|
His world shifted in fogs of whites and blacks, as ever he let his shuttering soul flirt with the dark halls of escape. Even Haldir’s careful whispers did gain a response. So total was his exhaustion, he lay without movement beyond his shallow breaths. His total energy spent, and his scars burning against his skin as if they were fresh. The chains with each tied to him finally more than he could carry. For years bearing them had lended him strength, but now, they were simply too great. Haldir looked on, his worried moon eyes trembling uneasily. To Rexanna’s assurances he sighed, and held his place, but still uneasiness clutched his chest.
In this state, he was, as she hoped, powerless. In totally still mind, ever such a rarity, her words slip in without resistance. He really loved her? Inward his heart pangs. Love. Ever called a strength but look what that ‘real love’ did. Look where it left him….
She questions him, her breath rolling over his poll, and brushing the white mane for his leafen star. ‘Would your lover and son be proud of you….’ His face grimaces, the first outward reaction he gives. “Her name was Arwen.” His voice wavers, but holds, correcting her. Slowly his head lifts, but they stare blindly forward. “She was a royal. I was an advisors son, marred by the blood of a soldier. I was meant to keep silent and do as told. Nothing more.” A faint distant laugh left his lips like a ghost.
They came up the hill, the still frail colt exhausted by the effort. The chestnut Valkyrie was ever giving though, and her warm breath rolls over his poll in encouragement. Yet she shrinks back at the coming form. ‘You’re late.’ Came the harsh sire’s voice. The golden colt’s face contorts as he meets for the first time, his father.
The golden son trundled after his father into the wooded ring. He does not trip with worry, or duck his head in reverence, oh no. His mother was the Fire Valkyrie. He was her son, and her fire lived in him. So his head held high he steps among the judging and condescending eyes.
‘Finally Celeborn.’ Came the booming tongue of the black stallion at the head of the gathering. The Lord, Edrahil, his mother had coached him. He was to have a small chat with the Lord where he would be welcomed, then he could go find his brother.
But this was the moment, this was the hour. The small colt’s chest rose. ‘The drought continues to worsen. What news do my advisors bring of it?’ The gold chest fell. Wait…he was supposed? The child looked to his father, but the cremello’s head was turned away, speaking on about the shrinking lake.
‘Fath-‘ But a tasseled tail flicked his rump. Harks pin back as he looked around the council and all ignored the small colt. Milk teeth gritted and his small nose gave a snort. ‘I am Thranduil.’ The voice spoke volumes above what the calm others, and the meeting silenced.
The colt wavered and he looked back to his mother but he could not see her, for she had turned away in shame. But he was not afraid. ‘I am of Celeborn the Wise, and Tauriel the Fire Valkyrie.’ At her name the faces of shock turn sour. ‘I am Thranduil the golden son. And I will be recognized.’
Celeborn looked back to his son in angered regret, but the colt’s eyes were only on the Lord. All was silence for several long seconds, but the colt did not yield to the steel gaze. ‘Celeborn.’ The Lord’s harsh voice cut through and the cremello ducked his head. ‘You’d do well to teach this son his place.’ Celeborn’s eyes burned with rage. ‘Yes m’lord. Go Thranduil.’ The gold colt turned, and with a light proud trot, left.
“We met at her mother’s funeral…”
The golden face frowned to see the small white child struggle. Her shell so fragile and see through. His mind tossed uneasily, and then an idea crept into his head. He stepped from the circle of grievers back into the shadows.
The gold shadow slipped behind her dashing from her head the small trinket of a crown. Tossing it on his he stepped up to greet her. The dull gold eyes rose to the next passer, and then her head tilts. Her eyes catch a familiar object on his head, and despite herself she giggles.
“…we fell in love at my mother’s.”
The small thicket was finally silent. The colt tangled within had no tears and sobs left. It was only then she stepped forward, her steps light and her touch on his shoulder gentle. He jerks but sees her and despite what he thought, the tears press hot again. The girl lowers to him, her white mane falling over him as she curled around him.
When he calmed again, she nudged him. ‘Oracle will know.’ For she, in her fresh grief too, did not. But the wise storyteller would. The small gold head nodded, and she untangled him from the web of vines, and they stumbled through the night to the Storyteller’s cave.
“I promised her to be there forever….”
‘Arwen, I don’t understand!’ The raging white mare paused in her storming away, and spun on him. ‘DO NOT pretend to deny it Thranduil.’ Her bitterness brought tears to her eyes, and a fear drove a stake into his heart. Was this the end of it? ‘I saw how you look at Nellas. I know you two still meet at Oracles! You traitor! You bas-‘ He feels each blow of the knife in his chest. ‘Arwen!’ She goes on, standing there, her tears flowing freely. ‘I won’t have it, I know you love her!‘ ‘Only as a sister Arwen!’ ‘LIAR!’ She yells and storms on. In the shadows the small shape hidden in the grove collapse in silent tears.
