“What was that?” Legolas cried jerking his head back to the sound. Alenor stood up hurriedly brushing off her skirts a worried light was sparked in her eye. She looked at Legolas and saw he was as worried as her.
“Come on we had best find out,” Alenor tried controlling her shaking voice.
“Can you run?” he asked, eyeing the dress doubtfully. What did he think that the dress hindered her?
“What do mean. . .” Alenor trailed off as he sprinted away. Alenor clutched her dress and ran after him. She now had more means to run to see what the scream was, one to find out and two to strangle the elf.
Those thoughts faded though as she came to large group of Elves. Surprisingly they moved aside for Alenor. She soon found out why. A pool of blood was collected around the form of a still elf. The healers had yet to arrive from the looks of it. Alenor peered closer and nearly fainted.
He had lied! Lied! He had promised! He had said he couldn’t kill himself! The angry thoughts blazed through Alenor’s mind as she nearly succumbed to tears, but forced them away. In a sudden impulse Alenor saw that he was still breathing and she rushed to him. Her fingers closed about the bloody front of his shirt. She lifted him and shook him, probably killing him more, but that thought went unnoticed in her blind anger.
“You promised!” Alenor raged. “You promised you would live again! You promised! How dare you! How dare you!! You promised!” the last came out a half choked sob. “You promised.” She felt a gentle hand rest on her shoulder.
“Alenor?” the voice was small, timid, afraid, someone seeking comfort from someone else.
“Oh Rana,” Alenor nearly broke into tears and she grabbed her brother and buried her face into his shoulder. Her hands now bloodied from shaking Elrohir slipped onto Rana’s shirt.
“It’s okay Alenor,” he whispered soothingly. “It’s okay. I’m so sorry! I’m sorry for everything!” then turning he began to weep upon her shoulder. Alenor thought it must look really pathetic that two grown elves, or near grown were crying upon each other’s shoulders.
“Come on time for bed.” Arwen laid a hand on Alenor’s shoulder. “Both of you children off to bed!” it had been a long time since Arwen had called either of them children, the only reason now was that she was worried.
“Let’s go Alenor,” Rana took her hand drawing his sister to her feet. He reached forward and lightly brushed her tears away and smiled brightly, but the smile deceived him as it refused to light his eyes. “Auntie’s right, we’d better go to bed. . .” he raised an eyebrow. Alenor nodded, a short nod, to prove she understood what he meant.
Alenor hugged her knees, the soft material of the nightdress making her arms slip every once in a while. The blanket had slipped down so it know only covered her feet. In the bed next to her Alenor could hear Rana snoring slightly. Over years she had accustomed to it so the snoring wasn’t was kept her awake. Alenor looked at her brother his back turned to her. They had talked but Rana had nodded off and gone to bed. She sighed why was she trying to sleep when she already knew it was useless?
Alenor pushed the rest of the blankets away and stood. The nights were still chill, clinging to spring. She took a blanket from her bed and fitted it about her shoulders and slipped it beneath her feet. Though the floor was one big rug, the balcony; a tiny thing that she could walk across in twenty steps and had been locked when she was a child, was all stone and froze the feet.
A chill night’s air swirled around the vale attacking and searching for anything that was bare and had no warmth to hide within. It was unnoticed by Alenor as she leaned as far as she dared over the silver rail that glittered with the light of the heavens above. A finger trailed helplessly over the cold rail as Alenor thought.
`He promised,’ she thought. `He promised to live again. He also said he didn’t deserve the death of killing himself.’ She sighed. `Was he drunk? No he didn’t come and auntie would surely have kept him away from the wine bottles. Who else but himself?’ silence stretched out before her in an edged way. Alenor wanted to think, but yet she didn’t, it wasn’t to be helped however. She played her fingers of the railing now tapping them gently and humming a tune off course. `Lindir!’ the thought suddenly blazed across her mind. `Lindir must have done it! Auntie said he was going to get drunk. . .’ she paused her mind whirling her fingers tapped more earnestly. `Uncle must have kept his word about not killing himself. He saw Lindir, probably convinced the drunken Elf that he was enemy and Lindir hurt him.’ Realization dawned on Alenor and her fingers clutched the balcony until her fingers were white as death. She straightened her face an unreadable mask of anger. That Elf was going to get it once and for all! She turned and left the room, blanket dropping on the floor behind her. It mattered not that she was in a plain nightgown. She was going to settle scores with him once and for all!
When Alenor stormed into Lindir’s anteroom she saw the Elf sitting in a chair his head clasped between his hands and he was rocking back and forth. He certainly didn’t look drunk, perhaps it was a headache. A smirk started to spread across Alenor’s face, but she trapped in quick gesture. She shut the door with a bang indicating that she was there, Lindir looked up and once he saw her he dropped his head once more. Alenor walked up to him till she stood so close she could have easily hauled him from the chair by his hair.
