Something Evil This Way Comes

Disclaimer/Author's Notes: I own nothing but the Original Characters and their adventures. Everything else belongs to JRR Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema/Peter Jackson, et. al. This was done purely for entertainment and as an exercise in creativity.

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The next morning, Alex was forced to attend a “brunch”, as she would have called it, with some of the Haradrim women who accompanied their lords to the treaty signing. There were wives and concubines, though only the senior ones; the lesser ones were left back in Harad. In addition, the ladies of Gondor and Rohan, Eryn Lasgalen, East Lorien and, much to Alex’s delight, the Rhunian Elves, were in attendance. Arwen encouraged every female in everyone’s entourage to attend, and Alex, while wishing she were with the males, where the good stuff was being discussed, found herself surrounded by several very distinct, but undeniably feminine groups.

Gondor and Rohan were led by Arwen and Lothiriel, queens of the realms, with Eowyn, as the wife of the Prince of Ithilien and sister of the King of Rohan, next in precedence. Alex, as Lady of the Elves of Ithilien and wife of the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen followed in order, so, thankfully, she was pretty much free to do as she pleased. Then came an assortment of ladies connected to various lords and domains, including Charika, as Alex’s friend and Rumil’s partner. and Meriel, as Haldir’s companion. From Eryn Lasgalen and East Lorien there were several she-Elves, including one that seemed to be of particular interest to Glorfindel, an elleth called Eamane. Gilraen, one of the Rivendell warriors who had taken up residence in Ithilien, accompanied several she-Elves from Rhun, having stayed there as an ‘ambassador’ of sorts, helping teach their eastern kin the ways of the western Elves.

The Haradrim women were led by the senior wife of their premier chieftain, Lady Krionen. The western women and elleth were intrigued by the exotic clothes, jewels and veiling, the Haradrim women wore. Charika explained to Alex that the status of the lord dictated how elaborate the costumes of their wives and concubines were. One eastern woman walked past in a gown of multiple layers of sheer fabric of various colors with a wide jewel encrusted belt which cinched her waist, and a headdress with gold bangles holding a long, pale green veil. Her arms were covered with metal and jeweled bracelets, and she wore rings on every finger, including the thumbs.

“She must have a powerful man,” Alex commented as she and Meriel exchanged looks that said they were not certain if they liked the outfit or not.

Charika glanced at the woman as she passed and sniffed disdainfully. “She is the concubine of some minor hanger-on to the court.”

Alex enjoyed mingling with the she-Elves of the east; she had not seen many of them when she was in Rhun. Gilraen seemed happy to be back with some of her western kin. She and Meriel were soon deep in conversation in a corner while Alex and a slightly nervous Charika talked with the females of Vanurion’s company. One of the eastern elleth, Pomaea, told her the new leader of the Elves of Rhun had brought only a few of their people. It was the first time most of them had ever been to the west, and they were quite thrilled to be here.

Pomaea and her people were much more open and less reserved than Legolas’ people, and she noticed Charika seemed to be warming to them quickly. She’d known them only a few hours, yet seemed much more relaxed around them than the Elves she lived with in Ithilien.

Alex lost track of time, smiling, laughing, conversing and otherwise forcing herself to socialize with the chattering, somewhat irritating women. She was surprised to find she was more at home with the she-Elves, both her husband’s kin and the eastern ones, than with the mortal women.

She turned to say something to Charika, who had been listening with awe as Gilraen and Pomaea told of a recent warg hunt they’d been on and noticed her friend had turned pale and a look of mingled pain and surprise on her face. Following her gaze, Alex saw she was staring at a magnificently clad woman speaking with Lothiriel of Rohan. She had not yet been introduced to the woman, trying her best to stay out of anyone’s line of sight on the mortal side of the house.

Reaching over to Eamane of East Lorien, Alex touched the elleth’s arm lightly, getting her attention.

“Do you know who that woman is, talking to Lothiriel?”

The she-Elf glanced at the women. “Lady Krionen. She is apparently the First Wife, or senior wife or some such designation, of the Premier of the Haradrim.” Alex thanked her and turned back to Charika.

“Friend of yours?” she asked the still staring woman. Her friend tore her gaze away and looked at Alex.

“My mother.”

Alex was surprised. “Then, why don’t you go speak to her? How long has it been since she’s seen you? Did you know she was going to be here?” Well, obviously, the surprise on Charika’s face was a pretty good indication that she hadn’t expected to see her mother in Gondor, so Alex figured that last question was moot. Still, the woman made no move in Krionen’s direction.

