Hello strangers! So happy to finally post a new chapter! I'm looking forward to finishing these next few chapters and moving on to more of Shyloh's story. Thanks for your patience when it comes to posting and thank you for the wonderful comments, reviews, and messages. Also, hello to all you new followers!
-S
- Chapter 72 -
Tea in Osbeth's chambers had been an interesting affair throughout the next couple of days, and as always, Shyloh suffered through party after party. Lady Lastril of course had been at each one; a silent entity in the room, one that absolutely refused to engage in any sort of conversation directed at Shyloh herself. However, she more than willingly discussed political matters Shyloh was extremely unfamiliar with, especially since she herself had not lived among the elves of the Woodland Realm. She tried not to feel embarrassed by her lack of knowledge with political issues around the world, so when another elleth inquired about her personal opinion, Shyloh unfortunately had no choice but to claim defeat on that topic.
Lady Lastril's smug expression could have probably been seen as far as Rivendell, and she had no problem gloating during each and every party. Finally, on Legolas's third day of absence from the halls, Shyloh's patience and temperament were running on empty. If she had to suffer through one more party after today, she was going to pull Lastril's hair out, no matter how warm and welcoming Lady Osbeth and the other ladies were being.
There was definitely an ulterior motive to Lady Osbeth's parties that Shyloh was quickly catching onto. Each time the group got together, Lady Osbeth boasted all about the gorgeous gown Shyloh was wearing, ones that were far superior in style and design than even Lastril's. Then, she'd go on and on about how fortunate the princess was to have traveled so far and wide. Lastril of course, didn't fail to mention that Shyloh was an elf that traveled for months on end with dwarves, which wasn't really earning the princess any brownie points.
Aside from that, it was like Lady Osbeth was attempting to compete with Lastril. She'd shoot her smug looks or brush aside her input and act as if Lastril didn't exist, but of course, Lastril did the same. It was clear the two elves disliked each other.
But Lastril was not to be ousted.
"For someone who claims to be the future Queen of the woodland Realm, you know so little about life here," Lastril commented dryly. The elleth absolutely refused to be discouraged by Osbeth's attempts at dislodging any kind of negative conversations.
Shyloh stiffened as all eyes turned to her expectantly. "I have never once laid claim to that statement, Lady Lastril. Nor has anyone else that I am aware of."
"On the contrary, you claim to be Ernil Legolas's soulmate," she countered. "And he is the future of the Woodland Realm. If you are truly his soulmate, do you not think topics of diplomacy are important to learn? How can you help rule this kingdom if you know so little about it?"
She had Shyloh there, and as her mouth went dry and the murmurs of agreement were being whispered, she seriously wished she paid more attention to such things. However, she hadn't.
"It is my understanding that King Thranduil has done a remarkable job ruling. He seems fair and just, and I highly doubt he's anxious to step down from his throne anytime soon. I've never lived in this realm, Lady Osbeth, for more than a few short days at a time and even then, we were on the brink of war, and dragons were breathing fire and wreaking havoc. How can you ask me such questions, when the future of Middle-earth itself is balancing on such a sharp edge? I wasn't aware you could predict the future my Lady."
The corners of her lips twitched and the smile on her face faded just the slightest.
There were murmurs of agreement on Shyloh's argument as well, but Lastril only smiled. "I can ask such questions because I, much like others here, care about their future within these halls."
"Of course, you care, and so do I, but I am afraid I can't make you any promises. Because contrary to your beliefs, I cannot tell you what will happen tomorrow or in fifty years. Not even a hundred years. Where life will take Legolas and I, I cannot say either. The only thing I am capable of – and you'll have to forgive me for saying so – is living in the moment. I've seen how quickly lives can change in the blink of an eye, how fast your life can spiral out of control and how quickly you can lose everything. I will treasure the here and now and pray for a better future for all."
Lastril narrowed her eyes. "I may not be able to depict the future, Princess, but I can tell you what has transpired since your last departure from these halls. It was I, not you, that traveled with Ernil Legolas to Erebor to discuss trade and establish new agreements with King Thorin."