“Lindir!” she warned her voice was as cold and sharp as ice. “Where were you when my Uncle was hurt?” perhaps he was yet alive, yes, she must hold onto that.
“I’m sorry,” he moaned. Alenor reached down and hauled him up by the hair. Lindir cried out and tried to get free, only succeeding in hurting himself more.
“Sorry for what?” Alenor growled looking him in the eye. Her free hand was clenched at her side in a tight fist that made her knuckles white.
“I couldn’t think properly,” Lindir said his voice quivering like some child’s that had been caught stealing food. “I saw him in the hall. He told me. . .he told me he was enemy!” Alenor’s eyes narrowed and she jerked his head back.
“What are the rules Lindir?” she hissed. “Do you not know the rules???”
“Yes,” the elf sobbed. “I do! I do! I couldn’t wait though! I couldn’t!” Alenor was slightly pleased to see the Elf shaking in front of her. `No wonder,’ she thought wryly.
“You nearly killed him if you didn’t already!” she shouted in his face. Lindir tried to recoil but had no where to recoil to.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he wept. “I didn’t mean to.” He looked down.
“Look at me!” Alenor ordered harshly. “Look me in the face.” Lindir looked up, but his eyes danced around the room never resting on hers for a second. “I said look at me!” he looked at her licking now his lips. “Do you realize what you have done?”
“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes I have.” Alenor released him, yet as she did so she brought back her fist and punched him in the nose.
“You’re lucky I do not do worse,” she said looking at Lindir who was now on the floor holding his broken and bleeding nose. “For you deserve worse.” She turned and walked to the door. As she was opening it, she was unceremoniously caught.
“What are you doing in Lindir’s room?” Thranduil asked. He was holding Alenor by the arms so she had no where to go. Elrond was standing behind him with a knowing look in his eye as if guessing why she was there. Behind her Alenor could hear Lindir moaning still on the floor, and probably still holding his nose.
“I’m leaving now,” she said. “My business is finished.” Thranduil released her arms and let her pass, obviously suspecting nothing. On the other hand Elrond grabbed her as she walked past him.
“I think we’d best go in ourselves,” he said directing a meaningful glance in the room. Alenor followed them in, trying not to look nervous, she was not upset for what she did, just upset at being punished herself.
“Lindir!” Thranduil dropped to his knees beside the Elf as soon as he saw him. Alenor was sure that Elrond would have gone as well had he not known Alenor would have bolted when he let her go. Alenor swallowed. She was having a few second thoughts about her actions, but she stubbornly gripped it tightly and would not relent.
“Lindir who did this to you?” Elrond pressured slightly. Alenor knew though that he knew it was her. Lindir raised his head slightly and pointed a bloodied finger at Alenor. Alenor pulled behind Elrond slightly, she was proud of what she had done, but she hadn’t counted on getting caught. Thranduil was watching her with an unreadable face.
“I’ll take her to the study where you can talk to her Lord Elrond,” he said standing. He took a firm and hurting grip on Alenor’s arm. She gave a pull, but he only tightened his grip. He dragged her against the wall once they were outside the room and the door shut behind them on noiseless hinges.
“What were you doing?” Thranduil demanded. Alenor looked at him, feeling very much like the mouse that is caught by the cat.
“I was doing what I had to!” Alenor snapped pulling trying to get out of the King’s iron grip. He tightened hold on her arms till she wanted to scream. He lowered his face till he was looking her straight in the face.
“Lord Elrond and I could have dealt with it by ourselves!” he told her. “We knew it was him after Arwen confessed in slipping something into his wine. You had no right to go in there and beat him up!”
“I didn’t beat him up!” Alenor snarled, the mouse was getting worried and was now defending its place. “I punched him! He disobeyed rules! That’s my Uncle! What do you understand? Nothing! Nothing!” She thought that Thranduil possibly couldn’t any angrier, but he did. He shoved her hard, ramming her back painfully against the wall.
“What do you know?” he hissed. Alenor squirmed. He threw her onto the floor, as if possibly knowing that he had no control over his temper now. Alenor scrambled on to her feet. She fled then, before the King could come upon her once again, Thranduil had scared her bad. His eyes looked like living flames waiting to devour something. His voice was thunder that was waiting to consume something. His stature was that of a King that is not kind. A king that crushes people. She fled she wanting nothing to do with him, she had heard tales of Thranduil’s fiery temper, but she had never believed it was that bad.
*-As always thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed!