AN: Hey guys thank you so much for the love, I'm glad that my story is being read :) I was originally not going to write this chapter, I had another one ready, and then I realized that it NEEDED to be written. So Ive tried a new POV too.
also, I've changed my mind. I thought long and hard and I decided that this was also going to be a romance story, because poor Alysea deserves some love too. It's not going to be a major part of this story, but it's going to be there. I have two people in mind, and in the end, it's going to be up to you guys. Anyways
MustardLady: the fact that you said you almost cried made me feel so satisfied of myself — sorry! ;) maybe this chapter is going to make you cry too... This story is going to be a long one, so take a seat and buckle ur seatbelt! Is going to be tough;)
the8horcrux: Yess! No typos this time! Also, ikr it's so annoying. I mean, why would Elrond ever say yes to Alysae going? That's super unrealistic.
Annabel Jones: I'm glad you think so, I'm trying to add more depth to Alysae's character but that's hard. Also I guess I can say it here cuz it's kinda obvious, but yes, she is going to go to Lothlórien in the end. Thanks ;)
EmmaCBlackstairs: do you ever review anything else than "great chapter?" Just kidding, I still love you, mellon ;)
. . . Chapter 7- Worries . . .
.~.
"Life is the art of dying."
- Atticus
.~.
-xxx-
Alysae sat with her back against the large trunk of a tree, her legs folded under her. Aragorn has his legs on either side of a great root as he puffed on his pipe. The Sun shone bright and clear, basking the world in a warm embrace. Newly-turned golden leaves detached themselves gently off branches before fluttering down around them, casting a soft carpet on the floor.
Alysea observed the ranger siting beside her; his straight nose, determined gray eyes, and the stubble that graced his jaw and cheeks. He was the only one of them all not to treat her as thought she were a mere child. He spoke and acted as though she was responsible and capable of making her own decisions, and for that, she was grateful.
As if he could sense her eyes on him, Aragorn turned his head towards her. "Still haven't got a clue on what happened yesterday?" he asked.
She shook her head. Gandalf had been extremely cryptic and had refused to answer her question, following what happened when she had touched the ring. It had left her all completely frustrated, and more than a little shaken.
"I do not understand," she said. "Mithrandir refuses to give voice to my questions, and goes even as far as to elude me."
Aragorn offered her a comforting smile. "I am confident you will find all the answers in due time."
She shrugged. "I hope so too." Then, she sobered. "I feel as though my... my vision with the Ring is somehow connected with the mystery surrounding my past."
Aragorn stared at her intently, as if trying to read through her. It was a little unnerving. "Do you not have a clue? Not even the faintest memory...?"
She interrupted him with a huff. "You know very well I do not remember anything of my life before I was found. It still has not changed."
"Peace, Alysae," Aragorn smiled. "I did not wish to annoy you. It is just... something Gandalf has said."
"What did he say that has got you intrigued?" she asked, curious and irritated at the same time. "Anything Mithrandir has said to me these past twenty four hours has been cryptic, to say the least."
"It is only... one thing. He said, 'forgotten memories, buried', did he not? He spoke as though what you saw was an event that had truly taken place," said Aragorn.
Alysae felt her eyes widen. "You think I experienced someone else's memories? Something that happened long ago?"
Aragorn nodded grimly. "Everything is possible."
"But that is terrible!" she cried, distressed. "I have no wish to see anything of the sort again! Mangled bodies, blood, so much blood..." She shuddered. "I'd never seen the likes of it before."
"It is normal to be horrified, Alysae," said Aragorn. "You have never seen true battle before."
"And I never wish to!"
Aragorn took a long puff out of his pipe, releasing a slow stream of smoke. "Let us speak of lighter topics, now, so that our hearts may be lifted."
Alysae glanced at his wooden pipe, remembering a time, long ago for her, and yet which was probably nothing to the Ranger. When she had been twelve, she had asked him if she could try his pipe. Of course he had said no. She had been twelve years old after all. She had begged and pleaded, until he had said yes, arguing that she was old enough, and that anyways it was only going to be a draw. Finally, he had relented.
It had been the biggest mistake of her life. Her lungs had burned with a fire from within, and she had coughed and coughed, so hard she could barely breathe. Lord Elrond had tended to her, and she had received a serious scolding from both him and her brother. Aragorn had also been the subject of indignant speeches. She had promised to never try it again.
She should have been horrified and ashamed, yet something had elated her, and she found herself growing fonder of the ranger. Yes, the whole thing had been a bad idea and a mistake, but it had been her mistake. For the first time, she had been allowed to do something on her own, and regret the consequences of her own action. And for that she had been grateful.
