Hi!
You guys ready for this up and down rollercoaster of Stella's emotions? Not to give much away, but there are some feels here.
Yayyyyyyyyyyyyyy :)
Another thing, to all who commented: THANK YOU. I cannot express in words how excited and happy I was that some of you were enjoying Stella's story enough to say so. It really made my day.
Okay, and one last thing, I PROMISE: I apologize if this chapter seems to be a little short or lacking. Some parts of the ending were accidentally cut and I had to rewrite them from memory before continuing on with uploading.
With that said, enjoy :)
Disclaimer: I don't own The Lord of The Rings or anything affiliated with J.R.R Tolkien's work.
It was almost sunset when Stella trekked to the training grounds, itching to shoot some arrows and practice her swordplay after sitting for so long at the council.
She could hardly believe it herself when Frodo offered to take the the Ring to Mordor. It made her feel sick to her stomach, but no matter how much Stella disagreed with the young hobbit's decision, she knew there was nothing she could do to change his mind. For such small and jolly creatures, hobbits were surly very stubborn.
"If he refuses to listen, at least I can look out for him along the way," thought Stella, picking up her weapon.
Sliding her fingers over the perfectly carved bow, Stella notched a sharpened arrow. She squinted at the wooden target, running the inside of her index finger over the feathered end. Time seemed to slow around her, and the only sound she heard was the pulse of blood in her ears. She waited a full heartbeat before releasing the notched arrow, sending the flying object to hit it's mark dead in the center of the target. The elf girl smiled to herself.
Shot after shot was fired, each hitting the center mark. Stella felt adrenaline coursing through her veins, as it typically does when she trains and fights. Shooting did not require her to think, it just required her to act.
"You have extremely impressive aim," a voice said behind her. Stella whirled, weapon pointed at the source of the voice.
At the sight of Legolas, the blonde elf, she lowered her weapon, an apologetic smile on her face. But before she could open her mouth, he spoke.
"I apologize. I shouldn't have startled you like that," he said. "You just have particularly fine skills with your weapon."
"Thank you," Stella said, smiling genuinely. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before motioning to the targets. "Do you shoot?"
His lips twitched up ever so slightly. "A little, yes."
Stella held out her bow, motioning for him to take it. Legolas waltzed forward, placing his fingers gently around the bow as if it was made of glass. After he had a firm grasp on it, Stella plucked an arrow from her quiver and placed it in Legolas's opposite hand.
The blonde elf notched the weapon and, with a quick flick of his fingers, the arrow buried itself deep inside the wood, smack dab in the center.
Stella cocked an eyebrow. "Only a little, hm?"
Legolas grinned, a sight that Stella had a feeling not many people saw that often. Even if he was never-aging, his smile made him look years younger. The thought struck her as odd.
"Perhaps a bit more than a little," said Legolas, shrugging nonchalantly. Stella laughed incredulously. The elf man knitted his brow in confusion at her outburst of laughter.
"I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. "It's just...you are very modest at something you're clearly very good at."
"Indeed, I can be modest," he agreed, tilting his head mildly at her. "But I do not think many appreciate someone who makes a big fuss over their skills."
"You are correct. However, you're also wrong," Stella grinned in her 'I-know-something-that-you-don't' way.
Legolas knitted his brow again. "How so?"
"Bragging rights," Stella said simply, as if she was just remarking on the weather.
"Br...bragging rights?" he asked, utterly puzzled by the new term.
"Yeah," The elleth said simply, slinging her quiver off her back. "It's like when you do something correct or really well, you get to boast about it for a while. It comes in handy when you win at a competition."
Legolas, who was listening intently at her words, furrowed his brow and placed his hands on his hips. "So, these, ah, bragging rights would work if we were to, I suppose, shoot in a small competition?"
A sly side smile spread on Stella's face. "Are you challenging me to a shooting contest so that you can win and gain bragging rights?"
"Perhaps," he said, a grin still set in place on his lips.
Stella's eyes narrowed playfully. She rubbed her finger on the feathers of the arrows, dramatically pausing for effect. She opened her mouth to tell him she accepted and to be prepared for a serious bum-kicking, but before she got the chance, a throat was cleared from behind the blonde elf. Legolas stepped aside to reveal a tall elf man dressed in a velvet cloak and long brown hair.
"Pardon me, my Prince," a tall elf man spoke in Sindarin, bowing lowly. For a moment, Stella thought that this elf man was just a little mixed up. Then, the realization dawned on her and Stella's eyes widened a fraction of an inch.
Legolas was elven royalty. And she just taught him what bragging rights were.
