"Get the wounded into healing hall," Niniliath says when we enter the cavern, me breathing hard.
"How many were lost?" I hear another captain who stayed here ask.
"Nearly fifteen. We were taken down my warg riders from the south."
"How did they get all the way up here?"
"I do not know."
That's when I notice a nasty scratch on her cheek bone.
"Are they stationed in Dol Guldur again?" Kel asks her.
"They would be fools to do so. That place should be abandoned for over sixty years.
"But if they have taken refuge there and are breeding wargs-"
"Then there is not much we can do. If they were strong all the way up here could you imagine the army waiting for us down there?"
"This makes me miss the spiders..." he grumbles before helping a wounded elf into the halls to be taken care of.
"We should have just stayed in the trees and shot down arrows at them, this is my fault-," I start as I wipe the blood off my cheek.
"No we didn't know there would be wargs. I was never expecting..." she looks more worried now.
"My lady," the king's steward says when he comes up to us.
"What?" she asks not in a good mood.
"My lord demands your presence."
She closes her mouth nervously and nods. She exchanges one look with me follows him. I look back and walk after her.
We enter the king's study under the throne room and see him standing there with his back to us. The steward leaves us there alone with him. I grow anxious over the silence.
"How many are dead, Niniliath?" he asks with that business tone.
"...fifteen, my lord."
"Where are the riders now?"
"Somewhere within our borders."
He finally turns around slowly, shooting a look of disappointment towards her.
She doesn't look in his eye. "I am sorry, my lord. We tried but there was no expectation of the wolves to appear so close or even at all."
"What were they doing in Mirkwood?"
She doesn't answer.
His tone sounds a bit more angry now. "You were supposed to eliminate the pack of orcs weeks ago, do you mind telling me what happened?"
"We tried to kill them, my lord, but there were too many. We burned their settlement but some survivors got away. These were the ones we killed this afternoon."
He faces her with anger and staring down at her from his height that reaches the sky and leaves us scared to the bone. "But now they know they can get dangerously close to us without consequence and they camp closer and closer each day, do you not see what you have done?"
She closes her eyes, trying not to be upset over his furious tone.
"It was my fault, sire," I blurt out, walking in front of her. "I suggested that we meet them further down the road. I take the blame..." I look down.
"You fought away from our fortress where there was no back up," he eyes her after looking at me, surprised. "And now you have reduced our army." He walks up to her with an intimidating glare. "I want those wargs gone by sunrise."
"I will do so, my lord," she says with a twist and an exit. I realize that that means she has to go back out right now with more soldiers to kill them.
"No no don't make her go-" I say.
King Thranduil shoots me a glare that makes me want to curl into a ball and vomit. It scares me with his disapproval and anger; a warning in his eyes.
I stare at the ground, my finger almost trembling. "I'm sorry sir," I plead. "If I had just kept my mouth shut this wouldn't have happened."
"I did not expect such a command to my soldiers to come from you, Vilora. Nor did I expect her to listen. This blame is not yours. She is the captain and therefore must take responsibility."
"Understood," I nod. I gulp and look up, ready to defend my friend even if it gets me killed. "She was really trying to just protect her people you needn't be so hard on her."
"Victory is nothing achieved if not by discipline."
"But she wants the same thing you want," I say a little bolder. "She told me that she always feels like she lets you down and it's true."
"I treat her as such because I have to-"
"You do not!" I face him, almost standing on my toes to try and look intimidating. "When her father died all you did was bring her up, expecting her to be as good as he was and throwing a blade in her hand. Calling her general! She was a child! She expected you to care for her! But you didn't!"
"I called upon her because I saw a greatness in her and life! I saw potential in her! Like her father before her I knew she would carry on better than he!"
"That doesn't explain why you have treated her like dirt!"
"Maybe because that is what I have to do protect the ones I love!"
"You're emotionless! Maybe that's why Ryohnin left!" I spat without thinking, anger heating my thoughts and my words.