‘Arwen stop!’ She goes on and the gold grows more determined. He surges forward, his hooves picking up quick and slide before her to halt her rampage. Blinded by her tears she crashes into him, her words still muttering insults. He stands there, and lets her, his shield taking her beating till finally…’Arwen…’ A broken sob chokes out. ‘Do y-you Thranduil…’ His leafen stared head falls over her neck, pulling her towards him. ‘Arwen, you know I love you.’ She pulls back her eyes still accusing him. ‘But do you promise.’ His head tilts in his confusion as she goes on. ‘Do you promise to always love me. Only me. No matter what.’ As possessive as he was, she ever his equal. The gold’s face contorts but not in regret or anguish, but in the seriousness of the love they bore. ‘I swear Arwen…’ His voice breaks, flowing freely with the smooth love. ‘I will always love you, and you alone.’
“…and she promised me.”
‘What will we do!’ Her voice wailed, it white hide shook with the fear of the idea. But the gold was too angry to comfort her. ‘Why is he doing this!? He knows you would not consent!’ The pure mare’s face lights up, with shock and fear. ‘Nellas….’ The gold turns to her in suspicion. ‘Nellas must have told him about…’ Her voice broke and she could not finish. Thranduil’s eyes glazed. She betrayed them?
Finally, the pure mare’s voice broke the silence. ‘I can’t-I WON’T.’ Her hoof stomped but the gold finally looked to her in pity. ‘You must…’ Came his whispered reply. The gold eyes turned to him, and she broke at last into tears, ran to him, and buried her head into his chest. ‘Thranduil I-‘ But he hushes her, and pulls from her, his eyes leveling to hers. ‘Arwen you must. But. Do you love me?’ Her face grows serious, but he goes on. ‘Will you love me and only me. No matter what.’ She silent for a second and then her heart breaks. ‘I will always love you, and you alone.’ She repeats. ‘Then nothing will stand in our way.’ The threat trembled behind it and for the first time all day the girl smiles. He steps forward again, nibbling at her withers…and the world fades to black….
“Then she became pregnant-“ His voice shivered. “With my son.”
The strange wildlife, so foreign, scattered as he lead the soldiers through the jungle. He was still raging inwardly as he followed the trail. It had been too long. He should have been allowed to search months ago. He shouldn’t have sent those idiotic fools of spies. They wouldn’t be able to find a haystack let alone the needle. But the Lord had commanded…and enforced the command with guards and chains. Thranduil was not to search. Fool! It was as if he’d rather see his daughter die in her missing status than let the two be near each other. He should have been here months ago, to search when the trail was still fresh, perhaps she would still be- The gold silenced the clattering soldiers behind him. Something was stirring just ahead and…’Go I heard something at the rear.’ The soldiers grumbled, they were tired of being bossed around by the bastard, but they went.
Alone, the gold stepped ahead and into the small clearing. Laying peacefully at the edge, glowing in radiant white, ‘Arwen.’ The mare’s head jerks, fearful, but at seeing the golden son, she smiles, and stands. Her stomach rises, swollen and large. The gold’s heart caught in his throat as she gleams at him. He rushes towards her. ‘Thranduil….’ But she’s cut short. The small battalion of steel rushed from the side (having ignored his orders). The white mare grows fearful, as the horns level around her blocking her in, but threatening- ‘BACK AWAY!’ A voice roared above the clinking armor. The troops look, but with growls in their throats. ‘You’ll not touch her.’ The gold closes the last few steps, the soldiers giving room, not daring to move against the gold openly. ‘You’ll not harm her….or my child.’ He sides next to her, the two touching noses as the grumbles and hisses surround them.
“The council and Lord were furious…”
’Celeborn!’ It yelled across the hills, joyful and light. ‘Father!’ That name had not accompanied it though for many years. The cremello stallion looked up annoyed. ‘Did you fi-‘ But the gold cut him off. ‘Celeborn, I’m to be a father!’ The elder stallion grumbles as he turns to the halting youth. ‘You wha-‘ Then his face falls blank, and pale. His voice shakes. ‘By who..’ The gold was still too high to notice it. ‘Arwen father. Don’t you see!’ He laughs, blind to his father’s horror. ‘Celeborn. We do not have to ally with the Algiers now we-‘ But Celeborn had recovered. ‘Silence!’ Now it was the gold’s turn to let his face fall. ‘Cele-‘ But the cremello had recovered. ‘How dare you!’ A guarded woundedness strikes the youth, and he steps back. ‘How dare you, you little sh-
“ I was to be banished.”