Out of the corner of her eye, Stella peered at the prince, who's smile was long gone by now. What was left was what she could probably assume as princely composure. If the ground could reach up and swallow her whole, she didn't think she would particularly mind at the moment.
"Yes, Galu?" Legolas asked, his voice controlled and slightly demanding.
"Lord Elrond has called an evening meal for all the members of the council. Lord Aragorn had suggested that you may be here and sent me to request your presence," the tall elf, Galu, said, bowing lowly again. Stella did not miss how his eyes flicked from Legolas to her in almost a scrutinizing way.
"Of course," Legolas responded cooly Galu nodded, and strode back from where he entered, his back pin straight. The prince turned to Stella, who was already packing up her weapon and it's essentials.
"We shall take our leave, then," Legolas nodded, directing his stare to the fallen leaves in front of him to avoid any eye contact with Stella. He wasn't quite sure he wanted to see the look on the elf girl's face. She would probably bow and profusely apologize for 'speaking out of turn' or something silly of that nature.
Yes, the royal treatment was nice, but it was also a tad stifling. Legolas was bred to command, to lead, and to act as cordially as possible. He was bowed to, listened to, and after centuries of being called "My Lord" or "Your Highness", Legolas had gotten used to it.
But that didn't necessarily meant he liked it.
He started forward, but was caught off guard by Stella's short laugh. She shook her head, snorting a little. Legolas stared at her, slightly bewildered and unsure what exactly he should do.
Slinging her weapon further up on her shoulder, the still giggling elf waltzed past the stunned prince. "Come back at noon, tomorrow. I trust you have your own bow."
Legolas didn't answer. Stella took that as a yes. "Good. And don't think just because you're royalty, I'll go easy on you. Until later, Your Highness."
With one more fox-like grin and a small bow, Stella swaggered off, leaving Legolas unmoving in her wake.
For a few minutes, the elven Prince just stood there, hanging his hands loosely at his sides. His thoughts were crowded with the enigmatic elleth with a likeness towards archery and bragging rights.
A smile found it's way onto his face as he scuffled over the leaves and exited the training grounds.
By the time Stella had strode into the commons, the dinner had already commenced.
As she approached the long table, an elven servant hurried forward, taking her bow and quiver before she could protest. She had no problem with placing her weapons away herself, yet the elven maids never gave her the chance. Pursing her lips, Stella then slid into a chair in between Frodo and Aragorn, bracing herself for the brutal teasing she's have to endure.
"And at last she arrives," Aragorn playfully scolded. "Late, as per usual."
"Oh, eat your greens, you royal pain in the rear," Stella narrowed her eyes, sipping the fine elvish wine from her goblet. Aragorn laughed heartily and Frodo, who had listened in on the exchange, choked on his bread. Stella thumped him on the back.
"Aye, laddie, careful there," Gimli rumbled from across the table. "We can't be havin' our Ringer-bearer choking ta death."
"Yes, I do not wish to give you the Hiemlich maneuver. It did not go well last time," Stella said, pointedly looking at Aragorn over her cup. The Ranger conveniently avoided her accusatory glance.
"The...hiem—what?" Frodo asked, very confused and a little concerned. Gimli slammed his goblet against the wooden table.
"Elvish sorcery, that is what!" he declared loudly. A few elves around them rolled their eyes in irritation, but Stella smiled, amused.
"Ah, not quite, Lord Gimli," she corrected, spearing some leafy greens onto her fork. Gimli looked a little thrown by her neutral and utterly respectful tone. Any other elf would simply retort back in their annoyingly proper way. "It is something I learned back home before I left. Vital to survival especially in dire situations."
Stella stuck the fork of greens into her mouth. Gimli just stared and Frodo fought to contain his laughter.
"Ah, Legolas," Aragorn said, clearing his throat in a poor attempt not to laugh at the current situation. He too was containing his amusement, yet he did not think it wise to laugh in front of the dwarf. "It is nice of you to join us."
Stella peered through her eye lashes at the blonde elf who swiftly sat in his chair across from Aragorn. Gimli wrinkled his nose and shifted away ever so slightly. He looked as if he had smelled rotten milk.
"My apologies, I was at the shooting range with all intention in returning early, but I became a little too invested," Legolas responded, cordially. From over her cup of wine, Stella tried not to laugh.
'Yeah, invested my arse,' she thought. 'You were too busy showing off and then challenging me just to brag about your oh-so-impressive archery skills.'
"Ah, then perhaps you ran into Stella while you were there. Not only does she arrive late, but she tends to make others late as well," Aragorn smirked, throwing a sideways glance at his elven companion who coughed in to her wine.