He gets in my face with fury. "Do not think that you know more about my family than I do! I have watched as the world swallowed my loved ones! I have watched as a beast tore open the flesh of my own brother! I have seen my father's torched body from the breath of a fire heaving dragon! I have witnessed my own wife die in battle! I have said goodbye to my son and watch him disappear into your realm never to return! My Legolas and I are the only ones left and now he too is gone!" he backs away when he realizes how much he has said, turning around and placing his hands on a wooden desk with anger still in his face. Silence takes us for a few seconds. "...The shadow creeps on the borders of my people and my home... I cannot see the light... The world fades into darkness... I remember the look in her eyes when I thought I had saved her... held her in my arms... and watched as life left her body... That night when I had to tell Legolas... he was only six... He looked into my eyes and asked me where his mother was," I hear his voice get quiet and shaky, tears lacing his words. "I saw the love leave my little leaf's eyes and only sorrow... pain... and anger..."
I can't find any words to say. My heart shatters from all I just heard. All of this is true? I can't... believe this... how could I be so selfish?
He speaks even quieter now. "...I have tried all I can to remember her... but nothing... her face... I want to see her face... but my memories are hidden from me as if fire has scorched them all..." he shuts his eyes, his head hanging with depression. "I can't even tell Legolas what she was like... ..."
I stand there with a heart torn in two... how did he ever deserve such a painful life? His torture... his sorrow... his broken past has made him hard and miserable... No wonder they never saw him smile. I can't imagine going through this... What have I done?
He should be angry with me but instead all he says, with his back still turned, is "Go rest, child. Leave me."
But I don't think... I cannot think. The only thing that I catch myself doing is breaking down and lunging at the king, wrapping my arms around his waist (as he is much taller than I) and crying into his silk robe. It's not because I feel sorry for myself, but for him. I had no idea his past had been so tragic. Worse than mine even. Forget being proper. I couldn't care less. I squeeze his torso and he seems taken aback.
(She doesn't know this, but he has already shed a couple tears)
He turns so that my head is against his chest. I feel his hand rest on my head and the other on my back.
He knows why I am crying, which is why he doesn't speak.
I just let myself weep into his cloak, all of my feelings; infinite apologies shedding from my eyes and he knows this...
I feel his fingers hold me to him in comfort. His compassion just makes me feel more awful about making him so hurt...
This has ripped me apart. All my sympathy floods inside me until it leaks out as salt water. All I want to do is curl up against him like a child when her father returns from war; never wanting to leave again.
After I cry myself dry, that takes a few minutes, he bends down to where he is eye level with me, his eyes still beautiful but red where they were once white, a trail of pain left down his cheek. "You are a gentle soul, Lady Vilora. Kind and caring. Cherish that."
I close my eyes, feeling his hands on either side of my face, the smooth and warm skin of his fingers on my dirty cheeks.
"Enough tears," he says softly and wipes away one on my cheek with a tender touch of his finger. Great. Now he has seen me at my most vulnerable. Perhaps the most vulnerable I have ever been in my life. "Do not dwell in those who are past us, poikaer. Especially when they already lie on someone else's shoulders." (pure one)
I don't speak, but breathe, attempting to stay strong.
He makes a sympathetic smile. "Get some sleep, dear one," he mutters quietly to me.
I nod, like a child after a nightmare and let him help me to stand as he does. I leave his study with a heavy heart, folding my arms around each other and trying to contain the sorrow I feel. I don't know how I will sleep tonight.
I walk through the empty kingdom that is silent. The huge caverns surround me with loneliness. All that can be heard are my footsteps on the stone. I breathe, short and shaky breaths, feeling the burning behind my eyes that wants to create more tears. But I try to forget it... try to.
I shut my eyes and swallow the lump in my throat. Did I leave him too early or should I have left him alone? I am sure he wants to be in solitude... I would if this had happened...
