Thanks so much you guys for reviewing. (Icekube! Yay!) Um. . . I think I'll make this story a romance, but only slight, cuz really I don't like writing anything but action or angst. But not with Aragorn, sorry, he's a bit young. With Glorfindel. Besides, Aragorn doesn't hold enough excitement and enigma to keep her. She'll eat the poor guy alive.
p.s. Meluivan Indil- so glad you feel that way to. I thought I was the only one so I just wrote it in hopes of convincing people that elves truly aren't of eternal happiness and holiness and such. Tera's gonna prove that. . .
> > > >. . .> > >
Tera reclined into a beautifully crafted chair with an implied sloth. She raised a knee as a headrest and idly tapped her foot on the smoothly carved wood of her seat.
Idly? Maybe not so much. She could feel her muscles tight under her languid frame, and her shoulders were giving her a headache. But she was being scorned; that was good. She wanted to be underestimated. It would make her job. . . so much easier.
And Farothdûr gazed at her from half-closed lids and wondered, yet again, what it was Glorfindel saw.
She was a fighter, yes; her eyes was as cool and calculating as any veteran. She was not plagued by any of the self-consciousness that was so common in men –her slashed off hair made his skin crawl and her feline face, with those hugely slanted eyes, was clean but unadorned. Her mannerisms were. . . strange, and he had a feeling that she was as much a stranger to her own race as she was here. She was. . .exotic, was the only word that came to him. Exotic in her darkly husky voice, in her underlying amusement and scorn at most everything, in her throaty, feline chuckle.
She was not beautiful in any conventional way, neither for elf nor human. Her face tapered quickly into a narrow, stubborn chin, and her eyes took up much too much of her face. Her nose was small and delicate and completely dwarfed by her eyes, and her lips, though full, were locked in a perpetual smirk. No, she could not be considered beautiful. And yet she was, somehow. No, not beautiful, but striking. Striking in the way a moth sees a flame. There was so much . . . fire, so much life, so much challenge. It called for attention, called for love, or hate, but nothing in between. She was passionate in all that she did, in anger and argument, in fight and defiance. Oh, she was passionate, and it was that passion that either pushed or pulled people to her.
"Right now, you're wondering what the hell it is Glorfindel saw in me. And I'm sitting here wondering what exactly is it he sees in you," the voice disturbed him from his pondering, and he gracefully controlled a wave of irritation.
"Greetings, lady. My name is Farothdûr," his voice he made sure was carefully controlled as he nodded amicably to Tera.
She raised an eyebrow in response.
"Charmed."
Sarcasm was very evident, and the elf shut his eyes quickly to hide seething annoyance.
"Likewise," was his cool reply, and Tera shrugged and resumed her tapping.
She flashed a glance at Elrond, who sat, still and serene as marble, watching the exchange. Tera raised an eyebrow in turn at him, and was slightly irked when he showed no sign of irritation, instead merely inclining his head towards her.
"I see you are. . .comfortable." He said, glancing down at her tapping foot. "Shall we begin?"
She nodded slightly in answer, giving another little tap on purpose before stilling her leg. She wondered if the elf had realized that his serenity only encouraged her to prod even more relentlessly at him. If he did, he didn't show it.
Disappointment, disappointment.
"An elven scouting party has spotted the orc –Sarn, heading towards his stronghold here. The most he will be here is four, five days, which means that–"
"We'll have plenty of time," Tera cut him off lazily, hooking her leg under the chair to pull herself upright.
A raised eyebrow was Elrond's answer. Quickly concealed emotions from other elves ranged from mild anger to fury to extreme annoyance. Tera recline slightly in her chair and gave her challenge.
It was slightly disappointing that none answered.
"You will be accompanie-"
"I need no companion."
"You do not know where to go."
Tera paused, ready to say, just in spite, that she would find it herself.
But Elrond, damnable elf, was right. This time at least. She wouldn't quite be able to have so much success engaging in a wild goose chase.
"Alright," she said slowly, "who will come with me?"
She felt the slight smirk before she saw it. Oh no, please not. . .
"Lord Glorfindel, of course. He will be your guide and partner."
Tera broke in with all haste.
"My lord I am sure a guide shall suffice."
"Be as that may, he shall go with you. Lord Glorfindel has. . .scores to settle."
Elves on a revenge hunt? Tera almost laughed.
"Really," she drawled, amusement evident in her voice even as she saw Glorfindel's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly.
"Yes, really," he said, voice low and growl apparent. His eyes, she saw with interest, had frozen coldly from calm, dark waters to white-blue ice. She tossed her head up with enough defiance to mask a slight. . .fear, only dimly aware of Elrond's watchful, almost interested gaze. She couldn't care. The challenge was laid, and she would answer.
I'll always answer. I have no choice.
"Sweet as that is, I need no elf slowing me down," she replied, hating the little tremor of foreboding that plagued her when his eyes froze further, letting the flame in her eyes burn her dread into an unnoticeable pile of ash.
"That may be, lady," his voice was cold and brittle, "but I will accompany you."
