AN: I have recommended listening this time! "Over the Hills and Far Away", "The Highwayman" by Loreena McKenitt, "Valhalla Calling" by Miracle of Sound, "Voodoo Man" by The Jolly Rogers, "As Time Goes By" from the movie Casablanca, and "Only Us" by Miracle of Sound.
Bit of a short chapter but for some reason the one year quaranniversary hit me pretty hard. Also work is going nuts and I want to scream at all the tourists. Anybody else?
Chapter 30: Bardic
To the untrained observer, it would be hard to tell that Rivendell was a realm preparing for war. Elves have champion poker faces and there was nothing in the atmosphere that made one uneasy. Yet I saw the patrols be visibly upped and weapons were being forged by the smithy when I poked my head in to see about getting a short sword made.
A week after the council, Lord Elrond sent out scouts to see how difficult it would be to get to bloody Mordor. Or at least to the other side of the mountains. Hearing that someone was being sent to the Gap of Rohan, I had them take Damascus and Gander with them; Bill had been chosen to be the party's pack animal since Sam wouldn't part with him, and a dog wouldn't be very useful to us.
I was cheered up after their departure by Lord Elrond's sons trying to pull a quick one on me, only to find that I was very experienced with the tricks twins can pull off. Rather than be disappointed, they were delighted. I joined the ranks of them, Merry, and Pippin who teamed up to cause minor chaos.
The minstrel, Lindir, had been having a fabulous time hearing all the songs that people from distant lands would sing. Except for the dwarves, and Boromir claimed that he was a terrible singer. Everyone else though, he bothered into singing. It took a while for him to get to me since Legolas and Strider had brought back so much material from the many lands they had visited since their last journey here.
Again I was bothered by the thought of what to sing. But unlike at the triple wedding, I had an idea of what would sound good without an electric guitar. The first night it was "The Highwayman" and the next, "Over the Hills and Far Away". Then I decided that to get to the things that really interested me, I needed to recruit help.
The first person I went to was, surprisingly, Gimli. "Hey there, are you busy?" I asked upon finding him sitting on a set of stairs with his father, pipes out. They spent a lot of time smoking and sometimes I got the feeling that they did it to keep the elves away.
The dwarves exchanged glances before Gloin replied, "No, my lady. Is there anything you need?"
I couldn't help smiling. "I have a proposition for one of you. But first can I get a hit off that pipe?" I requested.
Gimli handed his to me and good lord it was nice to have a bit of pipe weed in my system again. I rather reluctantly handed it back after a couple of puffs that very nicely relaxed my shoulders. "Wonderful, thank you," I said before I explained, "There's a song I want to sing, but I need a very deep voice as well as mine and Strider's. Would you help me out here?"
While Gloin's eyebrows shot up, his son squinted at me. "Not the elf?" he asked.
Rude as it is, I snorted out a laugh at the idea of Legolas doing this song. "Oh no, he's better at hitting the high notes if you know what I mean," I told him with a smirk.
The dwarves both gave a great guffaw at my mean joke. "Tell me the words and I may be able to help," Gimli agreed, dark eyes glittering.
He was absolutely perfect for the job. When I was able to find a time that both he and Strider were available to practice together, it kind of made me want to get on a boat and terrorize some British monasteries. Because when we finally got up in front of the large grate in the Hall of Fire, we half sang and half chanted the words to "Valhalla Calling", a Miracle of Sound song that the boys back home and I had planned on except for the lack of really deep voices in our group.
Meanwhile Legolas's voice was perfect for the roles of the arch-deacon and Esmeralda in The Hunchback of Notre Dame, as Lindir had requested something in a longer format. I wasn't sure whether he regretted it after just the first night, what with baby Quasimodo nearly being thrown down a well and everything. But the horror of Judge Frollo only made the victory of the good characters sweeter; at the end when I went with the Disney version, nearly the entire room cheered.
For "Voodoo Man" by the Jolly Rogers I got Merry and Pippin up on stage and we had a ball.