I hear distant laughter and slurred speech. Oh yes those must be the men that have been staying here for the past couple of days. Men from the mountains I think they are, journeying to their kin in Dale. Thranduil isn't too easy to let people camp in his kingdom but there was something about a debt he didn't tell me. The king's business I suppose. But either way they had to stay here...
I remember one of them, didn't know his name, had asked to get me a drink but I turned him down, easily. He didn't like that but I didn't really care.
As my feet step on the stone stairs I hear the laughter getting close. They walk behind me through the hallways.
And as I come to the square that splits into two different stair cases I hear him call, "My lady!" in a strange way, the speech rather lazy.
I turn around, heaving a sigh. The three of them approach me and I realize I left my weapons (and my chest plate) in the armory so I have nothing to threaten them with.
"Where are you going?" the one who had asked me for a drink says, seeming concerned. He has long black hair and thin beard, larger nose and brown eyes. The three of them smell like wine.
"Away from you drunkards," I respond, rolling my eyes.
He frowns slightly. "Why so sour, miss?" he seems offended.
I don't answer but turn and begin walking up the steps.
"Wait, what's wrong?" he asks and follows me.
I shut my eyes, not in the mood to talk to anyone and keeping a steady pace.
"Let me get you a drink," he continues, catching up to me.
"I don't really want to talk right now," I say coldly, still taken with sadness and vulnerability.
"Alright," he says and grabs my arm, one of his friends behind him laughing for no reason. I can smell alcohol on his breath. "I can think of something else that would make you feel better. You don't have to talk." He smiles.
I make a disgusted expression and rip my arm from his grasp. I turn my head and start walking fast again.
"Come on," the man presses.
I ignore him. No way this is going to happen. But my heart rate quickens as they run up to me.
"Don't go," he says and takes my arm again.
I turn and throw a punch at his face, my knuckles hitting his teeth and cutting my skin. But he stumbles back.
The other two men are behind me and they grab both my arms tightly. They are strong. And against two there isn't much I can do.
I thrash from them and yank my limbs but they don't budge. I was not in the mood for this tonight. My muscles are weak and trembling from today and from the weakness that has affected my whole body. And thoughts swim idly in my confused head.
I stop moving and try to think logically. Two men on either side...
I spring up to the right, whirling around one of them and smacking my boot heel into the other's face. I grasp the man behind me and throw him to the floor over my head.
I take that chance to run. Instead of running to my room which would be smart I suppose, though the way is blocked now by them, I fly down the stairs and through the open hallway as fast as possible. I hear footsteps behind me.
And I come to a slow, running out of breath fast without reason.
My legs feel like noodles but I try to run.
They have caught up and the one closest kicks me in the shin, causing me to fling to the floor on my palms with a grunt.
I grasp the stone, trying to get up; to crawl; to do anything.
But they grab all of my limbs. I grind my teeth and try to escape.
They pull me up and pin me to the wall, my hair falling in my face and in front of my raging eyes.
I huff and growl at them with fury but they are not intimidated by a short little girl.
I try to move my legs but they are bound by something. My head is swimming. I could hit them with that... but it would harm me more than them. I can't reach anything to bite.
Two men on either side of me keep me still. And the man in front with a bloody lip leans in with deceitful, but bloodshot eyes; bloodshot from drinking too much. The wine in Mirkwood is stronger than most and it seems they got carried away.
I breathe in his stinky breath of alcohol, my nose scrunching.
He grabs my neck and waist as I wince. But I lean down and bite his finger with my screaming teeth. He grunts and pulls back as I taste blood on my lips.
He reaches forward and bashes my head against the wall behind me, letting his knee stab my gut.
I see stars.
And I feel him and another grabbing at my tunic, ripping it and tearing it off me, their hands grasping every part of my body with greed.
I cry out but it comes as a choke that holds blood. A hand holds my neck and almost keeps me from even breathing.
They don't stop and I can feel their hands groping my bare skin.
My hands find hair of one of their heads and I begin yanking at it, the painful cries of both of us filling the halls, blood seeping through my fingers.