"I agree," she said.
-xxx-
The two cousins started bickering amongst themselves, and Frodo rolled his eyes. Alysae was grateful for the interruption, as the attention was now off her. However, as all turned to the two fighting Hobbits, she was left alone with her thoughts.
The question now was: Lothlórien or not? It was the best decision to make, she knew this. However, should the Lady's healing be unsuccessful, she would be too far from her father's kingdom to come back. She would... she would die away from home. But, should she do nothing, she would most likely fade away, into the Woodland Realm, under the very eyes of her helpless father. No, she could not do this. She would much rather take her chance and hope for the best. As of for telling her brother... she still had to go through it.
"Alysae?"
She blinked. "Yes?" All five Hobbits had stopped eating and were staring at her.
"You zoned out on us," said Merry.
"I was merely thinking about the Council yesterday, is all," she said.
"Oh," said Sam. "Well I don't blame you. That was terrible business, terrible if I dare say!"
"Indeed," said Bilbo. "And may we never have to experience anything of the likes either!"
Although his words had been said to lighten the mood, they had the opposite effect. All were thinking about the trials the Fellowship were set to face, and the atmosphere immediately turned somber.
Shaking herself, Alysae stood up. "I am afraid I must take my leave. I have to see Lord Elrond." She tried not to grimace. "Have a fine day gentlemen —or should I say? Gentlehobbits." She winked and took her book, and left on the way to Elrond's study.
-xxx-
As she walked, her book firmly clutched against her chest, Alysae's thoughts wandered. She had yet to speak with Legolas, her last encounter with him had been where she had run away at the council yesterday, unable to hold his gaze... She shook her head. No more depressing thoughts, she told herself.
She readjusted the book in her grip. The worn cover felt soft against her fingers and it's weight was a comforting one. It bore the title of The Healing Virtues of Plants: An encyclopedia regarding all plants in the lands of Arda. She'd borrowed it from Lord Elrond 's private study, in hopes of finding something that would help her at best, and entertain her at worst. There was so much one could read when they had exhausted all other means.
She passed a tree with intertwining silver branches and delicate white flowers. What was it called again? She frowned in concentration. It started with a c, she was sure...
She scratched the side of her nose. And yelped when a stream of cold water was dumped on her. She opened her eyes, gasping and heard laughter. She glanced down at her purple dress. Purple? It has been silver this morning. In fact, she was purple all over. Her arms, her legs, her... her hair! Her blonde locks now held a deep shade of purple.
Cloth dye, she thought before she promptly burst into tears.
"Oh no no no!" said a male's voice. Elladan. "Please do not cry!" He rushed to her side, closely followed by Elrohir.
"We did not mean to hurt you!" said the latter.
Both elves knelt at her side, not seeming to care about the purple pool of water that spread around their knees.
Alysae's shoulders shook. The stress, worries, strain... it was all too much. She'd finally broken down.
"It's not your fault," she hiccuped.
Elrohir rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.
"Where is my book?" she said, trying in vain to stop the flow of tears.
"Err..." Said Elladan. "Over here." He held out a soaked book, the pages all purple and bloated. Her cries intensified. What would Lord Elrond say?
"We're so sorry about the book, Alys."
"It's not even mine," she sobbed. "It's your father's!"
"It's alright, he'll punish us, not you," said Elrohir.
Alysae finally gave in to her tears, closing her eyes against it all. She felt strong arms embracing her, and she sagged against a broad chest. Her face pressed against a soft tunic, she cried. She let it all out.
She thought about the elves in Mirkwood fighting the darkness everyday, losing their lives. She thought about Merry and Pippin about to risk their lives. Of her brother going to Mordor and most likely not making it back. Of her father alone in his palace. And of her, fading away with no means to stop it.
When finally, after what seemed like hours, her tears dried, and her shoulders stopped shaking. She lifted her head from where it had been resting, a small wet circle left behind. She rubbed at her eyes and glanced up at the one who had stayed with her.
Elrohir smiled at her softly. "Better?"
She smiled back, drying her tears.
-xxx-
Deep within Mirkwood, under the dense canopy of ancient trees and the towering stone walls of the Elvenking's halls, a single light flickered. The silence was nearly absolute, broken only by the faint scratching of a quill on parchment and the occasional rustle of a book being turned. After a final sputter, the candle flame died, plunging the room into darkness.
Thranduil, Elvenking of the Woodland Realm, sighed deeply, rubbing a smooth hand over his tired eyes. "Galion?" he called, his voice carrying through the stillness.
Instantly, his loyal butler appeared in the doorway, a mere shadow among shadows. "Yes, hîr nin?"