I let Gandalf alone since he was always closeted with Lord Elrond and Glorfindel discussing Important Matters. Dude was busy enough without me bothering him about singing.
Similarly I figured Frodo had enough on his plate and I didn't know any songs that Sam would be inclined toward.
That being said, I noticed something very odd. Whenever I would get lost in Rivendell or just wander aimlessly, I always ended up finding Frodo. There was always a pull in his direction that I couldn't quite explain; I was sort of terrified that it was the ring luring me his way. Oh, he and Sam were great company, and I felt perfectly safe and in control, but the worry gnawed at the back of my mind where the ring hissed maliciously.
I pushed it further down by keeping busy. Gradually the bandages were removed and I got back to practicing with my weapons, a relief that left me covered in a satisfying patina of sweat whenever we broke for lunch. More often than not I found my bath buddies and we had a good giggle among us girls in the bathhouse; Luinlote was a laundress, so she knew what everybody got up to, and Elenya heard more than you would think in the kitchens.
While I got more comfortable in Rivendell, Boromir didn't seem to relax at all. He trusted the elves as far as he could throw Damascus and Gandalf even less. While I was wary of anyone who resembled Dumbledore that much and spent so much time plotting, everyone except for Boromir trusted him. He deserved at least a chance to fuck us over for the greater good.
It was Strider who really got his ire, though. The whole "going to be king and practically take Denethor's job away" thing is a difficult thing to swallow even for me; I wasn't surprised that Denethor's son and heir might have trouble with it. More often than not I had to get up into Boromir's business and distract him when he seemed to be oppositional just to annoy the ever-patient Strider.
In October Legolas and I presented Sleeping Beauty to give everybody a break from the emotional complexity of our future plans. Hunchback's message of "your actions determine whether you are good or evil, not your appearance", is a difficult thing to digest when in Middle Earth beauty seems to equal goodness.
That concept made things a bit awkward at times. Like when on my third week in Rivendell, I wanted to walk in the garden and instead found myself at swordpoint. Mind racing, I realized that I didn't have a weapon on me and I put my hands up. "Whoa there, buddy! What's the problem?" I questioned with an awkward laugh.
"How did an orc get into Rivendell, I wonder?" the elf replied, voice soft and dangerous.
Despite the blade being close enough to give me a shave, I couldn't help my jaw dropping open right onto the side. "Orc? You think I'm an orc?" I spluttered.
The sword pressed in a centimeter more. A sharp pain made me hiss in an intake of breath but I didn't feel blood dripping. Yet.
I was so upset, I barely even cared if he slit my throat. "I have never been so insulted in my life!" I screeched, "I'm human, you imbecile! Human! Like Strider! Aragorn! Whatever the fuck you call him around here!" The blade cut deeper with every syllable but trying to pull away would probably make this tightly wound elf freaking behead me, so I didn't dare move.
My blood finally got the message across, deep red as it dripped down my throat. "What strangeness is this?" the elf demanded quietly, eyes darting from my neck to my face and back.
Despite the pain, I continued to rail at him in the loudest, highest pitched voice that I could manage. My eyes watered but I blinked the tears back until I was out of this mess.
"Feasilme!" Lord Elrond's voice thundered.
The strange elf and I both startled; his blade nicked deeper and I jerked back with a gasp. "Can you please tell this idiot that I'm not a goddamned orc?" I demanded, spinning to face the elvish lord.
Lord Elrond's already furrowed brows dipped even deeper. "Feasilme, sheath your sword and explain yourself," he ordered.
The strange elf removed his sword from my throat and carefully cleaned the red from its edge. "I thought it was an orc," he stated coolly.
"It?" I repeated, furious. My hands itched with the need to be around his neck.
"Lady Cassandra is a guest in my house, Feasilme," Lord Elrond instructed him, voice tight but calm, "She is no orc, nor any other evil creature. Return to your post. Glorfindel will decide what to do with you."
The elf bowed deeply and with a derisive look up and down me, glided away.