"I do NOT. The only reason we were late for that silly banquet thing because you insisted on buying that horse," protested Stella, setting down her goblet, glaring. "And, if you must be so nosy as to ask, he and I didn't even cross paths."
Aragorn 'tsked', shaking his head. "Then how rude of you to not introduce yourself."
Stella opened her mouth to retort, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her from doing so. She turned to see Haradion, a elven guardsman, standing above her.
"Lady Stella, I believe Lord Elrond requests your presence after you finish with your meal," Haradion reported formally. Stella wiped her mouth with a napkin hurriedly.
"Oh, no, I was just finishing anyway. I can go now," Stella said, pushing back her chair and standing. Haradion wrinkled his brow ever so slightly.
"Lord Elrond is meeting with Lord Gandalf at this moment. Perhaps you should wait," the Elf Guard protested, placing a hand out to stop her from walking.
"I'm sure it will be alright," Stella argued, waving her hand dismissively. She turned to the men, who were all staring at her oddly. "If you will excuse me, gentlemen."
Stella spun, skillfully skirting Haradion's outstretched hand and made her way across the floor and up the stairway briskly. The fading sunlight of the evening cast elongated shadows on the pillars as she turned down a few corridors before coming close to Lord Elrond's study. The door was cracked, light flooding onto the darkened marble.
Stella slowed as she approached, for the voices on the other side of the door were hushed and frantic. The tips of her ears perked and she pressed herself to the wall to hear better. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but as soon as her name was uttered, she knew she had to stay put.
"...And after all this time, she still does not know? It has been nearly eight hundred years since she was taken from this land and placed in the one of mortals. Have you not thought to tell her?" Lord Elrond whispered
Gandalf's reply was cross. "Of course I have! But she only believes herself to be a simple age of twenty-six, still much too young to understand!"
"She will if you just tell her. Stella has grown over the many years you have known her, and is now a very lovely young elf with a clear conscious. She may be rash at times, but she will understand your reasoning."
"I wish I can believe you, but how am I supposed to tell her that she was given up? That her mother faded after her father did not survive in battle?"
Stella felt like she was doused in a bucket of ice water. Her body sagged against the wall, eyes stinging. She had always grasped on to the thoughts of her family still out there somewhere. When she would be sent from foster home to foster home, Stella would stay awake at night and stare into the darkness, dreaming of her mother and father, welcoming her with open arms. And with that small hope torn away...she had never felt so defeated.
Taking a sharp breath, Stella stood. Her parents were gone. But that was not what made her upset. Gandalf knew her parents were no longer alive, yet he never thought to tell her. He let her believe she had someone, anyone, waiting for her. Stella's hands were shaking as she clenched them into fists. A hot, boiling feeling rose from the pit of her stomach, through her bloodstream and spread like wildfire all over her body. The elleth's vision went red around the edges.
Fuming, and not entirely thinking straight, Stella threw open the door. This ultimately gained the attention o the conversing men immediately, their eyes widening.
"You knew," Stella choked out. "You knew this whole time and didn't tell me?"
"Estella, please—"
"No," she said forcefully, shaking her head. "No, Gandalf. No more secrets. You told me that I had a home, I had a family. And this entire time, you lied and I believed?"
The girl scoffed, biting the inside of her cheek and staring at the two in utter disbelief. "You know, when I got sent to those horrendous foster homes, I used to stay awake at night and think about the family I never had. I was taunted and abused, but the only thing that I held onto was what you told me. What you always told me. The other kids called me crazy because I could see a grey wizard and they couldn't, but even that didn't discourage me from feeling like a day old sandwich someone just tossed away. Doesn't matter now, thought, does it?"
Gandalf's eyes were sad. Down in some part of her heart, Stella knew she was being unreasonable, that she should just let him explain. But the anger, sadness, and desperation claimed the upper hand in this situation.
"Excuse me," Stella said. And, without another word, she spun out the door and into the hallway, eyes welling with unshed tears.
Poor Stella. And poor Gandalf.
Their friendship is terribly rocky at the moment.
Okay, Fun Fact Time: As I gave this to Jo to edit in band practice one morning, she finished the chapter with two things to say about it:
1) She practically swooned over what we call the "Lella" scenes (AKA, Legolas and Stella. They probably need a better name, but we just quickly came up with it without much extra thought )
2) She asked me if Stella and Gandalf would make up before he "dies". (To that, I just shrugged and smiled. It kinda drove her bonkers)
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! In the next chapter, I will try to make it lengthier, but it will definitely be intriguing.
Read and Comment, please!
Peace out, Girl Scout :)
-Halesie