Lady Osbeth stiffened next to Shyloh. "Ernil Legolas was originally requested to hold the negotiations with the King Under the Mountain by King Thranduil, Lastril, not you."
"Of course, he was," Lastril agreed. "But it was requested that I personally attend. I made quite the connections with the king's sister, and the trade agreements Ernil Legolas and I established have been successful and benefiting to our Realm. We even have agreements with the king of Dale."
Shyloh's chest squeezed tightly, and her stomach rolled. Lastril was bound and determined to crawl underneath her skin, that much was clear. However, even if what Lastril said was true and the two of them did travel to Erebor to discuss alliances with Thorin, there was no way Shyloh was going to let the she-elf make her feel jealous.
She knew how Legolas felt about the she-elf with honey colored brown hair, whose beauty easily ousted everyone else in the room. He'd told her on several occasions he held no interest in her but despite that, there was a tiny part of Shyloh that felt insecure.
Then she straightened her spine. She was a princess, not just a lady like Lastril and the others. Shyloh shook her head with disappointment. She was done with the she-elf and her childish behavior. For the last few days, she did her best not to let her belittling get to her but enough was enough. She was acting no better than the maids that were so harsh toward her during Shyloh's first visit to these halls.
It was time to set the record straight. She wasn't going to be pushed around.
"Lady Lastril, while I am glad you and Lord Legolas were able to establish such healthy connections with Erebor and Dale, your attempts to bait me are tiring. I'm not interested in listening to you belittle those around you anymore," Shyloh said as she stood from her seat. Out of respect for her position, the other ladies followed suit and stood, bowing their heads. Lastril remained seated though, and her smile faded quickly from her lips. "Lady Osbeth, thank you for the invite."
"Of course, my Lady," Osbeth said with a small smile. Whatever was going on between the two elves wasn't something Shyloh wished to be a part of any longer. She was not going to be used as a pawn in any sort of scheme or play for dominance.
"Spoken like a queen," someone murmured behind her, but Shyloh wasn't paying attention to whom.
"My Lady?" Arossel muttered quietly as they reached the corridors.
"Not now, please," Shyloh mumbled. Like a faithful friend, Arossel fell quietly into step with her, and they made it back to the royal wing without further discussion.
She wasn't trying to be rude, but right now she just wanted some alone time. However, Arossel wasn't going to let herself be ditched anytime soon.
"I will draw you a bath, my Lady," the maid said as she fluttered past into Shyloh's private bathroom.
"Actually," Shyloh sighed with defeat. "A bath sounds really nice."
Arossel smiled. "I do not blame you for being stressed, my Lady. They are oftentimes a difficult group to get deal with."
Shyloh pressed her lips into a thin line. "It wouldn't have been so bad if Lastril had kept her opinions on my serious lack of knowledge about the Woodland Realm to herself."
Arossel grimaced. "Try not to let her bother you so much, Princess. She longs for something that she can never have. Perhaps one day she will find her soulmate and she will understand the connection you and the prince have."
"She's not wrong though," Shyloh murmured quietly. "I know so little about this realm."
Arossel straightened and frowned. "You are young, my Lady, too young to know so much about a place you have only visited during times of distress and despair. Lady Lastril has lived here her whole life and you have not. Do not be so hard on yourself."
Shyloh dropped her gown and stepped into the tub while Arossel had her back turned to fetch the soaps. Despite living in Arda for several years now, she doubted she'd ever be completely used to being naked in front of another.
It was just weird.
Lathering up her hair, Arossel helped her bathe as she hummed a soft melody that was actually quite pleasant. It was gentle and flowing and somehow helped ease the tension she felt within her.
"What song is that?" Shyloh asked quietly.
"It was one my mother taught me when I was but a child," Arossel said gently. "She has since sailed to the Undying lands. I look forward to being reunited with her one day."
Shyloh's head dipped toward her chest, and she looked down into the bubbles, attempting to ease the pang of sadness that welled up inside her chest. "Do you miss her?"
Arossel tilted her head and smiled fondly. "Yes. She and my father sailed after the death of my brother during the Battle of Dagorlad."
