Fan Fiction ❯ Lord of the Rings: Stargaze ❯ Home is Where the Hurt Is ( Chapter 16 )

Home is Where the Hurt Is

"Under sunlight, under day!

South away! and South away!

Down the swift dark stream you go

Back to lands you once did know!

Roll - roll - roll - roll,

roll - roll - rolling down the hole!

Heave ho! Splash plump!

Down they go, down they bump!"

The river waters were consistent and calm, and the Fellowship made good time towards the falls of Rauros. They were drawing very close to Parth Galen when they had to stop for nightfall. The Company set up camp and settled down for the night.

Legolas had been paddling the entire day. He was exhausted. He had found a rather large, nestling tree to sleep in, rather than on the dusty ground, and was ready to give way to unconsciousness.

Then he noticed Arora sitting on a rock by the water of the river. She was staring up at the stars, as usual, and Legolas would not have even considered disturbing her if not for the fact that she had been acting so odd lately.

He hopped down silently from his roost, and approached Arora without waking the others. When he reached her, before he could speak, she did.

"Go to sleep, Woodkin."

Legolas blinked in surprise. It startled him to hear Arora refer to him using the fond nickname that her older brother had for him. Not only was `Woodkin' Arian's preferred way of addressing Legolas, but it was also the way for Elves to name other Elves from different race. Roughly, it meant `Stranger from the Wood'.

Arora smiled a little, glad to be the cause of his confusion.

"Why do you call me Woodkin?" Legolas asked curiously, sitting down beside her.

"No reason," Arora shrugged vaguely. She moved over to make room for him. "I would think you were tired after the long boat ride, mellon nîn."

Legolas was tired, so tired he didn't notice that Arora was changing the subject. He couldn't even suppress his yawn. "I am, and I will sleep. I was just checking on you."

Arora raised an eyebrow. "All right…"

"What were you thinking about?" he asked.

Arora tilted her head as she blinked serenely at the stars. "What do you think the others are doing right now?"

Legolas looked at her in confusion. "What others?"

"Our family, and friends. What do you think they're doing while we are on the Quest?" Arora replied, meeting his eyes.

Legolas found himself falling into the everlasting night of her eyes, and quickly looked at something else. A rock…yes, much better, less chance of falling in love with a rock. Still, her question, seemed interesting.

"Well…" He thought for a minute, then smiled. "My father is probably going through more letters and messages that bring the thought of war closer and closer to his head. I'd reason that his temper is rather short these days."

Arora smiled. That sounded like King Thranduil, without a doubt.

Legolas grinned at the memory of his father, and turned back to Arora. "What about your brother?" He was careful not to mention her parents.

Arora sighed wistfully. "He will be with his hunting party, probably chasing down enough game to feed the throng of Night Elves now at Lemahna-hai."

Legolas nodded. During normal days, there were at best ten to fifteen Night Elves in the valley all together. The others would be on their respective lonely travels. But now, in these dark times, the threat of Sauron and Mordor had stirred them out of hiding.

"What about your mother?" Arora prodded, in order to keep the game going.

"Mother is most likely helping Father…" Legolas replied slowly, "and my sisters as well." He smiled. "And what about your sister?"

"Flaunting her power," Arora laughed a little. "Jewel will be keeping things running smoothly in all the chaos."

Legolas nodded. Jewel could be a bit supercilious at times, but she was a wonderful leader.

"What about Erelya?" Arora asked softly. "I miss her. What would she be up to?"

Legolas smiled yet again at the thought of his eldest sister. "Erelya will be trying to save the world, though she knows little about it in truth."

His words brought another to the front of Arora's mind. She hesitated in asking, but finally she went with it: "And what about Khisanth?"

Legolas stiffened immediately. He whipped his head to Arora, whose blue-violet eyes were emotionless. She waited silently, but Legolas was not happy with the question.

"I care little what my brother does to amuse himself when I am not around to torment," he snapped.

Arora gazed at him, unblinking, impassive. Legolas maintained his stubborn pout until his friend shrugged. She shuffled on her rock a bit, but she didn't look uncomfortable in the slightest.

"Are you sure it does not matter to you?" she asked quietly.

Legolas opened his mouth to answer angrily, but closed it again. A sudden thought had occurred to him…he did care what Khisanth was up to.

