A Place in Heaven
Chapter two
A Haradrim of all people in this palace, but that is not even the worst of it! Aragorn is so welcoming, why? I know why, he is so kind to her only because of the expected child, his happiness is affecting his judgment. To make matters even worse I must become her shadow. I blankly refused when he first announced it. Oh but he is clever and cunning. He chose to announce it to the whole court so that I cannot refuse the so-called honor. Honor what honor? Well I shall make it as difficult for her as it is for me. I walked in front of her in long strides, and it required some effort of her to catch up to me. I took her to the palace gardens and soon she did not pay attention to me but flowers. It seemed they had an effect on her. She started to cry, she thought I could not see but I sensed her pain, and saw her tears. A deep pain but she immediately quietened it. Curious, though I was not curious enough to ask. As far as I was concerned she was nothing to me. I did not trust nor respect her in the least bit.
Control yourself. Head up, confidence shining through and a big smile plastered itself on my face. I have done this a thousand times; maybe that is the one thing that my father benefited me in. I took one last look at the flowers and followed Legolas. He stopped at a separate building, went in and came out with a bow and arrow. I had no knowledge of how to handle any weapons as I was a woman and women did not fight in Harad. It was not considered the thing. He spoke to me but never gave me the dignity of looking into my eyes and addressing me. I had seen this done a thousand times and more by many different people. I cannot say I blamed him very much because I was a Haradrim and the daughter of their king no less.
"If you are ever going to survive on your own then you must have some knowledge in how to defend yourself because I expect you will get attacked. Watch, listen and don't interrupt" he said in one long breath. I was somewhat less than impressed with his continually condescending tone. He spoke to servants better. Did he not understand that I was a princess, a Haradrim princess, but a princess nonetheless?
He threw a sword in my direction and asked if I knew how to use it. I shook my head indicating my ignorance. He sighed then, a long sigh as though he expected this to be a very difficult job. I was determined to prove him wrong. His back was to me and all of a sudden, in one quick motion I found the tip of the sword just below my left breast and just above my heart. He demonstrated his point and I received the message loud and clear.
I taught her for about a half a day with no rests. She seemed exhausted whilst I was feeling as though I had just returned from a brisk walk. She has determination, that much must be said for her and her pride is beyond measure though that is not understandable for such people as the Haradrim. With one quick blow of my left hand I swipe the sword from her hand and catch it with my right hand. She understands that this signals the end of the session and walks away from me.
I felt I learned a lot from him and I was determined to practice more because no body treats me like a servant. I walked off in the opposite direction, determined to find my room on my own. That proved to be a rather hard task and I only found the room after I ran into one of the elders that were present earlier that day and was kind enough to point me in the right direction. Although I had left Legolas some time ago, it was as if I could sense his eyes upon me as I walked down the corridors.
Finally I managed to find my room. I was tired, hot and hungry, but I should stop wallowing in self-pity and start getting used to this kind of life. I must no longer see myself as a princess because I left that life behind. Instead I should look at myself through Legolas's eyes, because I realize that is how everyone will be viewing me. My slate is wiped clean as though I have no memory.
The following two weeks took the same pattern as the first day and I was almost forgetting my sorrow until the day when queen Arwen informs me of an upcoming banquet held, apparently, in my honor. She was asking what I would like to wear and if I wanted she could have her tailor work with me to produce something more suitable and to my liking. I take her up on that offer and go to meet the tailor. He asks me to draw him a sketch to give an idea of the design I was hoping for. I do that and immediately I see the pained look on his face. Theirs were elegant long dresses with the simplest of designs, which in our eyes are reserved for maids that choose the virgin robes. The tailor called it monstrous and devil wear to his servants in a variation of the tongue, which he did not realize I understood.
After the business with the tailor I feel the need for another training session so that I might release some of the anger I behold. I seek Legolas where he waits out for me in the hallway and he informs me that today we shall further our training with the sword and so we begin. He tells me that swordplay is much like dancing. You must be graceful but strong, elegant but willful, gentle but wary. I take it all in. he tells me that my biggest enemy in a battle is not the one I am fighting rather it is fear of the one I am fighting. Fear cripples, it is a sickness, do not let it in your heart or you will surely perish and so infect others surrounding you. I cannot help but I admire him. His skill with the sword is fascinating and that is not considered his specialty. I heard from the girls the bow and arrow is his favorite weapon.
