So I decided that since a lot of people can't see Chapter 7 (A Walk Back), I would post Chapter 8 (The Battle Begins) with Chapter 7 before it. SO! Here is A Walk Back, followed by The Battle Begins, Chapters 7 and 8. Chapter 7 might miraculously pop back up eventually, but I'll just leave it like this with this note on top so no one reads Chapter 7 twice. I hope that fixes everything!
By the end of the night, many Elves had taken their leave of the Fall Festival. I had stuck around, if not solely to get my rather shaky hands on more wine, then for humor's sake; sometimes, I kept my eyes on Aragorn, who would suddenly dart under a table or hide behind a nearby tree to escape the giggling 'ladies' from the halls. Sometimes, I watched Malian, who (to my chagrin) also seemed to be watching me. Sometimes I glanced at Legolas, who was tripping over himself and stuttering like an idiot whenever Kaethe came near him. I even saw Thranduil a few times; one of the times I thought I saw him hurry away as Kaethe approached him, but I dispelled this concept as selective vision and thought on it no more. I could see many things from where I perched the rest of the night (near the wine table), and kindly disregarded any cheeky looks I received from the male sex in general. I was seriously reconsidering ever having put on the gorgeous dress.
"Excuse me, milady, I don't mean to interrupt—"
"Yes, well, if you didn't mean to then you wouldn't have," I answered shortly before flicking my eyes up at the perpetrator. I saw from the top corner of my eye a rather tall Elf (taller than usual, I mean) with long, sawdust-blonde hair and grey eyes. I had to admit to myself that he was not hard to look at, but I doubted even a Dwarf was hard to look at in such an intoxicated state. "Well?" I prodded, as he had taken to staring doubtfully at me.
"I had noticed you earlier and I—well, I thought you looked lonely. I wanted to keep you company, I suppose," he answered, shuffling his feet a bit and talking to the ground rather than my face. Seeing as that was possibly the sweetest thing I had heard since reaching Mirkwood, I patted the bench beside me. He obliged thankfully, taking his seat.
"What's your name?" I inquired.
"I am Féoras, son of Fáolan."
"Well Féoras-son-of-Fáolan, my name's Laina," I replied, tipping my wine glass toward him and accidentally spilling a bit of wine on his lap. I immediately thought to wipe it off, but Féoras quickly stood and did so himself, his ear tips turning a dark shade of red. "Sorry," I said after a moment. "I'm a little…"
"It's fine, milady," he said quickly, taking his seat again.
"Laina."
"Laina." I stared at him for a moment before he noticed and he asked hurriedly, "Do you need an escort back to the halls? I could take you." What a gentle-Elf.
"Thanks Féoras, but no thanks. You see, I'm waiting on a couple of dolts—" I motioned to Aragorn, Legolas, and Malian in turn, "—to see me back to my room. Someone has to keep an eye on them or they'll wind up walking all the way Mordor before they noticed where they were." Féoras gave a nervous sort of laugh and said no more. I leaned my head against him after a moment, and I was certain he almost died of sudden female-contact overload, but I kept my head where I had laid it and surveyed what remained of the Festival. Many of the tables had been brought back by a group of volunteers to the castle. The only tables that remained were the one Féoras and I were seated at and the one that held what wine glasses were left un-drunk. Pity. As I looked around, I noticed Malian glaring sourly at me and Féoras. Not wanting poor Féoras to get his head chopped off by any nobles, I decided enough was enough and I lifted my head. "Féoras, I see my party is leaving. It was nice to meet you." We stood simultaneously and Féoras took my hand, planting a rather frightened and hasty kiss on my knuckles before dropping the hand unceremoniously back at my side.
"Thank you for letting me sit with you," Féoras answered before turning and walking toward a rather old-looking female Elf who had a delighted look on her face. I made a mental note to find him later and ask what exactly that had been about.
"Oi, Greenleaf!" I yelled, turning back to my party of ridiculous morons. Legolas turned his head slightly to look at me before stumbling over his own feet and nearly falling to the ground. At any normal point in time, I would have laughed uncontrollably, but for some reason or another (I guessed it was the alcohol), I hurried to him and grabbed his arm to keep him steady. "You'll want to watch where you're going, eh?"