Oh god, there was an audience, I realized now that the threat had gone. Elves and even Merry and Pippin had assembled to watch the unusual confrontation. Now that it was over they began to drift away, but that they had even seen this made me want the ground to swallow me.
Tears welled up again and this time, I couldn't hold them back. "Thank you, Lord Elrond," I told him in an excessively controlled voice, "Please excuse me." Utterly humiliated, I ran for it.
All calls for me to come back were ignored. I could barely see where I was going and didn't care where I ended up. As long as there was nobody nearby, anywhere was fine with me.
When I finally stopped running I found myself on the same bridge where I had seen Strider and Arwen smooching the other day. Sniffling, I wiped under my nose with my sleeve. There was no point in blocking up a bridge so I crossed it and found a good tree to climb; it was an old habit to go upward when I wanted to hide since no one looks that way.
An orc? I get that I'm hideous, but that was a low blow even for me. At the very least I still had better hair than an orc! Even with the whites!
Was it really that important around here to be beautiful? Was the rule of beauty equals goodness so set that being ugly is an automatic sentence of everyone assuming I'm evil? Bitterly I made a bet with myself that other than Boromir, I'd be the first accused of trying to take the stupid ring.
Awful thoughts assailed me. Did the people I thought were my friends merely tolerate me? In Bree and Edoras did everyone sleep with one eye open, expecting me to do something evil? If that's how things go in this place, would I become evil to match how I look? I wondered if Boromir regretted waiting for me; would he do the smart thing and tell me to stay in Tharbad, that he needed a wife who didn't look like a fucking orc?
Even as I worried, I felt guilty for thinking such things about people I liked and trusted. They deserved more faith than I was giving them. Mum was right; I'm a terrible person.
While I stewed and cried, I dapped at my poor abused skin under the cut I'd gotten. It wasn't deep enough to do real damage but it stung and the movement of my throat from the heavy breathing and sobbing kept it from clotting properly. In the dimming light I barely managed to see my own upper chest where blood flaked and dried on and over the collar of my shirt. Luinlote was going to kill me for sure, making her try to clean that off.
Dizzy tiredness hit me like a freight train. It wasn't safe to stay up here, I'd likely fall. At the same time I dreaded getting down and being easier to find.
The decision was made for me an hour later when a familiar voice called from below, "Come down, Cass! The evening meal awaits!" When I glanced downward, Strider was peering straight at me through the thinning leaves.
My stomach was ravenous but twisted so badly I wanted to be sick. "I'm not hungry!" I lied.
"At least let me look at your throat," Strider urged, "It needs to be bandaged or it may become infected."
Miserably I climbed down, more aware than ever of how terrible I looked even by my standards. My eyes were red and itchy, my nose was sore and red, and my hair was a rat's nest from how I'd been putting my hands through it. "Hi," I sniffled, voice hoarse, when I was finally on the ground.
The concern in Strider's eyes hurt while it soothed. "You're covered in blood," he observed softly and went to touch the base of my throat.
I caught his wrist. "Not before you wash your hands," I said firmly.
Thankfully he didn't argue. Instead he set that hand on my shoulder and gently hinted at me to turn, to walk. "For being so distinctive, you can be difficult to find," he commented.
Distinctive, I scoffed mentally. "Practice," I replied, "Six siblings, sometimes you need to get creative to have a minute alone." Plus Mum was a clever woman and hiding from her could be difficult.
"I imagine so," Strider said wryly, "It was difficult enough with just Elrohir and Elladan."
"You grew up here?" I asked.
He nodded. "Yes, Lord Elrond raised me," he confirmed.
Awkwardly I wondered how Lord Elrond felt about two of his children dating each other. I decided not to ask. "This seems like an… interesting place to grow up human," I said instead.
"It was," Strider said, a fond smile flitting over his lips, "You've become friends with my brothers; I suspect they've told you a few things." He was very right, not that I would tell him so.
We had reached Lord Elrond's house at that point and he quickly took me to the bedroom I had first woken up in. Already the elvish lord was there, bandaging and a tub of ointment on the side table he sat beside. Had he been waiting this whole time?
Guiltily I tried smiling at him. "Hello?" I offered.
He took a deep breath and got to his feet. "Many apologies, Lady Cassandra, for what happened earlier. It was inexcusable," he told me, "Feasilme had been on guard duty for the past month and did not know that we had guests. How he thought you were an orc of all things is beyond me, however." He had the sense to wash his hands in a basin before he too raised a hand toward my neck.
Automatically I flinched.
Lord Elrond's dark eyes went even darker. "I will not harm you," he promised.
"I know," I chuckled, mortified, and lifted my chin slightly to give him more room, "A bit jumpy, I guess."
"Understandably. Feasilme has been sent back on guard duty for the next year after he apologizes to you," Lord Elrond informed me, eyes on his work as he wiped away some of the blood with a wet cloth.
The cool made me shiver. "I'll only take it if he means it," I warned.
A nod. "It seems the damage is only skin deep," Lord Elrond said, "I'll use ointment and bandage it. Again, they will be changed every morning and evening until it is properly scabbed." At least this time he didn't put a restriction on sex?
"Mhm," I hummed and tried to not tense up when he pulled the bandage around my neck.
Lord Elrond shot a look over my shoulder. Very gently he tied the bandage off and stepped back. "If there is anything I or my household can do for you, please tell me. You have been wronged by one of my people and I need to make restitution for that," he told me, "Until then, please rest. I will have your meal brought in when the cooks are finished." With a solemn nod he walked around me and left.
Strider had already gone, thankfully, so I pulled my shirt off and began to scrub the blood off using a cloth and the basin. The water rapidly turned pink and the cloth was probably beyond repair by the time I felt mostly clean. An apology would be needed to the laundresses between this and my ruined shirt.
A short knock on the door had me jump. "Who is it?" I called, scrambling into my nightshirt.
"It is I," Boromir replied, voice muffled by the door.
My shoulders went lax. "Come in," I replied and tossed my bloodied shirt into the laundry bag.
The door opened. "What happened? I was hearing that some elf thought you were an orc!" He let out a snicker at the ridiculousness.
I scoffed. "The rumor mill is surprisingly accurate around here," I told him sourly, turning around once the door was closed.
Boromir blinked for a moment, then his eyes narrowed on my bandaged neck. "You were attacked," he said bluntly.
"He thought I was a threat," I said, downplaying it with a little shrug, "He's being disciplined for it and this won't even scar. Shit happens. What have you been doing?"
An expression of mild disbelief turned to one of fond exasperation. "Looking for you," he replied.
I couldn't help grinning, taking the few steps forward to put my hands on his shoulders. "In the stables, right?" I guessed.
He nodded. "Where were you?" he questioned.
"When looking for something or someone, no one ever seems to look up," I replied rather mysteriously. Half as an example I glanced up at the ceiling before I returned my eyes to his.
A large hand rested on the upper curve of my hip and unthinkingly, I skimmed my fingers down his arm to take his free hand. I began humming the tune to "As Time Goes By" and moving in little circles, barely dancing.
"How do you always end up in trouble wherever you go?" Boromir asked wryly.
"Natural talent and a bit of practice," I answered and then continued to hum.
Once what I could remember of the song was done, I gathered up my guts to make a request. "I have a song I'd like to do, but the dance is a bit… risque and it's a duet. Do you want to take a try?" I asked hopefully, "I know you said your voice is awful but I doubt you're that bad. And I bet you're getting tired of Lindir harassing you."
His expression changed a bit when I mentioned that maybe Lindir might stop bothering him for songs.
"Can you maybe sing a little something for me? I promise I'll be kind but honest." I didn't stop our little dance, kept him moving as he decided.
Though he gave me a warning look, Boromir began to quietly recite, "In the land of mighty Numenor, where anemones now bloom…" It was a sad, romantic little tune, the singer longing for a homeland they never knew. His voice occasionally fried but he was nowhere near "terrible" at this.