"That was the battle that claimed King Oropher, right?"
Arossel nodded sadly. "Yes. Many lives were lost that day."
"I'm sorry about your brother."
"It was many years ago but thank you."
Shyloh drew in a deep breath. "I did not mean to sour the mood any more than it already was."
Arossel laughed softly. "My brother did not fear death. He lived a good, honest, and full life. He knew the risks when he became a warrior. We all did. Those were dark times we lived in."
Shyloh remained quiet as Arossel rinsed her hair. If the rumors were true and a darkness was growing in the south, perhaps the darkest of times was yet to come.
Drawing her legs up beneath her, Shyloh engrossed herself in the book she randomly picked out from the many shelves in the library. After declining the invite to yet another party in Lady Osbeth's quarters, Shyloh determined there was no way she could suffer through another one. Instead, she made the trek to Lady Osbeth's quarters personally to inform her she would be unable to attend as she planned on spending the day in the library.
After Lastril's performance yesterday, there was no way Shyloh could stomach the she-elf again so soon. Lady Osbeth seemed to understand, though there was a brief flash of disappointment in her eyes at the news.
The library was definitely one of Shyloh's favorite places. It was one where Arossel could keep an eye on her without hovering like a mother hen. Right now, in fact, the maid was across the vast space talking with a few other ladies that were lingering in the library.
Shyloh got a few looks as she passed through the shelves, but thankfully no one stopped her as she sought out something to read. The corner was an excellent place away from everyone else where she could sit quietly and be alone, except her mind refused to settle down.
She was anxious for reasons she couldn't understand, and as she tapped into the tiny link that connected her with Legolas, she found him quiet and distant. She chewed on the inside of her lip and turned the page of the book without even reading it.
The hair on the back of her neck stood up.
"Even the library holds no peace for you it seems," a voice said from behind her.
Her spine tingled with unpleasant anticipation. She recognized that voice.
Stepping around the lounge chair stuffed with soft pillows and covered in a soft blanket where she sat, Lord Iamben's eyes glared down at her. Her body stiffened and her eyes darted over to where Arossel had been standing only a moment ago, except she was now gone.
She subconsciously felt the blade she kept on her ankle that Legolas insisted she wear at all times and shifted her other foot against it, as if she needed to reassure herself that it was still there.
"I mean you no harm, Princess," Iamben said as if he could read her mind. He sank down into a chair opposite Shyloh and let his hands dangle off the armrests. He crossed one knee over the other and gave her a tight smile.
"Lord Iamben," she said stiffly. "What a pleasant surprise."
"Indeed." He quirked an eyebrow.
"What brings you to the library on this fine day?" she wondered dryly.
"You do, Princess."
Shyloh closed the book and smoothed her skirts over her feet as they touched the floor, and she sat up straight. "And how can I help you?"
"How truly dreadful it must be for you to once again be treated as a prisoner here." He ignored her question.
She tilted her head curiously. "I wasn't aware I was a prisoner. In that case, I have been treated fairly well."
"Your quarters are once again watched by a guard day and night, not to mention you have guards tailing you at every turn, though you may not know it. Lady Arossel is loyal to a fault to King Thranduil, yet she appears to be skirting her duties at the moment."
Guards were following her every move? That was news to her, but if he was referring to the guards posted at the entrance to the royal wing, then weren't they always stationed there?
"She has been a good friend during my time here," Shyloh said defensively yet as politely as possible. It was hard to keep her temper and sanity in check when the elf was around.
"I would hardly call a spy of the king a good friend, Princess, she is simply doing her job," Iamben stated. His eyes narrowed and he raised his chin slightly. "I myself have been dying for a moment to speak with you in private. Such is my luck that I find you here of all places. Alone."
Shyloh's mouth went dry. "I can't imagine we have anything to discuss."
"Oh, we have many things to talk about, but here and now is only reserved for certain things."
She drew in a slow breath. "Well then perhaps you'll forgive me if I ask you get to the point."
His eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. "My daughter was not wrong yesterday when she stated you knew very little about the life we lead here. You are ill equipped for the role being presented to you."