“No. I cannot speak with her. Alex, I must be excused. I … do not feel well. Will you please give the queen my thanks for inviting me?” Without waiting for an answer, Charika slipped through the crowd, careful to avoid the Haradrim women, particularly Krionen.

Meriel and Eamane had noticed her agitated departure and looked in askance at Alex. She shrugged.

“It’s her mother,” she said and both elleth simultaneously asked why she had run away.

“I don’t know. Maybe they don’t get along.” Eamane shook her head and turned her attention back to Gilraen and Pomaea. Meriel, however watched the door through which Charika had disappeared, a speculative look in her eye.

Turning to Alex, she said, “I would like to speak with you privately, my lady. If it is convenient?”

“Of course,” Alex replied. She found Arwen and she and Meriel thanked her for inviting them to the gathering, including Charika’s appreciation as well.

“She is not ill?” the Gondorian queen said, a look of concern on her lovely face.

“She has not been feeling well, and had an illness a few months ago from which she still suffers occasional effects,” Alex evaded. “Meriel is going to check on her later.”

Arwen nodded and excused them, though the look in her eye indicated she thought there was more to the story.

Once they’d reached freedom, both Alex and Meriel breathed sighs of relief.

“I hate those kinds of things,” Alex said as they made their way to her and Legolas’ chambers. “I always feel like I’m on the verge of just plain slapping someone.”

“I must admit, I have not been among so many mortal women at once. If Charika feels as uncomfortable as I did, then I marvel at her self-control living among Elves.”

Opening the door to their sitting room, Alex indicated Meriel should sit while she changed clothes. Unlacing her gown and letting it drop, she pulled out one of the simple day-gowns that just dropped over her head, the wide neck line dropping provocatively low on her shoulders. It would do for when Legolas came in later, and her thoughts turned decidedly wicked as she thought of her handsome husband. She kicked off her slippers, then went back in to the sitting room.

Pouring herself and her guest each a goblet of wine---the good stuff, straight from Thranduil’s cellars---she said, “You were uncomfortable? I’d have never known it.” She handed Meriel her wine, adding, “I wish I could be as serene as the Elves. Sometimes I think Legolas is just going to snap one day because of my silly emotional outbursts.”

The elleth gave her a slight smile. “Legolas is a Mirkwood Elf. They are known for their skill as archers, assasins and their ability to get along with almost anyone. I assure you, you are in no danger of driving him to distraction. At least not with occasional bouts of temper.”

Alex looked at the she-Elf and laughed in surprise. “You know, I never thought I’d like you very much, but, you’re alright, Meriel.” The other female raised a brow, but nodded in appreciation.

“I appreciate your honesty, Alexandra.” She set down her goblet and looked directly at the woman.

“Charika is with child.”

The flat statement of fact hung in the air. Alex did not know how to respond. Charika had not told her not to tell anyone, but it was obvious she did not want it advertised. However, Meriel was not asking a question.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because it is true.”

“How do you know?”

Meriel leaned back in her chair. “Besides the eye of a healer? She has gotten fuller in the bosom and her lower belly is a bit larger. She is unusually pale, especially in the morning, and tires easily. There is a slight discoloration on her forehead, nose and cheeks that is not yet discernible to mortal eyes, but I know the signs. And I can sense the babe.”

Alex did not know what to say. “Sense it?”

The elleth nodded. “It has its own presence.”

A horrible thought occurred to Alex. “Can all Elves … sense the baby?”

“If they are looking for it.” Understanding dawned in Meriel’s eyes. “You mean, can Rumil sense it. If it is his child, then, of course he can. He would know from the moment of conception of its existence. However, I have spoken with him---just general things about how Charika is faring---and I do not believe he knows; therefore, it cannot be his babe. Also, he has not bound himself to her; hence, it is unlikely there would be any possibility of it being his.”

The woman sighed and drained her goblet of wine. Setting it on the table next to her, she closed her eyes.

“Charika believes it it Lastharos’ child. He raped her repeatedly during her incarceration, according to what she and Legolas have said. He certainly had ample opportunity to impregnate her.”

“I am concerned that she will have a difficult pregnancy. Having examined her, she is very small. I … fear she may not be able to deliver the child safely.”

“She doesn’t want to deliver it at all,” Alex said without thinking. She caught herself and saw the look of shock in Meriel’s eyes. Elves never had unwanted children; they chose the time of conception for each one, and so could not imagine an unexpected, undesired pregnancy.

Alex explained what Charika had told her of the consequences of an unplanned pregnancy among her people, and the she-Elf shared her disgust.