When we were left swaying in near silence, I told him so. "Think about that duet and get back to me," I said, unable to help a yawn, "For right now, bedtime."
He returned to the Hall of Fire and I finished getting ready for bed. By some miracle I didn't dream that night.
The following day I received and accepted Feasilme's apology, though I didn't exactly say that I forgave him. Because of him, I no longer felt fully comfortable in Rivendell; at least to me, that was something very difficult to forgive.
I stayed closer to the main settlement now, never venturing far alone. Every time I took someone aside to work on a song or dance, my guard was up and only half of my attention on what I was doing. In one of the closer courtyards the fellowship sparred and improved their technique but I rarely joined them afterward. Who knew if some other mad elf would think I was an attacking orc?
The good part was that Boromir did get up the guts to try out the song I had in mind. When I had to teach him a basic tango, he very quickly understood why I asked for him. Plus I knew for a fact that he could support my weight on the lifts and dips. A couple times we accidentally hit my head on the floor but never badly enough to really hurt me.
Over the several weeks it took to perfect that, Legolas and I managed several more Disney productions. Either he was one of the brighter light bulbs in the box or elves generally pick things up quickly. We blazed through Beauty and the Beast, The Little Mermaid, and the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie, and even got to the 21st Century Fox version of Anastasia with my (apparently) terrifying rendition of Rasputin. Our last performance in Rivendell was Prince of Egypt, which ended in rapturous applause and a few sniffles.
Once that was over, I didn't leave the performer's area as usual. Instead I waved Boromir up. "I have a song this time about two characters who really shouldn't have fallen in love but did anyways," I told the audience, completely leaving out the details of that gnarly plot line. The song was just too good to bother with half-baked characters in overly complicated storylines.
Reassuringly I glanced up at Boromir and smiled as we got into positions. I squeezed his hand in mine.
He returned the gesture, and I began to sing. "When bells of shame have faded, and I remain reviled…" There were pieces that were mine and bits that were his, and of course a chorus that was both of us singing. As a matter of plot we never looked away from each other, and I found that I didn't want to; as words poured from his mouth or mine, his eyes blazed in the light of the fire. My awareness shrank to just him and me.
Finally it was time for the really deep dip and just like we practiced, I wrapped one leg high up on his hips. The gasp from the peanut gallery nearly made me fall over; I had managed to completely forget we had an audience, too wrapped up in the look on his face and the warmth of his hands. For just a moment my scalp felt the cold that the floor radiated and if we hadn't been practicing every night, the sudden return to my feet would have made me dizzy.
As it ended, we were back to where we started. Just like nothing had ever happened, as the characters always pretended.
Unable to help myself, I grinned and let my head fall forward to thonk down near the base of his neck. I never wanted to dance like this with anyone else, I admitted to myself. My hand tingled with the feeling of his skin and my stomach flipped like I was a teenager again.
I felt him take in a sharp breath.
Applause was slow to come but once everyone's brains caught up with their eyes, it was almost enthusiastic. Of course there were whispers, some raised eyebrows, but no one reprimanded us when we vacated the "stage" so I figured we got away with it.
"You never did answer who you first practiced such a dance with," Boromir half whispered, half grumbled, as we took seats near Gimli and Gloin.
Oh, right. We had gotten… distracted before I could answer. "The viewers asked for the song and Martin was the only one who could lift me," I murmured.
"That was a performance if I've ever seen one, lass," Gloin commented, one eyebrow still cocked.
My face went a bit pink and I was glad the firelight made it not so obvious. "It takes a good partner," I replied with a smile at Boromir.
He smiled back and then we found ourselves wrapped up in conversation with the dwarves for several hours. It was a bit later than we planned when we got back to our room and even later until we slept, if you know what I mean.
"Hey," I whispered once I caught my breath.
"Hm?" he hummed, playing with the ends of my hair.
"I'm glad to be here with you," I told him.
"I am too."