"If you hadn't called my name…I would…I'm fine," Legolas replied, trying to wrench his arm from my grasp but failing miserably. He had had called my name…I would…I'm fine," Legolas replied, trying to wrench his arm from my grasp but failing miserably. He had had far too much to drink.
"Sure you are, Leaf, sure you are," I consoled him. "Mal, Aragorn, get your stupid drunk backsides over here, will you? I think it's about time to go," I called to them over my shoulder. Malian instantly appeared at my side and we walked a few paces before Aragorn caught up with us, taking Legolas' other arm and putting it around his shoulder.
"I do not need…help…yours," Legolas muttered as Aragorn held his arm, but from what I could tell, Legolas had made no struggle to release himself from Aragorn's hold. Malian offered me his arm to hook mine into and I accepted, letting my left hand slide down Legolas' arm to his hand. To my surprise, Legolas suddenly clutched my hand forcefully, intertwining his fingers in mine. I looked at him inquisitorially but he was not looking at me; instead his eyes were fixed on his feet, his eyelids drooping dangerously, so I brushed the act off as simply drunken stupor and continued up the path to the castle, Legolas on one side and Malian on the other (one of whom was trying to get a good luck at my left hand without bending so far over so as to trip himself).
We finally reached the halls and Aragorn took his leave, dropping Legolas' arm to kiss me on the cheek before heading toward his room. I had made a mental note not to look at Malian as Aragorn did so, and Malian and I walked in the direction of Legolas' room. We passed a familiar-looking corridor and I recognized them as the steps leading down to the second floor.
"Malian, I can handle Legolas the rest of the way," I offered, stopping and unhooking my arm.
"No, I would rather make sure, he seems awfully intoxicated—" Malian started, clearly having no intention of letting me walk Legolas to his room alone.
"You're in no way helping me carry him anyway, and he's walking fine. He is only holding my hand," I replied. Malian's eyes flashed briefly before his head lowered itself in a bow.
"See you tomorrow, then," Malian said through gritted teeth.
"Don't be so silly, Malian; this crush you have on me is getting quite annoying, to tell you the truth," I answered before walking away briskly and pulling Legolas forcefully behind me, leaving Malian standing at the top of the stairs in shock (and was it slight embarrassment?).
A moment later, we reached what I recognized as Legolas' room. I pushed open the door with my foot and pulled Legolas inside. He was busy mumbling something about not wanting to sleep in his own room, but I refused to let him go to Kaethe's room (if she had one, and I was quite sure she did, and I wondered briefly where she had disappeared to far earlier than her fiancé), because he would surely embarrass himself and try to seduce the bedpost instead of Kaethe herself. I sat down on Legolas' bed, hoping Legolas would follow suit. He did. Damn, I knew this Elf too well, and after five hundred years he had not changed much.
"Okay Leaf, this is where I leave you," I said soothingly, trying to free my hand from his, but to my astonishment, he was holding on too tightly.
"Do not leave," Legolas whispered, sounding a bit suggestive. I raised one inquiring eyebrow at him and noticed that he was staring unabashedly into my eyes, his honey browns gently caressing mine. I was so close to his face I could smell the wine on his breath, and I nearly choked on my own breath as his face inched closer to mine.
"Greenleaf, what in Arda do you think you are doing?" I nearly yelled, tying desperately to jerk my hand away. This was getting a little strange.
"I just don't want to be alone," he replied softly, moving his head back a few spaces.
"Well I am quite sure I could call someone in here to take care of you if need be, but as for me, I would like to get a little bit of sleep tonight so if you could just let go—"
"I let go five hundred years ago. I never want to have to again," Legolas said softly. Well, besides the comment from Féoras, that was the sweetest statement I had heard since returning to Mirkwood.
"That's quite adorable of you, but I'm afraid we will see one another tomorrow morning, Legolas. Now let go of my hand before I clout you," I threatened very seriously. Legolas looked into my eyes for a few more moments before obliging. "Thank you, now sleep well O Prince." With that, I stood and exited, determined not to look back at him before shutting the door behind me. Honestly.