An elbow hits my torso and I grunt, coughing and choking as my fingers let go, unwillingly. I fall to the ground and try crawling with a weak head that makes my vision blurry.
They grab me and yank me trousers off me, exposing my bare legs and thin pants as I try to scream again, letting a little out but not much. I can't feel my head or much of anything now.
They pull me around and the man whom took interest first clutches my arm so hard I can feel my bone being squished. He pulls off my bra and I cry out with fumbling hands trying to cover my chest-a sharp thud gets my attention. I see a brown staff swing and hit the man so hard in the head he falls unconscious-if he's still alive.
I spin around to see one swing of the arm and another man is flipped over through the air and on his back, gasping for breath.
The last one pulls out a knife to defend himself but it is blocked by a twirl of the staff, the blade sticking into the wood and leaving the man unarmed. He is smacked at his head and he faces the wall with a thud. A grunt from wielder and the man is jabbed hard in the curve of his back by the bottom of the staff, a cracking of bone echoing in my ears.
The man from the ground is back on his feet with a sword in hand. He thrusts the blade at Thranduil but he blocks with his staff, pulling out his knife and with a raging blow, breaking the sword in half with it.
He grabs the man's collar and holds him up with one hand, an anger burning in his eyes like fire. "If I ever see your face again I will make you suffer before burning your flesh from your bones," he threatens in a way that makes me think he could be evil. But he tosses his knife and grasps it again, hitting the man in the skull with the back of the handle and letting him fall to the ground.
He stares at the fallen man and puts away his knife.
I begin to back up as I still lie on the ground, grasping my ripped tunic to my bare chest and trying to cover up, a wincing pain all over that makes me hardly able to move.
I hear a door open somewhere far behind me and the king's eyes flash to mine, not even glancing at my bare skin. Without hesitation he runs forward, taking off his outer cloak that is over his long tunic and throwing it around my shoulders. But I am too weak to hold it there.
He makes sure I am covered from his gaze and wraps one arm around my shoulders and his other under my legs, pulling me up in his arms, leaving his staff in the hallway and carrying me as the room spins and I feel blood running down my hair.
Flashes of colors go dizzily in front of me as I try to keep my eyes open, straining not to pass out here.
Weakness takes my body... where am I being carr-?
I feel soft under me and the silky cloak still wrapped around my body. I sit on something with a weary posture.
I hear frantic feet of just one person as I try to blink at the darkness. My arms are tightly bound around my torso, covering myself without knowing it. But my head feels light... and I stray almost into shadow.
I damp cloth is placed at the back of my head and held to hold me up, a faint voice in front of me, "My lady, Vilora stay with me."
I know that if I black out now I might not be able to control my blood flow so I stay awake.
"Can you hear me?" the familiar voice asks worriedly.
"Mhm" I mutter, the sound escaping like a cough.
"I need you to hold this here. Can you do that?"
I nod and take the cloth in my hand, holding it tightly against my head with shaking fingers.
He retreats and gets more cloth as I hold what I have, letting my other hand touch the fabric that I sit on... I sit on a bed, and the sheets are not mine, but thick, royal quilt.
I grasp the robe around me tightly closed, fastening the button at the collar to keep it that way, after I pull my arms through the huge sleeves. I tell myself that I am alright, and that makes me feel less faint.
I hadn't realized that he is now at eye level with me, six inches from my face as I try to sit up straight. He takes my shaking hand that is covered in blood and wipes it with the cloth, staining it with red.
I take a deep breath, realizing that my rib cage burns as it expands, and I cringe, leaning forward without thought and screwing up my face in pain.
"My dear," he says and I look into his concerned, bright blue eyes.
"I'm fine," I lie.
He grasps me by the waist before I fall headfirst and secures me.
I wince even when he is gentle with me.
"They bruised you badly," he mutters with anger in his whisper but also so much sympathy.
I try to speak but it hurts to try.