"I am afraid I am not quite clear on what that role is exactly."
"Exactly my point, Princess, you are not clear on what it is this kingdom needs. Leaders are born, they are not made. Your bloodlines would suggest you were born to be a leader, a ruler, an image to look up to yet you are none of those things."
Shyloh bit back the sting that crept into her bones by his blunt words. She had to remember that he was always going to try to knock her down a few pegs just like his daughter, but unlike Lastril, Iamben has been playing this game far longer.
"Lord Elrond has all the faith in the world in you it appears, as does King Thranduil, but I am not fooled. I can see right through you, Princess. You are weak and you will fail. Go back to Imladris where you belong."
"I would take your words to heart if they mattered, Lord Iamben, but they don't. I would trust the words of Lord Elrond and of King Thranduil before I trusted yours."
His face reddened slightly with anger and his eyes hardened. A muscle twitched in his jaw. "Knowledge is of the past, young elf, and wisdom is of the future. I watched how an outsider nearly destroyed the future of this kingdom when she married our king. Her death almost destroyed him and our realm. Your fate will be no different. You will destroy him and in turn, you will destroy us all."
Before she could respond, he stood up and disappeared from the library, but she didn't see him go. Instead, her eyes were trained on the spot he previously occupied and for the longest time she sat there. Her mind repeated his words over and over in her head, the book in her lap long forgotten.
She shouldn't let his words get to her, she knew better than to let him get into her head, but it was so difficult. He must have been referring to King Thranduil and is late wife. Had she been an outsider like Shyloh? Had she come from different lands when she first laid eyes upon the king? They were soulmates and bonded at first sight, much like Shyloh and Legolas did. Maybe Iamben was right.
Already Legolas was forced to come to her aid on more than one occasion. Would that be the case for the rest of their lives? Diving headfirst into battle like he did at Erebor and then racing to find her on the plains along the Anduin. He delivered her safely to the hands of the Galadhrim but not before risking his own life in the process.
It wasn't her fault they were attacked on their journey south to Lorien and she was separated, but it was her lack of training and experience that hurt her the most. A skilled warrior would have been able to make the journey alone or at least, found their way to safety.
While living in Lorien and training with the Galadhrim had improved her skills and knowledge exponentially, she was still nowhere near the experienced warrior Legolas was. Nor would she probably ever be.
She couldn't lie, Iamben's words cut her deeply and she absolutely hated that he affected her like he did. Between him and Lastril, the two were quite the pair, both eager to point out her flaws and dig their nails into her whenever they were able.
Well, they were doing a good job.
But were they so desperate to control every situation that they would infiltrate the letters between herself and Legolas? Were they the ones behind the headaches that were taking place right now? Her gut told her neither of them could be trusted, whether they were involved or not. She hoped King Thranduil would have given her some news by now, but so far, she'd heard nothing about any of it, even when she asked.
Her self-esteem just took a hit. Perhaps if Iamben and Lastril had such little faith in her, others did as well but just weren't quite so verbal about it. Then again, others might not be so desperate to lay claim to certain titles like the two of them were. Lastril wanted a title she didn't deserve, but Shyloh wasn't exactly deserving of it either.
Her head was spinning, and she pressed a hand to her forehead.
"My Lady," a male voice said in elvish. "Are you ill?"
Looking up at the fair face of a dark haired ellon, Shyloh blinked.
"I'm sorry?" she blurted.
He frowned down at her then reached his fingertips out to touch her shoulder as if she needed steadying. "I asked if you were ill. I can send someone to fetch Galdiron if need be. You look rather pale."
She blinked again and shook her head, then squeezed her eyes closed. "No, no, I'm fine. Really, but thank you. It's not necessary."
He didn't look convinced as he straightened and looked down at her. "If you are certain?"
"Yes," she nodded. "Thank you."
His lips formed a thin line. "As you wish."
He left and Shyloh's shoulders slumped. "Damn," she muttered under her breath. A moment later, she spotted the same ellon having words with Arossel and she frowned. When their eyes flicked over to Shyloh with concern, she knew immediately he was talking about her.
Well, shit.