CHAPTER 8 – The Battle Begins
The next day I was well into forgetting any of the happenings of the night before when Legolas barged brashly into my room. I had been sitting on my bed, back against the head, reading a book I had found lying around. To my chagrin, it was mostly lofty poetry and I was almost glad for the interruption, for boredom was catching up with me quickly.
"Hello Leaf," I said without looking up. I had known the instant I heard footsteps outside my door that it was Legolas entering.
"Laina, I have been sent to retrieve you," Legolas said, commanding with his voice that I look up. I obeyed, and raised one eyebrow inquisitorially at him.
"By whom, might I ask?"
"Just come, will you?" Legolas replied impatiently. "Aragorn says it's urgent."
"Urgent?" I echoed, throwing down my book. Aragorn never said anything was urgent if it were not true. Legolas threw me an unreadable glance before rushing me forward. I could tell something was seriously wrong, but from the numerous glances Legolas was throwing, I realized it was something he would rather not say because he was afraid it would worry me. How thoughtful. I followed him out of the room and down the hallway toward the foyer, and I was so preoccupied with the fact that his hand was holding mine to pull me forward (and preoccupied also with wondering how that came to be) that I did not notice the cluster of Elves surrounding something lying on the carpeted ground. When I finally did notice anything other than my left hand, I was in the middle of the throng, standing over a bleeding Elf with an arrow through his shoulder. I recognized him immediately.
"Féoras!" I exclaimed, falling to my knees beside him. "What happened?"
"Orcs," Legolas spat, trying to back some of the gathering crowd away from the bleeding Elf. I was momentarily at a loss as to why I was the one called to the scene when I remembered that Aragorn knew I had learned much healing from Elrond himself.
"Athelas," I said immediately, looking up and seeing Aragorn. Aragorn muttered something to a few Elven soldiers behind him before he bent down beside me. The Elves took off out of the door and into the woods quicker than I could see, and Aragorn was tugging lightly at the arrow. I looked immediately to Féoras' face which was paler than I remembered, nearly matching the sawdust-blonde of his hair. His lips were a lighter shade of pink as well, and his grey eyes were closed. He had apparently passed out from either loss of blood or pain, but he was certainly not feeling anything Aragorn was doing to him at the moment. As soon as I looked back at the wound I realized the arrow was gone and instead rested on the ground beside Féoras. I looked up at Aragorn, who shrugged.
"Ranger," he said, indicating the arrowhead. He had pulled the arrow out of Féoras' shoulder without breaking the arrowhead? I was impressed, but I did not have time to marvel at it because I soon had athelas shoved into my hand and I was pressing it on the wound. Féoras' eyes blinked a few times and he opened his mouth as if to scream, but remained silent and closed his eyes tightly in agony. I released the pressure on his wound slightly to dull the pain.
"Féoras, can you hear me?" I asked loudly. Féoras could do naught but nod, and that was good enough for me. "I need something for a bandage, something to stop the bleeding," I said to no one in particular, and a bit of rough bandaging was brought to me almost immediately. I wrapped it around Féoras with some help from Aragorn and Legolas, who had picked him up to allow the wrap to reach all the way around. When I had finished bandaging the wound, a few Elves who resembled healers picked Féoras up carefully and took him away. I was still sitting on the ground for Varda only knows how long when I felt a soft hand on my shoulder.
"He'll be fine," Aragorn's voice said somewhere behind me. I turned around numbly and stared up into Aragorn's face. I noticed his face was getting closer but I was unaware that he was actually pulling me to my feet. "You helped him," Aragorn said.
"You could have done the same," I said after a while.
"I know of athelas, but have never used it," he replied momentarily. "Something tells me…" I would have asked what he was thinking but he seemed to have stumbled into something resembling deep thought and I decided it best not to disturb. I did not notice we were walking until I saw the door to my room ajar and realized we were in the hallway.
"What happened?" I asked finally as we reached the doorway. Aragorn's eyes unclouded and his silver irises were scanning me darkly. It was as if he had also forgotten where we were and who I was, and was dreading the question.
"Oh," he began, "Féoras was on patrol around the castle and, well, as far as I know he did not put up much of a fight. I was walking around aimlessly when I saw Legolas with a body flopped over his shoulder walk into the castle. I helped him lay Féoras down, and that's where you come in," he answered, deadpan. I nodded.