Thranduil could barely make out the other elf's features in the pitch-black room. "Fetch me some more candles."
"Of course, hîr nin."
Galion's footsteps echoed softly and then faded into nothingness. A moment later, he returned, a stack of fresh candles in hand. With practiced ease, he lit them, filling the room once more with a warm, golden glow.
"Thank you," Thranduil murmured, turning back to his work. He rubbed the side of his face tiredly, writing another line on the endless reports that demanded his attention.
"Hîr nin," Galion began tentatively, his voice gentle but insistent, "It is late. You should rest."
Thranduil's quill paused, the ink pooling slightly on the parchment. "If only I could," he muttered under his breath.
Galion stepped closer, his concern evident. "What weighs so heavily on your mind, Thranduil?"
For a moment, the Elvenking said nothing. Then, he sighed deeply, setting his quill aside. "A great shadow has been growing in my thoughts," he admitted, his voice laced with a rare vulnerability.
Galion nodded. "I have felt it too, as have all within the realm."
Thranduil returned to his writing, his hand moving almost mechanically across the parchment. But another sound—a soft clearing of the throat—broke his focus once more.
"What is it now?" Thranduil asked, a touch of irritation creeping into his tone.
"But that is not all that troubles you," Galion pressed, his voice gentle but firm. "There is something else occupying your thoughts."
Thranduil sighed again, deeply, as if the weight of his burdens were too much to bear. "I am a king, Galion. There is always something on my mind."
"More so now than ever," Galion countered softly. He placed a hand on Thranduil's shoulder, offering what comfort he could. "Tell me, mellon nin. Seeing you in such distress troubles us all."
Thranduil finally relented, his gaze dropping to the parchment before him. "Once more, you are right, Galion."
"Aren't I always?" Galion replied with a light chuckle, though Thranduil's eyes remained serious.
"I fear for them," Thranduil confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn't need to elaborate; there was only one "they" in his heart—his children.
Galion's heart ached for his king. "Fear not," he tried to reassure. "They are safe in the care of Lord Elrond. No harm will come to them."
Thranduil shook his head slowly. "They are safe for now, yes. But I fear for the future. It feels as though a warning has been laid upon my heart, as if I might never see them again. It is as if the Valar themselves are sending me a message of terrible events to come."
Galion swallowed hard, his own unease growing. He wished he could tell his king that he was wrong, that there was nothing to fear. But Thranduil's sense of foreboding was nearly always accurate. So instead, he remained silent, watching helplessly as the Elvenking returned to his work, the shadow in his heart deepening with every stroke of the quill.
-xxx-
Alysae sat with her back against a broad tree trunk, her legs folded beneath her as she watched the golden leaves fall softly around her. Aragorn, seated beside her with his legs straddling a large root, puffed thoughtfully on his pipe. The sun bathed the world in a warm, golden light, the perfect contrast to the cold, dark shadows lingering in Alysae's thoughts.
She glanced over at the ranger, admiring the sharp lines of his face, the determination in his gray eyes, and the way the stubble on his jaw caught the light. Aragorn treated her as an equal, not as a child, and for that, she was grateful.
Sensing her gaze, Aragorn turned to her with a soft smile. "Still no clue about what happened yesterday?"
Alysae shook her head, frustration and unease clear in her expression. "Mithrandir has been cryptic, refusing to answer my questions about the vision I had when I touched the Ring. It's left me feeling... unsettled."
Aragorn nodded thoughtfully. "I'm confident you'll find your answers in time."
She sighed. "I hope so. It feels as though my vision is somehow connected to the mystery of my past."
Aragorn studied her intently, his gaze searching. "You have no memory, no clue at all of your life before you were found?"
She shook her head. "None. It's as if everything before that day simply doesn't exist."
"Peace, Alysae," Aragorn said gently, sensing her frustration. "I meant no harm. But there is something Gandalf said that troubles me."
"What is it?" she asked, curious and a little anxious. "Everything he's said recently has been cryptic at best."
"He mentioned something about 'forgotten memories, buried,'" Aragorn recalled. "It was as though what you experienced in your vision was a memory—someone else's memory."
Alysae's eyes widened in horror. "You think I was seeing someone else's past? That it really happened?"
Aragorn nodded grimly. "It's possible."
"But that's... terrible!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling. "I don't want to see such horrors again—mangled bodies, blood, so much blood..." She shuddered, the memory making her feel sick. "I've never seen anything like it before."
"It's natural to be horrified," Aragorn said softly. "You've never witnessed true battle."
"And I never wish to!" she declared fervently.
Aragorn took another slow puff from his pipe, releasing the smoke in a thin stream. "Perhaps we should speak of lighter matters, to lift our spirits."
