly wearing a hood and ribbon can get stuffy." Not a lie, but not a complete truth either. Carving a random shape into the table, I waited for a few minutes until I could hear a suitable maid walk near. Gently brushing my finger over the shape, it seemed to be some sort of square spiral. Meh.
I could hear someone walking to the chamber now, though I still wasn't sure who. When the person was roughly three minutes away, I could tell they were young, female, and most likely a servant. The way her dress scratched along the floor told me it was poor quality material that did not sweep along the floor like a grand gown. So I sat, fiddled and waited for her to enter the room.
As soon as she entered the room she swapped posts with a male servant. I had decided against asking him to take me to a resting place, for not only would it be inappropriate for a man to go near the female quarters, but it would be strange for me to have taken off several of my trademark paraphernalia then ask him. It was better this way. As soon as the maid seemed comfortable in her post I walked up to her, clearing my throat. "I was wondering if there was any place where I could possibly rest?"
"Of course Lady…"
"Dale." It was a name off the top of my head, for 'Darke' would sound strange and may attract rumours. I hated rumours; nasty, usually false buggers that circulated the population like wildfire. They held no use.
"Lady Dale," The maid replied in a high lilting voice, "If you would follow me, I can take you to a sleeping chamber."
I declined my head. "Thank-you."
We walked down the hallways, memorising the route as I went. There was no point in relaxing if you couldn't find your way back to the real world. I made no attempt at small talk, for I was inexperienced and quite bad at it. "The sleeping quarters are communal I'm afraid," the maid said proving my prediction accurate, "though if not up to your standards I'm sure something else can be arranged…"
"Any place with a bed sounds wonderful." I replied smoothly, sincerely hoping that was what I was meant to say. Apparently it was, because her heartbeat which had nervously sped up slowed back down.
Eventually after five turns and two-hundred meters we came to what I assumed was the women's bedchamber. I assumed this because, well, it was full of women. Maybe full is not the correct word, but there were about twenty, from the echoes telling me that it could hold around fifty. Still, it was a large company of solely women, a situation which I had never found myself in before. "The third bed in the fourth row is available." The maid said. "If you need something, just find one of us." Thanking her, she left and I clicked my tongue a little using the power of echolocation to find the cot. No-one should notice. I felt several pairs of eyes on me, but the majority kept to their sleeping, quiet chatting or what I assumed was sewing. I took off my belt and quiver, stashing them under the bed, and crashed down upon the cot. I immediately noticed that it was too short, my head and feet close to coming off either end. However, I was exceptionally tall. I blame Entdraught.
Though I did not need to lie down to rest or sleep for that matter, the ability to lie down on a comfortable surface and drift off was beautiful. I should get myself one of these, I told myself, even if it ends up as a random mattress lying in the middle of the Fangorn. It was bliss. I let my mind wander, my ears floating from one sound to the next. Eventually they decided to stay listening aimlessly to the whisper of a needle passing in and out of embroidery. I wondered for some reason if I would be any good- likelihood of success; zero- likelihood of turning my hands into pincushions; one-hundred percent. I smirked at my imagination, trying to think from another's point of view. I imagined colours on a white canvas and what I believed to be me sitting on some kind of chair- was that thing… some kind of flower… red or pink? Hmm, I appeared to be forgetting colours in favour for the amount of heat they gathered. Of course I couldn't actually touch my imagination to check, so I was left to my my faltering memory.
Lying there, resting with my mind still wandering, I came to think upon what my companions looked like. How did people see them? Gimli was easy to think of; short and stocky, with a massive beard down to his waist. Most likely with braids in it, and probably a bright orange- red from his father's reputation. Aragorn was more difficult; I knew he was tall- maybe 6ft, 6ft 2 perhaps? And skinny. Shoulder length hair, probably blond or brown. A defined jaw and longish nose from the way I heard him breathe, and maybe some stubble? I wasn't sure about that one.
In my mind Pippin, Merry and Frodo were almost identical. Short with big feet and a little bit in the waist, as it was with all hobbits. Curly hair too, probably a light brown or blond. I think Merry had a longer face, while Frodo had a more squarish one. Sam was the odd one out I could tell. He was taller than the other three, with a rectangular head and short hair.