It is the end of yet another exhausting day and so I retire to my chambers once more but I am not as tired as the previous day. With some strength in me left I bath, brush the soft curls of my hair and select a soft lilac garment of silk that clings to my figure and highlights my curves like all of these western dresses. I walk out into the courtyard with the white tree standing so proud in the middle of it. What does it symbolize I wonder. Maybe life? I realize that the city is almost part of a mountain or a hill of some sort so I walk to the edge and I can see the lower circles of the city beneath me. I look above at the beautiful night sky. Memories, so many memories. The stars remind me of so much, oh so much. So many nights spent besides that living laughing face. Where are you? I whisper to the wind. Why have you left me so in this cruel world? The sky here is bleak in comparison to that of Harad. I start to sing of home, softly first but I soon grow louder. I sing of the desert and the oasis within. I sing of our places and rivers, but mostly I sing of Ashtar, our beloved Goddess watching over us.
I followed her today out by the white tree. She did not see me, as I was careful. I was convinced she would commit some crime and so was determined to follow her. When she first started singing I thought she was performing a chant of some sort. Witchcraft of the Haradrim but it was just a song. Her song was, though I say it begrudgingly, beautiful. Her voice was exquisite and even her appearance seemed delightfully exciting in an unfamiliar kind of way. I caught a sense of that same pain, so much pain and in one so young seemed unnatural. Suddenly she turns around and sees me. Her face is glistening with tears and she adopts a look of utter misery, despair mixed in with so much fury that her soft features were immediately sharpened.
The elf was watching me make a fool of myself. He was spying on me in my vulnerability. I was so humiliated and angry. All of a sudden the pain and fury that had been trapped within me for the past year or so came bubbling to the surface and exploded in Legolas's face.
"How dare you presume to follow and spy on me at night?" I asked red faced and panting with anger, "Have you no manners, no decency?"
"well well well, look who is talking about decency and manners! You are less than a commoners girl here in the west, you may have been a princess in your fathers so called palace or shall I say hut as befits that sheepherder you call a king but here you are not so don't presume to act like one" he was so arrogant so mocking and adopted a tone of such malicious superiority that my rage was tripled and inflamed to three times the original size and so I lunged forward attacking him. He whirred around and stopped me in an instant holding both my arms behind me in his left hand and putting his right arm around my throat.
"Let me go this instant" I was shocked and disappointed at my own childish act of desperation that I withdrew and recoiled into myself, my face a mask of pain, whilst he twisted my arm harder. I knew what this was; after all I was not a stranger to men and their pride. I find it curious how I always find myself in such positions, once with a sword, another with a knife and last of all with a noose until this little moment here.
I had her in such a position that one hard pull on her neck and she would surely die. I have killed with my bare hands before and I could just as easily do it to a woman who was of her smaller size. I twist her arm. I am sure that it causes her great pain and yet she does not cry out. Her breathing rate stays the same. I twist harder until I can almost feel the bone shifting and still she does not cry out. I release her. She instantly gathers whatever dignity she has left, looks me in the eye. She has honey colored eyes. And she says:
"I wonder what these besotted girls see in you? You are vile and cruel. What's more you are a pathetic wretched creature who exercises power over helpless women."
I release her then. Was it her words? Was it the painful yearning in her heart she so tried to hide from me? Was it the eyes? Who know? I certainly do not. I take a step back and suddenly feel drowned in an ocean of shame. It was not I Legolas that treat women in such ways as befits barbarians and savages. She walks past me heading to the palace and I know that I must apologize. I catch up to her in two strides and take hold of her arm. Her scent is so refreshing it takes my breath away for a second. She struggles but I hold her still.
"I feel the need to apologize I did not mean to hurt you"
She immediately replies never missing a heartbeat. "That is a lie, if you did not mean to do it then why did you?" in a softer and more subdued tone she adds "Besides I care not, I have been through worse, now if you truly mean your apology let me go in peace and we shall no more speak of this"
"Not until you forgive me" she really knew how to make a man feel even more guilt ridden.
"My forgiveness means nothing to you, perhaps only to clear that conscience of yours despite the fact that you regard me as worthy of less than an animal. Well I shall not grant you my forgiveness but I tell you this you do not need to feel guilty. I feel no pain and whatever I shall see in my life to come will mean nothing. Do you hear me nothing! I am not afraid and would go this very night if it were not for your king."
I stood there baffled. Her sudden burst of emotion left me speechless. She yanked her arm from my hands and stalked off to her bedchambers. I found myself thinking more about her and pondering her words. True she only had eighteen years of age but somehow seemed to have suffered more than her short life allowed it. I slept that night and dreamt of her. None of my usual vivid dreams rather the shore where I first stumbled upon her, she was surrounded by a blue heavenly light, which seemed to emanate from within her heart and flood the rest of her being. She stood and mouthed help me before shattering, like glass into a million tiny fragments of blue light. I woke suddenly and drenched in sweat. I gather my thoughts and sigh. One more to add to my collection of dreams.