Alysae couldn't help but smile at the memory of a younger self, begging Aragorn to let her try his pipe. She'd been twelve, and after much pleading, he'd finally relented, allowing her a single puff. It had been a disaster—her lungs had burned, and she'd coughed so hard she could barely breathe. Lord Elrond had tended to her, and both he and her brother had given Aragorn an earful for allowing it. Yet despite the mishap, Alysae had felt a sense of independence, of being allowed to make her own mistakes, and for that, she had been grateful.
"I agree," she said, her smile growing.
-xxx-
"Alysae! Hey, Alysae!"
She turned toward the sound, finding herself in a courtyard where a stone table was surrounded by five hobbits: Merry, Pippin, Sam, Frodo, and Bilbo. They waved her over, and though she hesitated at first, Bilbo's warm smile convinced her to join them.
"Come, sit with us!" Merry called, pulling out a chair.
She sat down, smoothing her skirts over her legs and carefully placing the book she had been holding on the table. The porcelain cup of tea and plate of honeycakes before her looked inviting, but she politely declined.
"How are you, Alysae?" Pippin asked, his mouth full of cake.
"Don't talk with your mouth full, you rascal," Bilbo scolded lightly.
Pippin swallowed and grinned. "Sorry!"
"Would you like anything, dear?" Bilbo offered kindly. "Tea? Cakes?"
Alysae shook her head. "No, thank you."
"But look at you!" Bilbo exclaimed, frowning. "You're all skin and bones!"
"Do they not feed you in Mirkwood?" Pippin asked, his tone playful.
Merry elbowed him. "Not everyone has to be as stuffed-looking as you, Pip!"
"Hey!" Pippin protested, but the two cousins soon dissolved into playful bickering.
Alysae was relieved that the attention had shifted away from her, but even as the hobbits continued their banter, her mind drifted to more serious matters. The question of whether to go to Lothlórien weighed heavily on her. It was the logical choice, the best chance she had for healing. But what if it failed? She would be far from home, far from Mirkwood, and if she faded, she would die away from everything she knew. Yet, if she stayed, she might fade within the Woodland Realm, under her father's helpless gaze. No, she couldn't bear that thought. She would rather take her chances in Lothlórien, despite the risks. But how to tell her brother...
"Alysae?" Sam's voice broke through her reverie.
"Yes?" she replied, blinking as she returned to the present.
"You zoned out on us," Merry teased.
"I was just thinking about the Council yesterday," she said, though that was only part of the truth. "I have some things to consider."
"About the Ring?" Frodo asked softly, his voice tinged with the burden he now carried.
"Yes," Alysae replied, nodding. "And much more."
The hobbits exchanged glances, unsure how to help. Bilbo reached over and patted Alysae's hand comfortingly. "Whatever decision you make, we'll support you."
"Thank you, Bilbo," she said, smiling despite the turmoil within her.
But even as she sat among friends, the weight of her choice pressed heavily on her, leaving her no peace.
Shaking herself, Alysae stood up. "I am afraid I must take my leave. I have to see Lord Elrond." She tried not to grimace. "Have a fine day gentlemen —or should I say? Gentlehobbits." She winked and took her book, and left on the way to Elrond's study.
-xxx-
As Alysae walked through the shaded paths of Rivendell, her mind churned with unresolved thoughts. She clutched a well-worn book tightly to her chest, seeking comfort in its familiar weight. The Healing Virtues of Plants: An Encyclopedia Regarding All Plants in the Lands of Arda was the title embossed on its cover—a tome she'd borrowed from Lord Elrond's private study. She hoped it might contain something that could aid her, or at the very least, distract her troubled mind.
Her thoughts, however, kept drifting back to the Council of Elrond. The memory of her last encounter with Legolas weighed heavily on her. She had run from him, unable to meet his gaze, overwhelmed by emotions she couldn't fully understand or control. The sting of it still lingered.
"No more depressing thoughts," she muttered to herself, shaking her head as if to dislodge the memories.
She shifted the book in her hands, letting her fingers trace the familiar texture of its cover. The smell of parchment and ink was a comfort, grounding her in the present. She passed a tree with intertwining silver branches adorned with delicate white flowers. The name of the tree hovered just out of reach, teasing her memory.
"Cele... Cel—" she began, frowning in concentration.
Suddenly, a stream of cold water cascaded over her, drenching her from head to toe. She gasped in shock, her mind blanking in disbelief as she felt the chill sink into her skin. The familiar purple of her dress deepened to a saturated hue, and she quickly realized that everything—her dress, her skin, and even her hair—was now tinged with a deep, vibrant purple.