"What are all the Orcs doing here?" I demanded after a while of silent exasperation. "They already know where the Ring is, and it isn't here! I would rather they go to the West and find it and leave us all alone!"
"Laina!" Aragorn exclaimed, cupping a hand over my mouth. "Do not say that. If Sauron retrieves the Ring of Power, all of Middle-earth will fall to him. We will live in darkness."
"So why stay? We can all go to Aman, the Undying Lands and escape," I answered childishly.
"Do you think I could go there, Laina? What about the Men of Middle-earth? What about the Dwarves, the trees, the Hobbits, where should they go?" Aragorn was becoming angrier with every passing second. I could see a glimmer of flame in his silver eyes and I was at that moment certain of Aragorn's fate as King of Gondor. The fire in his eyes was so prominent at that very second that I was able to see his entire future, and I was overcome with grief at his passing, but my heart was glad for the race of Men for having such a leader. However, as soon as the vision had come it was lost, and I forgot everything I had seen in that moment. The flame passed and I was left shocked but unaware, and nothing remained in memory.
"Sorry," I whispered. "I don't know what I was thinking. Of course, of course we have to fight," I agreed. "I just cannot bear to see anyone hurt, Aragorn. Poor Féoras! He was so innocent."
"He is so innocent, Laina. Don't talk in the past tense. He will live, you know that wound was not fatal," Aragorn reassured me. I nodded.
"You are right, as usual," I said, relaxing in his presence. "But I do not want you to fight, Aragorn," I sputtered, throwing my arms around his neck and burying my face in his chest. I breathed in the filth of him, but I was comforted because the scent was so familiar to me. I felt his strong arms wrap around my back and hug me tightly. "I could not bear to see you hurt. You or anyone else."
"I will try my best not to be on the receiving end of any fatal blows," Aragorn promised, a bit of a smile playing on his lips. I smiled too despite myself and freed my body from his grip.
"You better, or I'll have your head," I replied. Aragorn gave me a feigned frightened look and rubbed his neck as if someone had sliced his throat. I giggled in reply.
"I know what just happened was a bit, well, alarming, but would you like to accompany me to breakfast?" Aragorn asked, sticking out his arm so I could link mine in his. I looked at him thankfully.
"I guess I am hungry," I agreed, slipping my arm through his and allowing him to lead me in the direction of the dining hall. "I hope there is no 'royal breakfast' this morning," I announced after a bit. "I don't think I could handle any of those tittering nitwits today." Aragorn chuckled.
"No, I think not," he concurred, and to my pleasure, the dining hall was nearly empty when we arrived. Only a few Elves remained, and I recognized none of them, so Aragorn and I sat down at places with food still set up in front of them and dug in.
Later that day, I found myself visiting the newest addition to the halls of Mirkwood – the hospital wing. I had never ventured into the wing before, seeing as it was on the bottom level of the castle and had not been used since the War of the Last Alliance, in which many of the formerly-named Greenwood Elves had taken part. The wing was a bit dusty and the air quite stale, but there were rows of beds, the linens on which must have been washed recently because they were a blinding white. Only one bed lay occupied, and I constantly stood near, watching the healers come in and out, doting on Féoras. He had opened his eyes and by now was chatting as animatedly as possible, both for his condition and for his reserve.
"Thank you," he was saying for the fifteenth time that afternoon. I had taken to rolling my eyes at his gratitude; a little was worthwhile, but after hearing it so many times my pointed ears might fall off, I was beginning to get a little annoyed.
"For the last time Féoras, stop thanking me. Anyone could have done it. I just so happened to be the Elf Aragorn suggested," I insisted, plopping into a chair beside his bed and waving off the thanks. Féoras said nothing but eyed me for a bit before relaxing and turning his sawdust-blonde head to face up. I looked up with him, noticing the stark white of the ceiling above us, and I was examining the walls when I felt two hands slink over my eyes. I giggled. "Aragorn, you're a bit predictable," I said, forcing his hands away and turning around. To my surprise, a rather taken aback Elf was standing behind me, his honey browns eyeing me suspiciously.