“She is terrified Rumil will cast her aside when he learns of the baby, and she doesn’t know what to do. I’m afraid she’ll run away, at best, or, in a worst-case scenario, will harm herself.”

Meriel appeared deep in thought. She had known Rumil for millennia; she truly believed he would stand by Charika in this situation. But at what cost?

“He will not desert her,” the elleth said. “He would not blame her for what happened. And I do not think he would mistreat the child. But I doubt he would ever love it. I do not think he could give it the kind of affection a child deserves from its father, or in his case, father-figure.”

“That’s what Legolas said,” Alex mused. “I asked him what he would have done if I had wound up pregnant from my own little … escapade last year. He said virtually the same thing: he’d stand by me, and raise the child, but could never love it.”

“And what of the father, this Lastharos? If he were to know of the child’s existence, would he try to take it? Would he even want it?”

Alex shook her head. “I don’t know anything about the man, except he seems to be seriously twisted.” At Meriel’s uncomprehending look, she explained. “He gets his pleasure from inflicting pain on others, and seems not to care who he hurts; he has no moral values that we would recognize.”

“He sounds like a true devotee of darkness,” Meriel said. “Please, try to speak with Charika about this. Have one of the other healers here in Minas Tirith examine her. Perhaps a mortal would know more about her condition, but I do not believe she will have an easy time delivering this child. It could kill her.”

“I will try,” sighed Alex. “She is adamant in her refusal to talk to Rumil about it. She can’t hide it, but she won’t tell him. I don’t know what’s going through her mind.”

Legolas arrived just before it was time to dress for dinner. He downed two goblets of wine before pausing to change clothes. Alex, who had snuggled against him on the sofa laughed.

“Was it that bad?”

“You have no idea,” he replied. “I believe I have a headache from listening to this incessant babbling. I know you are mortal, my love, but does your kind ever get tired of hearing themselves talk?”

“You think the men are bad; you should’ve been in a huge room full of women. Jewelry jingling, swishing fabric, lots of laughs and giggles and false joviality. Cattiness like you wouldn’t believe. And perfumes! I had forgotten the fascination some women have with perfume. I mean, individually, it was probably fine, but all together, even my nose was tired. I’m sure the she-Elves were miserable.”

He eyed his wife. “We are not meant to do this, are we Alex?”

“Nope.”

He shrugged out of his tunic and tossed it carelessly at a nearby chair, where it missed and landed on the floor. Pulling her onto his lap, he gave her a lingering kiss, then sighed as she rested her head against his shoulder.

“Then let’s just leave. No more functions, no more protocol, no more pretending to be interested in things that mean nothing to us. No more formal clothes, no more crowns, tiaras, dress uniforms---nothing but you and I, at home, with our dogs and our friends. We will eat what we like, when we like and not worry about the order of the courses. We will stay in bed until we are ready to arise, and will make love whenever and wherever the mood strikes us.”

“Oh, Legolas. If we could do that, I’d be in heaven. But, you know, we can’t. You’re the Lord of the Elves of Ithilien; you’re an Elven prince. You’re the close friend of the Kings of Gondor and Rohan. You’ll never be free of this sort of thing as long as you remain in Middle Earth.” The thought of him leaving these shores and taking a ship into the west, as always, caused her heart to ache. He could sense her sadness and kissed her forehead gently.

“Then I suppose I will endure this foolishness. I will not say I will enjoy it, but since I will never leave Middle Earth if means leaving you, then, I suppose, we are stuck with the clothes and the circlets and the dinners and the inane conversation of others.”

She smiled and blinked back the tears that always threatened when she thought of his leaving.

“I wish you could go with me,” he said. “Now, that would be perfect: if you were in Valinor with me.” He looked down at her glistening eyes. “Do not cry, my sweet. We will always be together, whether we are in Valinor or elsewhere. If I could have you with me, I would gladly dwell in the void. I know.” He tilted her face to his and kissed her again. “I will build a ship and we will just sail west. If we make it the Undying Lands, I will beg the Valar to let you stay with me. If they refuse, we will simply ignore them are remain anyway.”

“I thought mortals couldn’t find the ‘straight road’ or whatever it’s called,” she laughed.

“They cannot. I will sail the ship. I am of the Firstborn. It is a perfect plan. And if we do not find the straight road, then perhaps we will find a land where we can dwell forever together; or we will simply sail the seas for eternity. As long as I am with you, I care not.”

“I will go wherever you lead, my love,” she said, pulling his lips to hers.