He wondered what the Crown Prince of Mirkwood had concocted to torture his subjects with now…

~Mirkwood~

The full moon shone through an enchanted clearing in the black trees, illuminating the ground below. The night was still, save for the occasional hoot of a far-off owl. Dusty wings fluttered by the treetops in the gray gloom of Mirkwood.

Khisanth stood motionless at the center of the clearing. His sword was in his hands. His eyes were closed, his face calm, his body relaxed. He looked…peaceful.

Then he began to move. He brought the sword up and moved it in a great arc; he twirled it and spun in a circle. His body was flowing, he was in tune with his center of balance…his sword seemed to be a part of his body. His motions were graceful and fluid, yet deadly.

His sword and body soon moved much faster, until his practice had become a beautiful, wild dance. Wheeling and spinning, leaping and somersaulting with astonishing ease, Khisanth performed every move faultlessly, and his prodigious agility and dexterity were visible through every curve of his actions.

The entire while, Khisanth's face was entirely different. He was calm, at peace with himself. The madness that was ever present in his gaze had disappeared for the purpose of his sword training. No longer was his face etched with pain and fire, his mental scars showing clearly in his eyes. In truth, while he was twirling the sword as easily as a child picks up a stick, Khisanth looked…beautifully handsome.

Finally, his dance seemed to come to an end. His actions dawdled, to the point where it seemed like he was moving in slow motion. Then he stopped completely.

He stood silently, motionlessly, for a short while more. He then inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the dark woods around him that he had called home his entire life. Walking over to a tree at the closest edge of the clearing, he picked up a glittering sheath, engraved with vines and leaves in gold and green. He started to slide the sword back into the sheath, caressing the blade lovingly as he did so…

"Your highness…? A message for you…"

Khisanth slammed the sword into its scabbard.

The messenger was a female, fair and blonde of course, and she was rather pretty as far as the Wood Elves went. She was one of many Royal Messengers of the palace, about half of which were female. Being connected to the Palace, she was well aware of Khisanth's issues, and being much lower class than he was, she was practically shaking in her position.

Khisanth slowly turned around to see her. His eyes were hard and cruel, and his face was sharply lined. The messenger shivered; she was frightened. Khisanth noticed this, and his expression immediately changed. He smiled warmly.

"Why, thank you for delivering it to me, my dear girl," he purred softly. "May I have it, please?"

The messenger felt a little better, and yet more nervous at the same time. She handed the parchment to the Prince. Khisanth opened it and read it silently.

It was his father's script:

Khisanth-

I have received word from Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel in Lothlórien. The Fellowship departed last night from the Silverlode, and makes swiftly for the Falls of Rauros. They outrun a number of enemies, according to Lórien spies.

Your brother is safe with them, and has become an invaluable asset to their number. The Fellowship is pleased to have him.

Khisanth read all this without saying a word. When he had finished his eyes were practically aflame, and he crumpled the paper in his hand.

The messenger was incredibly curious as to what the letter said. She knew better, however, than to bother Khisanth. Finally, she couldn't take the silence any longer and said hesitantly, "Is it good news, I hope, sire?"

The messenger couldn't see her Prince's face. His long hair was in the way, covering it in shadow. When he didn't respond right away, she felt uncomfortable, knowing she had done something wrong. But when he lifted his head, he was smiling again. He cocked his head at her.

"I truly appreciate you coming all the way to this part of the forest just to make sure this note saw its way into my hands," he said softly.

He took a few steps toward her, until there was less than a foot of space between them. The messenger caught her breath. Despite what she knew about him, Khisanth was unbearably handsome. She could feel her heart pounding at being so close to him, and only half of it was fear.

Without warning his hand reached out faster than lightning and grabbed the back of her neck. The girl gasped.

His touch was freezing. His skin was as cold as death, giving her the impression she had just been drenched in a bucket of ice water. Khisanth didn't let her escape. He held on, and pulled her forward to cover her lips with his own.

The girl was so shocked that she forgot to move at first. The Prince's kiss was strong, smothering her, thrilling her with its intensity. She struggled, but his powerful hands held her tight, and his tongue fought violently inside her mouth.

Just as suddenly as it had started, Khisanth pulled away. He didn't even look at the girl before he flicked his wrist, pushing her head away and causing her to lose her balance and fall to her knees.

"Stupid girl, to follow me into the woods," he murmured emotionlessly, standing beside her, staring into the woods. "Be glad I let you off so easily."

Then he was gone, he had faded into the darkness of the trees, leaving behind nothing except a messenger girl half-raised from the ground, too surprised and mortified to even shed tears.