"As if a human could ever be as stealth as an Elf," Legolas mused. I shook my head, smiling, and watched as Legolas walked passed me and to Féoras' bed. "How are you, Féoras? Recovering with the help of a beautiful Elf woman at your side?" Cheek.
"Please, Leaf, none of us see any such thing around here," I asserted, moving to stand beside him. Féoras smiled slightly.
"You saved my life, Prince Legolas," he whispered, clearly about to drift off into sleep.
"Say nothing more of it," Legolas insisted, "and sleep." Féoras' eyelids closed and Legolas and I stood beside his bed, looking down upon him for a while before I felt Legolas' fingertips move slowly down my arm to take my hand. He squeezed it and smiled, nodding toward the door that left the hospital wing. I nodded in agreement and he pulled me gently outside the hospital wing and into the corridor. "You helped this morning," Legolas said as we walked down the hall together, hand-in-hand.
"I am really surprised how dense you all are, not thinking to immediately send someone for athelas," I replied matter-of-factly. Legolas grinned.
"Good thing you listen to herbs lessons, then?"
"And he would have been healed earlier if you ever had," I answered. Legolas chuckled, squeezing my hand again.
"You did learn from the best. How would you like to come watch my archery practice?" If I found the suggestion incredibly dull (and let's just say for a moment that I certainly did), I did not let on. In fact, I decided spending an afternoon with one of my favorite Elves would surely take my mind off the bleeding Elf I had seen this afternoon.
"Make sure you're good enough not to ever let happen to you what happened to Féoras," I suggested. Legolas nodded in agreement. As we rounded the corner, we both saw Malian walking briskly toward us and moved our hands apart so quickly I was convinced Malian had not even noticed.
"Archery practice?" Malian asked, quickly hiding the suspicious glare in his blue eyes.
"Coming, coming," Legolas answered in a monotone. "I'm bringing Laina." Malian raised one questioning eyebrow at us but said nothing, instead turning on his heel and leading both of us to the archery range. I was wondering why Malian had ignored my presence completely when I realized what I had said to him the night before. I winked at Legolas before hurrying to catch up to Malian.
"Mal, I didn't mean what I said—"
"Forget it, Laina," Malian replied, cutting me off.
"No, I was being foolish," I insisted. Malian turned his head sharply toward me and glared.
"You most certainly were," he growled. "To think, you assuming such things when I…I just…I just want to protect you. You have been gone far too long, Laina. You do not know how noble blood works. I am just trying to keep you from getting hurt."
I was too shocked momentarily to say anything, but I had to get something out, so I eventually said, "Just because I have been gone for five hundred years doesn't give you the privilege of babying me, Malian."
"Babying you?" Malian yelled, aggravated. He stopped in his tracks, causing Legolas to run right into him and the both of them toppled to the floor. Malian's ear tips turned a bright shade of red as he stood to brush himself off. "Watch where you're going, Greenleaf," he spat. Legolas stood up, an apologetic look on his face.
I looked at the two of them angrily and decided to ignore Legolas completely. "Just what in Arda are you protecting me from, anyway, Malian? What exactly don't I know about noble blood? Spending enough time with you two has taught me just about everything I need to know – that you're all completely full of yourselves and I should never associate with any of you again!" Of course, I certainly hadn't meant half of what I had just said, but everything came out so fast that I could not stop myself. Legolas was looking rather hurt and irate at the aforesaid words, but Malian was positively fuming.
"As if we would ever have time for peasants such as yourself!" Malian yelled, but Legolas swatted him on the head before he could say any more.
"I don't know what on Middle-earth is wrong with the two of you, but snap out of it!" Legolas interjected. "Neither of you are quite as high-and-mighty as you have just appeared to be, so shut up!"
I immediately calmed, letting the anger wash over me and leaving it behind. "Sorry Mal," I said after a moment of silence, in which Malian still stood seething. He looked up at me sharply before looking at Legolas and stalking off in the direction of the archery range. "What was he talking about, noble blood?" I asked Legolas as we both stood looking after him.
"I have no idea," Legolas answered, shrugging before following Malian, leaving me to trail, confused, behind.