A loud, mirthful laugh echoed through the trees. Alysae whipped around to find Elladan and Elrohir standing a short distance away, their expressions a mix of amusement and sudden regret. They must have doused her with dye-laden water.
"Elladan! Elrohir!" she cried, her voice trembling as she looked down at her now-ruined dress. "My hair...!" Her hand flew to her hair, her fingers threading through her now-purple locks.
The twins' laughter quickly faded as they saw the tears welling up in her eyes.
"Oh no, no, no!" Elladan rushed over, a look of panic replacing his mischievous grin. "Please, Alysae, don't cry!"
"We didn't mean to upset you!" Elrohir added, hurrying to her side. They both knelt beside her, their knees sinking into the damp, purple-stained earth, heedless of the mess they were making of their own clothes.
But Alysae couldn't hold back the tears any longer. Everything she had been holding in—the fear, the anxiety, the overwhelming sadness—came crashing down on her. She sobbed, her body trembling with the force of her emotions.
"It's not your fault," she managed to hiccup between sobs.
Elrohir reached out to rub her shoulder gently, trying to offer some comfort. "Where is my book?" she asked through her tears, suddenly remembering the precious volume she had been holding.
Elladan hesitated, then retrieved the book from where it had fallen. The pages were soaked through, bloated, and dyed a deep purple. He handed it to her with a look of guilt. "I'm so sorry, Alysae. We didn't mean to ruin it."
A fresh wave of tears poured from her eyes as she took the ruined book in her hands. "It's not even mine," she cried. "It's your father's!"
"Don't worry," Elrohir said quickly. "We'll take the blame. He won't be angry with you, we promise."
But the book was just the final straw. As she clutched the ruined pages, all the stress and sorrow she had been bottling up for so long burst free. She leaned into Elrohir's chest, no longer caring about the purple dye staining his tunic. She cried as though her heart would break, letting out all the fear and grief she had been carrying for so long—fear for her brother's perilous journey, grief for the elves of Mirkwood fighting against the encroaching darkness, and the gnawing despair of her own uncertain future.
Elrohir held her gently, his arms wrapping around her protectively. He didn't try to hush her tears or tell her it would be alright. He simply held her, offering silent support as she wept.
When at last her tears began to subside, she lifted her head, wiping her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. Elrohir smiled at her, his gaze warm and understanding. "Feeling better?" he asked softly.
Alysae managed a small, shaky smile in return. "A little," she admitted, though her heart still ached.
"Good," Elrohir said, reaching up to brush a stray lock of purple hair from her face. "You'll get through this, Alysae. We'll make sure of it."
His words, coupled with the kindness in his eyes, gave her a tiny spark of hope. She nodded, taking a deep breath as she tried to compose herself.
And somewhere in the back of her mind, despite everything that had happened, she was already plotting her revenge against the mischievous twins.
-xxx-
As the evening sun began to set, Aragorn and Alysae found themselves on a hill overlooking Rivendell, where the Elves' singing rose like a chorus of stars. Alysae took a deep breath, letting the tranquility of the moment soothe her troubled mind. Beside her, Aragorn remained silent, his presence a comforting anchor.
"The beauty here is beyond compare," Alysae whispered, not wanting to disturb the peace.
"Indeed," Aragorn agreed, his voice equally soft. "I have traveled far and wide, but nothing equals Rivendell."
Alysae nodded, but her mind was elsewhere, still turning over the events of the past few days. The vision she'd experienced when she touched the Ring, the cryptic words of Gandalf, and her unresolved past all swirled together, creating a maelstrom of doubt and confusion.
Aragorn sensed her unease. "Alysae, if you are troubled, speak of it. I am here to listen."
She hesitated, then finally let out a long sigh. "It's just... everything. The vision I had... I still don't understand it. And I can't shake this feeling that it's connected to my past somehow."
Aragorn nodded thoughtfully. "I understand. But I also believe that in time, all will be revealed. The path ahead is fraught with danger, but you will find your way."
Alysae looked at him, her heart warmed by his words. "Thank you, Aragorn. I don't know what I would do without you."
He smiled, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "You are stronger than you know, Alysae. And whatever happens, you will not face it alone."
She squeezed his hand back, feeling a renewed sense of determination. No matter what the future held, she knew that with Aragorn by her side, she could face anything.
As the last rays of sunlight faded into twilight, Alysae felt a glimmer of hope within her heart.
-xxx-
hîr nin - my lord
mellon nin - my friend
leave a review and feed my plot bunny! btw what should i name him? or her? all right, all right im crazy and i know it ;)*
Edited as of 08/2024