Borimer had been like Aragorn, though a bit broader and shorter. I was quite sure he'd had a short beard- I'd hear it rasp against his collar every now-and-then. It made me sad to think of him; especially now that I was in his very city. Gandalf I already knew, although his beard and hair were evidently shorter.
Then there was Legolas; I must say he was the most difficult to conjure up. He had long hair for certain, but what colour? I assumed it was black like most of his people, but I had heard that Thranduil was pale blond- did Legolas take after his father perhaps? Pointed ears were a certainty along with height. He was the tallest of our companions aside from myself; about 6ft 2 or 3. The shape of his face I was not so sure about; yes, I could tell he had a well-defined jaw, but was it more rectangular or triangular? I gave up on it, leaving the elf to be conundrum. The only way I would be able to tell was if I touched his face; pfft, like that was going to happen. Though the urge was there certainly- in fact, come to think of it, I was tempted to touch his face. Happy butterflies rose in my stomach.
There it was again; those stupid mysterious emotions toward my fellow warrior. Many times I had tried to figure out what they were and what they meant, but I had been frustrated or interrupted. I wish Fangorn was here, or Quickbeam. They could give me an answer. "Stay close to young Greenleaf." I remembered Fangorn saying. "He will take care of you." I didn't need taking care of. I had survived for centuries on my own, solo, never needing anyone else. Or did I? It was possible that I didn't need anyone else because I hadn't met anyone else I needed. Thinking of it now, I couldn't think of a life without my companions anymore; Legolas in particular. I could not think of what future awaited after this war, and after Gimli, Legolas and I went on our little sightseeing journey. It would be lonely and boring. Dull. Search for what your life hasn't had. Galadriel had said. Your heart is not yet full. Now I thought of it, my heart seemed to swell whenever the elf was around. It didn't make me feel whole- I had always felt that way- but it did make me feel full, in a way. Like there was nothing else I needed in life. Legolas could very well be my best friend; we had shared things with each other that we hadn't with any other, we weren't afraid to speak our mind to each other yet we still got along perfectly well. Yet it wasn't friendship- I had had friends far before he came into my life. It wasn't love either- at least not love as in a blanketing term, as I had been loved by my parents and the Ents. My friends to, Gandalf, Gwaihir, Tom and so on.
A thought flitted across my brain of the night when Pippin got hold of the palantir. Legolas had brought down my barriers, comforted me like no-one else ever had. I recalled my thoughts then- I was possibly in love. Was romance the thing I was searching for? Unlikely, but possible. All other options I could think of were exhausted, and wasn't possibly good as a yes? Something in my heart told me it was. But why and how? I didn't know, but then did anyone? He was kind, gentlemanly, treated me well, we respected each other and understood each other; but these things could be found in just simple friendship. Somehow though, something in my heart and soul told me I was in love with Legolas, no matter how crazy and far-fetched it seemed, even to myself.
The realisation shocked me. I was relieved; I finally had an answer to these emotions! An answer to the painful conundrum that had been plaguing me! The aftershock pained me equally though. It would never work- he was the prince of Mirkwood where as I; even I myself didn't know what race I was. I was a 6500 year old bird woman, the daughter of Morwen and Hurin, sister to Turin. I had no family, knew no skills for running a suitable kingdom and primarily, no matter my capabilities, I was BLIND. A blind woman, no matter who or what she is, will have trouble fitting anywhere. And in all likelihood, Legolas would not feel the same way towards me. I would keep my emotions to myself for now- it was the safest for both my heart and the situation at hand. Neither of us could afford to be distracted. It was the bitter honest truth, but as the truth goes, it was true.
I felt- both depressed and elated if that makes any sense. Yes, I was still overjoyed I had found and answer to my confusion- but it was quenched by impossibility. I needed something to occupy me so I wouldn't turn into a shuddering emotional wreck. Especially in front of all these women- it would be both awkward and confusing for them to see a warrior break down in their midst at seemingly nothing. I had retained my position on my back, fighting to keep my breaths slow and even.
The air felt cool. It must be early night, not the time for people to be going to bed yet. A few more women had started sewing, and from the turning of pages, a few were reading. Two others had joined the conversation between a few by the doorway, but I ignored it and decided not to comprehend anything they said. With a quiet groan I rolled up and sat on the edge of the cot, pulling my belt from under it and fastening it around my waist. I also pulled out my long knife from my quiver- hey, it was something to keep me occupied. I pulled the tiny whetstone from my pouch and began to run it up and down the blade, flipping it each time. It made a quiet, yet horribly screechy and high pitched noise. If I had the choice I would not sharpen my blades, but unfortunately that was not an option if I wanted them to stay usable. I concentrated on keeping the stone on the edge of the blade, not letting it slip to high or off the edge. That could blunt and roughen it, defeating the original purpose.
I did not know what the women were whispering and saying, though in the future I regretted I did not. I heard one get up and walk towards me, but thought nothing of it. I was surprised however when they stood a little away from me, intently staring. Did they want something? I waited for them to speak, then realised I should probably raise my head to 'look' at them. After all, they did not know I was blind.
So I raised my head to their general direction. "Do you want something?" I asked the woman, not unkindly. She did what I assumed was shake her head.
"Not at all sir, only to ask how you are." Sir! Even when I made a bit of an effort to look feminine, this stupid noblewoman thought I was a guy. As if they would put a man in the women's quarters.
"I am fine thank-you." I said politely back, hoping she would leave me.
"I don't think you are." She replied back. "There has just been a battle after all, and no doubt you have lost many of your fellows. I can see the sorrow in your eyes." Well of course I wasn't alright as I had just come to a shocking realisation, but there was a reason I kept my ribbon around my eyes. "Your eyes are distant," she said unhelpfully, then- the nerve!- plonked herself down beside me. She was a bold one. "I can help heal your pain though."
Very bold indeed. Then she began to run a finger down my arm, my bicep to be precise. "A noble warrior such as yourself shouldn't have to suffer through the pain alone." I shivered as her finger reached my elbow, and shied away. Was this woman flirting with me? Did she seriously think I was a guy?!
My suspicions were proven correct as she touched her finger to my jawline. This was scary, not to mention weird. Gently I pushed away her hand. "Err….thanks and all…. But you do realise I'm a woman right?" I could think of no other way of putting it. It was awkward. Probably the most awkward situation I had ever been in to this day. The poor woman leapt up as if bitten, and I felt the heat rise significantly; she had gone very, very, red.
"I-I-I'm s-so sorry." She stammered embarrassed. "They dared me to do it I swear!" She pointed someplace behind her, and I could literally feel the confusion radiating from everyone in the room. "Sorry!" She squeaked again, hurrying out of the chamber. I sighed, deciding to strap my quiver back on and leave. So much for rest.
With nothing to do, I went to the halls of healing. I took my time, greeting people and marvelling at the fact I was walking through the middle of a street without being stared at. Much. There were a few who recognised me from the battle and congratulated me on the work with the Oliphaunt's, and although it was nice for my work to be recognised, it was unnerving to have strangers come up. I think they may have felt pressured into doing it as well, some still possibly thinking I was a demon of Sauron.
I walked into the halls as silently as possible, finding my way to the wing that held Faramir, Eowyn and the Hobbits. I could hear them sleeping soundly, Merry letting out little snores every so often.
Faramir and Eowyn were talking softly on the balcony. "….grows so cold." Eowyn whispered. Faramir softly replied "It's just the damp of the first spring rain. I do not…" I cut off comprehending them there, believing they wouldn't want to be heard. Their voices held the tone of young love, albeit a common tone and easily identifiable, not something that should be broken. From my knowledge. So for the rest of the eternal seeming night I wandered the streets of Minas Tirith, woeing what I doubted could be.
A/N- Ok, so today isn't Thursday but hey, she FINALLY realised! I hope you're all as excited as I am, so the more reviews the faster I type:)
