Here's the next. Thanks for reading so far and don't forget to let me know how you feel about it!
Chapter Six
Peace and darkness cover The Last Homely House like a soft blanket cuddling a small elfling in the night. Legolas stands in front of the door to his room, his elven hearing tuned for the slightest sounds, his senses for the merest movement. It has taken him longer to don his clothing than he expected, the severe injury and prolonged bed rest has taken its toll and he knows he is not functioning at full capacity yet cannot stand to wait any longer.
It has already been two days since the pillow fight but has taken that long to convince the three brothers that he does not need a night nurse any longer, thus this is the first night he has been left alone. He waits, highly attuned to his surroundings until he is confident that he is the only being in the house awake then quietly picks up his faithful bow, quiver and knife to position them in their usual comfortable home on his back and crosses the room to the glazed door that leads onto the balcony.
With one hand he gently pushes it open just wide enough to allow his slender form to pass through . The gauzy curtains billow into the room at the entrance of the night air, moving around him as if to arrest his departure and before he can pass out of the room a sudden bout of dizziness catches him unawares. Only by reaching out to take hold of the doors frame does he stop himself from stumbling over and getting tangled within the dancing fabric swirling around his unsteady form.
Mentally cursing his own body's failings he leans his head against the frame, waiting for the world to stop speeding past his eyes before moving slowly through the doorway and out into the cool night air as the spinning stops. Almost sighing with relief the elf takes a deep breath, inhaling the scents of nature that surround this peaceful place gratefully. His senses reach out to the trees and for a moment he looses himself to their soft, caressing thoughts. Feeling their relief at his recovery and the pleasure they take in his company. It has been too long since he did this.
A wood elf needs to spend time outside, to feel the elements, to be one with all nature has to offer and for Legolas this is especially true. He feels more at home perched at the top of a tree than anywhere else on middle earth. Reluctantly he reels in the urge to open his soul and give himself over to the green world that surrounds him, that would lull him to sleep and take him along dream paths with them whilst easing his wounded body and confused mind. He can not afford the time, movement must be swift whilst everyone else sleeps if he is to follow the plan he has prepared, albeit loosely, since the night of the pillow fight.
With lithe grace the prince steps up onto the stone railing that runs around the edge of the balcony and surveys the creeper that covers the wall beneath him. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he remembers the times that he and the young human adopted by the lord of the house have used this "escape route" in the past for a variety of reasons and he marvels at the fact that Elrond has not had the verdant growth cropped down before now.
Sending a silent message of thanks to the Valar he gracefully seats himself atop the railing then swings first one long leg, then the other over the edge and begins to make his way towards the ground below, a slight rustling of leaves the only thing to mark his passing. About half way to the bottom he lets go of his hold on the creeper, pushes off from the wall and twists in mid air to land effortlessly on the soft, springy turf beneath him. A grimace of pain flashes across his face only to instantly disappear as he regains control then unconsciously rubs the arrow wound on his chest which has complained about the unexpected exertion .
Another bout of dizziness threatens to lay claim to his equilibrium but he stubbornly refuses to give in, closing his eyes and breathing deeply through the swift attack for a couple of heartbeats only, then, taking a last look up towards the balcony he has just vacated, the elf turns and walks away swiftly into the night.
Moonbeams gently filter through the window of the room adjacent to that so recently left empty, caressing across the face of the young man held deep in dreams by the comfort of the safe and loving surroundings he calls home. Peace is written across his features at last after so many anxious days and nights. His mind and body now finding the much needed healing sleep required in response to the recent traumatic events which have held nerves wound as tight as a bow string.
With the welcomed recovery of his closest friend that tension has finally eased and his subconscious has finally been allowed to find rest. Even his dreams are now peaceful, the guilt induced nightmares so recently plaguing his nights being chased away by fonder memories of happier times. He smiles softly and turns over in his sleep, snuggling deeper under the covers like a small animal burrowing into a nest blissfully unaware of the pain and despair that lies ahead waiting to swoop down once more and carry him off on wings of heartache into a cold and bitter night from which he will need all his strength to escape.
As Legolas gradually lengthens his graceful stride he reviews the little he knows about the attack in which he sustained his injuries. He is unsettled by the fact that all he has to go on has been learned second hand from others, however trusted they are. His sense of recall still fails him and this tugs at his very core. Try as he might his memories, usually as vivid as real life, seem to be intent on remaining out of reach, evading every attempt he makes at trying to grasp at and pin them down. He only certainties he has to cling to are that his body was pierced by two arrows leaving the marks to prove it and that the fletching of those same two arrows is as familiar to him as that of his own. He had recognised them as soon as Estel placed them on the table by his bed.
"Why Lhosson? The whisper faint and full of anguish. " What have I done to you to merit this?"
His heart aches for the answer that his mind is not sure it wants to hear. Guilt nibbles at the edges of his thoughts as he mulls over the reasons he has told no one of his recognizance, not even Estel from whom he can usually keep no secret. He tells himself that it is because he is unsure but knows deep down that this is a lie. The truth he is trying to stifle is that if he can not trust his own memories how can others. Maybe he deserved the assault. How can he be certain that he is not reaping the reward of something he himself has sown. That he may have brought dishonour to his father, his home and his friends by some unremembered action does not sit well with the proud elf and he would not let those whose love and honour he values above all else see him unveiled as a fraud, a being without integrity or repute.
As his mind wanders down these unwelcome paths the blonde archer fails to notice the soft whispers from the trees as they try to alert him to the fact that he is not alone. Senses dulled by the fear in his heart of what he will uncover do not pick up the slight rustling in the treetops or vague, shadowy movements that betray another's presence, signs that only an elf would notice and a very alert elf at that. It is not until his foot tangles with a tree root and he finds himself ungracefully sprawled face down in the grass that he becomes aware of his surroundings. A dwarfish curse spits from tight lips as he rubs a tender knee.
" Fine wood elf you are!" he berates himself. " Tis a good job Estel is not here, he would never let me live that down, a wood elf tripping over a tree root!"
Smiling at the thought of his friends reaction he regains his feet to continue the journey halted in such an ignominious fashion then stiffens as he finally becomes aware of the message from the trees surrounding him. Faster than thought his bow is taken in hand and an arrow nocked ready for flight. Senses that should have been screaming out to be noticed before now suddenly spring into action and he stands, poised on a knife edge, knowing danger is near but not from whence it will come. Calmness overtakes all else, eyes sharpen and darken and breathing slows whilst readying for the hidden foe to make the first move. He waits.