The council stood around him, their faces taunt and firm, but the gold’s was a match for any, as he glared at the cremello beside the black Lord as he spoke. ‘And so for your crime, as ruled by this council, you are hereby banished from this land and that of our allies, from this day till your last.’ The gold did not flinch, instead he hissed back, his eyes never leaving the cream figure. ‘Is this a unanimous decision?’ The face of Celeborn grimaces with anger. ‘It is.’ The adviser hissed.
Finally the gold’s head snaps to the Lord. ‘I will not yield.’ The council stirs and the Lord nods his head. Armor could be heard clinking at the gate to the ring. The gold was not phased. ‘I challenge for Arwen, to those who may claim her.’ His earth eyes buried into the old black’s. An eruption of murmurs and whispers rises, and the Lord’s old frame trembles with rage. The cremello at his side steps forward, his voice hissing. ‘ Silence!’ The whispers cease. ‘You dare challenge your dying Lord. The one to whom you owe everything.” The soldiers now appeared, and filled in the small clearing around the gold, but his eyes never met them. It snaps to the adviser, his chest rising and his mind set. ‘I do.’ The whispers roar louder, but Celeborn hissed in anger, and disbelief. ‘Then you are no longer my son.’ The face of the gold did not flinch. Celeborn’s rose higher. ‘I absolve all connection, protection, and allegiance to you.’ The face of the gold only grows more vicious. ‘You never showed any.’ The cremello turns and the soldiers close in.
“I fought it. I fought for her against the one who held her claim…”
‘I don’t understand m’lord…’ Said the weary advisor, the lines on his face never more drawn. The aged Lord Edrahil turned to him, his own face exhausted. ‘Three days Celeborn. The Algierian prince will be here in three days.’ The Lord’s face twists to a smile. ‘If….if the challenge is not set till then…he has the claim over Arwen’s hand.’ The cremello’s face sobers with the realization. Instead of battling the elder Lord, Thranduil would be matched, or rather clearly outmatched by an Algerian (Pegasus) Prince. His face contorted, as the last lingering wisps of pale love leave his heart. ‘He needs to be taught a lesson. I consent.’
“....but I didn’t have a chance.”
’THRANDUIL!’ Her voice screamed across the jeering field, the only one of care. ‘GET UP! PLEASE!’ The golden crumbled shape, shakily rises, though his head is low and his balance wavers, his limbs unable by break or strain to hold him. ‘Silence daughter!’ The Lord, shaking and panting with emotion, turns to her as the massive Pegasus lands beside the gold, shaking the earth. ‘You are here to see the consequences of your actions, not to cause a scene. Take her away.’ The guards at the shrieking mare’s swollen sides push her own. Her tear stained head fights to see, but they shove her own.
The massive bay stallion fans his wings, his own sides barely marked. His head rises high, his heart feeling the satisfying justice of crushing his soon to be bride’s villain, who stole her and all her virtue (or so he had been told). It was supposed to be to the end. And he would see it so. Wings lift him off, his hooves brushing the gold’s back as he swings overhead, and the subtle touch knocks the gold to the ground. ‘THRANDUIL!’ But he does not stir.
The massive cretin of the sky circles at a height and turns, diving, hooves outstretched. ‘NO!’ A flash of white. The bay pulls up.
Bay, Gold, and White collide.
“She-.” The distant earth eyes turn back to the cream and gold mare. “She took the last blow...“ His voice strains but lies dead and his eyes pull back away, shutting. “She and he.” He falls into silence, and the long second tick by and only the distant thunder sounds, before he speaks again. “ For it I was to be executed…by ruling of the council.” His voice grew bitter as the scenes of his nightmare move on. “Called for by my own father. It didn’t matter though…” The bitterness drops as quickly as it had come. “There was nothing left there.” His sides shuttered in a sigh, the exhaustion relieved ever so slightly as the burden lifted from his shoulders, even if temporarily.
A shadow moves forward. The dark stag, having heard the tale before, creeps forward. His head is low and his heart heavy, but it beats with the unending love between he and his bonded. Yet it flutters, uncertain of this action, but his goes on. His small frame coming to his and at his side, lowering beside it. The gold shifts to feel the warmth, but he eases. The stag’s legs tuck close and he watches the pair ever closely. It wakens the gold, and his earth eyes open once more.
“What do you want of me Rexanna….” It is low, still buried in exhaustion and grief. “To let them go?” His voice cracks, breaking with the thought. “Rexanna….the world spun on. It has let them go forgotten.” Even now the world was pushing upon the next figurines. A rosen one. Even now his heart, tainted by this spinning world, tainted by the span of years, felt awake because of her. Because of Hotaru. “If I leave the past…” If his heart fully leaves the past. “…they’ll die.” The warped reality was at last revealed. Twisted and mangled as it was by grief. The reason he had clung onto that grief for so long, the reason his attempts to get over them had failed, and the reason his scars still burned to hot a fresh had at last been revealed.
OOC::<333
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
![[Image: 5381546acbe33]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5381546acbe33)
