Okay, its kinda short, but I thought that you all deserved an update. So here it is.
Chapter Three: The Wine on the Wall
"Really!" she snapped irritably. Then she turned to the blonde elf, and continued, "And how in the name of the Vala could you be in the practice yard if I just directed you to Lady Galadriel's quarters?"
And just speaking of Lady Galadriel reminded her that these were, as far as she knew, foreign dignitaries. They could be kings or lords (not that she had encountered any visiting royalty that smelled as badly as they did), and just thinking of that made all the blood rush out of her face.
It was by the grace of the Lady that she was still in Lothlorien – and here Naomi was, insulting her visitors. Liars they may have been, but calling a king a liar could get her head removed from her shoulders. Or worse, she removed from her place.
She had just opened her mouth to apologize, however grudgingly, when the dark-haired, stringy one that looked like he hadn't seen a bar of soap a day in his life interrupted with: "Lady Galadriel's quarters?"
They exchanged another of those looks that said they were hiding something, and all thoughts of apology left. "Yes," she replied, folding her hands across her stomach in an unconscious imitation of Manaeth. "I saw you not –" here she paused to calculate "—thirty minutes ago, asking after her ladyship."
Both men, communicating silently, dashed out of her room. Confused, and (she admitted to herself) slightly curious, Naomi followed them. After three amusing minutes of watching them circle through the trees, muttering, "They change constantly," she took pity on them and guided them to Lady Galadriel's quarters.
Hardly stopping for propriety, they burst through the doors to the sitting room, where Lady Galadriel sat, a silver goblet poised against her lips, about to take a drink. "No!" shouted the man and elf, and they leapt to stop her.
"My lords, is something wrong?" she asked mildly.
"There seems to be some identity confusion," put in the man. Galadriel's eyes flickered up to see Naomi hovering in the doorway.
"Does my maid need to be here for this?" she asked.
"Yes," replied the elf. "We are not quite sure of the beginning, but we were in the practicing fields, and Aragorn dashed off after a figure. I followed, and was able to overcome him. He had my face, and though we struggled he disappeared like smoke. He left behind something scrawled in ancient script . . ."
The man (supposedly 'Aragorn') took up the mantra. "It read 'Dread beauty, shrink from pleasure'." Deciding to leave out the part about the unnamed maidservant's screams, he continued, "We met your maid in the hallway. She mentioned having just guided someone who looked like Legolas to your quarters. We have no idea what he may have done here."
When they finished Galadriel sat in silence, swirling her wine in her goblet. Then she held it out to the door. "Naomi . . ." she trailed off, and knowing what to do, Naomi rushed forward and took the goblet from her. She knew than Galadriel wished her to clean it for any trace of poison. She turned to do so and then paused.
Thrust it down her throat, cackled the voice gleefully.
Instead, she pulled from some depth of her mind some arcane knowledge, and without knowing fully what she was doing, she drew back her arms and tossed some of the liquid onto the bare wall.
There was a hissing sound like water touching a hot iron, and the same old elvish script was branded onto the wall, dyed red from the wine. The rest of the burgundy liquid dripped like tears from the message.
Unconsciously, Naomi translated: "Dread beauty, shrink from pleasure."
The two elves and man stared in awe and suspicion at the maidservant. The silver goblet slipped through her fingers to clatter against the floor, but the sound was dulled by the pounding of blood in Naomi's ears.
Stupid girl, hissed the voice.
Then she was running, out the door, through the halls, past a few stunned courtiers who looked offended, and out into the unpopulated forest. Run, run, run pounded the blood in her heart, and she jumped over a fallen branch that her eyes hadn't noticed. She was by the brook and under the water before she could react.
Go away, she told the voice, and opened her mouth to scream at it. Water poured in her mouth, and pressed down on her tongue, not allowing her to say the words. Then strong hands were pulling her from the water, and she was coughing as harsh air took the place of water in her lungs.
She was detached, floating, and noticed that the beautiful elf, the one who had pulled her from the water, had the most marvelous eyes she had ever seen, midnight blue on the outside of the iris softening to silver towards the pupil.
The slim fingers shook her once, twice, and her wet hair flopped in her eyes, and she coughed up more water from the river. Naomi's hands convulsed in her lap, and she noticed that they were red and scratched from pulling at the stones in the riverbed.
"Are you alright?" asked the elf. Legolas. Hadn't Galadriel said that his name was Legolas?
The name struck some memory, and she remembered that the prince of Mirkwood was named Legolas.
Very smart, Naomi, said a different little voice in her head, this one much nicer. You accused the prince of Mirkwood of being a liar. But at that moment, she was so glad that she was alive, she didn't care that when she returned to Lothlorien, she probably wouldn't have her place as maidservant, and would have to pay for the brand on Lady Galadriel's wall.
He had asked her a question, but she couldn't remember. She tried to ask him to repeat it but her throat was raspy, and she found herself unable to say the words.
"Are you alright?" repeated the prince.
She nodded.
"Why did you run?" he asked.
Naomi whispered softly, "My feet began to move." Her words were uneven, but the prince seemed to understand. It was then that she realized she was sitting in his lap, spreading water over his tunic, which had, with her luck, probably cost more than her year's wages.
Her face turned that accursed red, even with the cool river water trickling down her spine and raising gooseflesh across her neck.
Legolas noticed that she wasn't beautiful, even for a human, and with her hair hanging in strings and her face the color of the setting sun, she looked even less attractive. But her eyes were large and naïve, ringed by lashes that each had an individual droplet of moisture.
Despite the seeming innocence, she knew something – that he could tell.
For a moment, as she dropped more and more of the clear water onto his clothing, and her face began to return to its normal shade, he wondered what exactly Naomi the maidservant was hiding.
Then she flinched and whatever connection they'd had was severed. She quickly scrambled out of his lap, hardly looking graceful, and stood. He followed with much more grace than she had exhibited.
"The Lady wants to see you," he said, and she visibly straightened her spine and squared her shoulders.
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