Her glare was wildfire and leaping flames, and she barely heard Elrond's cough. But she did, and she tore her gaze furiously away from the opposing elf to glare at him.
"I am afraid you have no choice, lady. I will spare no one but Lord Glorfindel." His voice was strong and conclusive, and Tera had to acknowledge its power.
Her chin was kept stubbornly up. A little snarl was still etched on her mouth. Her hands clenched visibly on the oaken table.
But she had no choice.
"So be it," she snarled softly, cape swept behind her as she slashed the chair backwards and stalked away, "we leave at dawn."
Tera awoke to the distant humming of nightfall and cricket, eyes flung open and heart hammering harshly. The same old nightmare haunted her always, for as long as she could remember.
Walls, dark walls, closing in around her. She couldn't see, couldn't think, couldn't breathe.
Why?
Oh, she knew the reason well enough. Her freedom was at stake. She was at Lord Elrond's whimsy. She knew not any way out. Already she was being forced against her will.
Idiot girl. Will you ever think?
She slipped quietly out of bed, preparing her travel gear before striding softly towards the stables. Reggie was always a comfort, a quiet protector. He was the only living being who was, and so she clung to him for her stability. All people had their stability pillars, be they friends or family or job, that kept them alive, sane, happy. Tera only had two. Her pride, and her horse.
And she wouldn't lie to herself. Two was not enough.
A grim smile crossed her features. Oh, she knew what she was. If anything, she prided her knowledge on what she was. Passionate, vengeful, hot-tempered, dark, defiant, proud. Fiercely loyal, dedicated, determined. She was a scrapper; she'd never give in. And yet her sanity hung by threads to such fickle things as life and pride.
There were fickler things, she supposed. Hope, for example. Love, as well.
"Reggie? Regs?"
A low whicker greeted her approach, and she crept to his stall to find him stretched lazily on the straw, coat gleaming but tail tangled with his bedding. She let her packs drop with a soft thud as she entered the stable.
"Sweetie, they groom you for a reason; to get you clean," she sighed as she curled up next to him. He smelled of herb and flower, and Tera knew instantly that the elves had given him so much more than a mere rubdown and grooming. A slight shame haunted her before she pushed it aside.
So I'll thank them later. So what?
So maybe you were a little rude, honey.
Shut up. It's not like I care.
Consciences could be quite the little flea.
She tried to glare at the early morning sky, but the musky scent of hay and horse was oddly soothing. Sleep crept softly to her, and it was too tempting to shove aside as she rested her head comfortably on Reggie's shoulder. It was near dawn, and Glorfindel would arrive in moments, but she wanted to have some time with her horse for a while.
It'll only be for a mome. . .
Glorfindel gazed quietly at horse and girl, careful not to disturb either.
Wasn't it strange how much younger she looked when she was asleep? She was, he realized, closer to nineteen than his assumption of twenty-eight. There was no belligerence in sleep, no untold nightmares or flame-bright anger. Just. . . just something almost akin to innocence on her face.
Well yes, maybe not quite innocence. But in sleep she didn't give the impression of a cornered cat, hiss and growl included. No, she radiated something different. Sadness. Not an intense, sharpened agony but a dull throb that was probably lost to everyone when placed beside that passionate defiance, or that blinding rage. Not for the first time, he wondered if she had no happiness in her life.
What had happened to her to make her grow so wary, so expectant of enemies? She had no friends, no family, no one but a raven steed that slightly resembled a crow. And she clung to that so fiercely that Glorfindel had begun to fear her sanity should she lose him.
He shook his head slightly. He had problems enough without the burden of her's. Sarn was lurking just beyond reach, and he had much to account for.
Rëathur, I promise you, you shall be avenged.
Silencing all thought of Tera, he spoke quietly in the silence of the stableyard.
"Lady?"
Even with her eyes shut he could see her awake. The immediate tensing of muscle. The slight panic on her face. The clenching of fist on mane. He could tell when she remembered her whereabouts, as Tera relaxed every-so-slightly, and slowly opened her eyes to face him.
Her straight length of hair fell tousled over her face and covered one of those wary, wary eyes. They were half shut but alert, and the elf wondered briefly in she ever quite relaxed. Probably not.
He stood, still as stone, as she stretch slowly, in a disturbingly feline manner.
"Mmmmm?" The thick, lazy question came like a heavy ladle of cream.
"We should be going," he replied woodenly, wondering what it was she did that made him react like. . . like a statue.
It is only her attitude. Not even one such as her should be so. . . immature. But let her not affect you, nonetheless. The task ahead has no place for any less than total concentration.
Tera leaped lightly to her feet, coming from sleep to complete awareness in a matter of moments. Her expression resumed its taught pride, and a slight scowl spoke of her embarrassment.
"Of course. I must apologize. I'd come prepared," she replied brusquely, reverting back to stubborn rebelliousness.
For a moment he regretted waking her. Just for a moment. Another wakeup call and the thought was over. They had a job to do. They would do it.
"Let us go, then."