He places a hand at my cheek. "You should lie down, arwenamin."
I nod but want his hand to stay there forever. I try to scoot further on the bed to lie down but I cringe.
He pulls me in his arms like before and places me, to where my head rests on his pillows, like a child
I swallow from the pain in my gut.
I breathe. Not that I can think clearly at the moment, but I notice how this king is treating me; like I am of his own blood. Why do I deserve such treatment when all I have done is killed his son and stayed in his very kingdom for free, then merely insult him after?
He keeps the cloth at the back of my head that I lie on, applying pressure to stop the bleeding, though there isn't much now.
His eyes are calm and gentle as they rest on the hand at the back of my head.
"Thranduil..." I try to say but it comes out as a whispering murmur that I am surprised he even hears. I try to be clear. "I'm so sorry... for everything I..."
He looks at me in a way that silences me. He puts his free hand on my face again, his fingertips grazing my cheek bone lightly. "Save your apologies for when they are needed, Vil."
I just look into his eyes. How does he forgive me? I don't deserve this.
He looks sweetly at me, his eyes sparkling like the first star you see after the sun is down. I lay close to the edge, letting his face be a foot from mine as he kneels by the bedside.
His eyes search around my face and his brows let his expression show more sympathy, his fingers still on the skin of my cheek. "You are so pale..." he breathes.
"Hey I've always been pale," I say, managing to create a smile on my blood stained lips.
He returns it, though his eyes show concern still. He lifts his hand to wipe the blood off my lips gently with one finger in the cloth.
Our eyes are locked. Through the whole time I have been here this elf has seemed so mysterious and intimidating. I lived in fear of his reign but also in what he knew about me. I worried that he would treat me differently than the others because of my past and origin. And he has but for the better. I know now that he cares for me. Maybe not just in the any-friend-of-my-son-is-a-friend-of-mine kind of way. He knows me now and I know him... though he revealed so much of his story all at once I may need a while of processing it all before I can think straight. It was tragic. And I owe him more than my life now...
I focus on breathing right now before I lose track of keeping myself from passing out.
Silence falls between us as he cleans my hands from blood.
"What..." I manage to breathe out, "what happened to those men? Are they...?"
"No," he says quietly, not looking up yet. "But they will remember what they have done... and if they are not gone from this kingdom by morning I will end them."
I don't respond but focus on his fingers gently touching mine as he cleans my palm. I notice that he is wearing a dark colored tunic and trousers, silver boots. The most casual I have ever seen the king-he's a king. I almost forgot.
It is significantly improper for me to be here.
I try to lift my head. "I should go to my room..." but I recoil once the pain again strikes in my sides and head, the room spinning. Breathe, Vilora. Breathe. I can't pass out now.
"My lady you cannot move," he says plainly.
"Yeah I just noticed," I say humorously.
"I would not let you leave," he says standing up. "Not until I was sure that those foul beings were gone."
"I can't stay here... Nin will suspect..." I trail off. But I think to myself and look up at Thranduil. "Don't elves have some healing spells?"
He seems to remember something after pondering with this thought. He leans down to me and hesitates before he places a hand on my rib cage, making sure that it is under my breasts but still touching where my ribs are bruised. But this touch makes my heart pound from nervousness. He speaks softly... "Tanka harwar... Aman tel' Seldarine..." He places a hand at the back of my head, his eyes still on the first wound as his brows pull together in thought of the words. "Ama poldora..."
After a few seconds I ask, "Did it work?"
He chuckles softly. "It will take time..." he looks up at me, "but perhaps not as long as it would on its own."
I smile as much as I can, which isn't much. I look away from his father-like, piercing eyes. "My lord?"
"Yes, darling?"
I look up at his hard face that now looks gentle. "Thank you."
He bows his head slightly with a subtle but sweet smile.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
_______________
PS: please please please COMMENT and tell me anything on your mind or what you think so far. I REALLY need reviews if i am to grow as i writer! thank you!