Like life, revenge can be a messy business. And both would be much simpler if only our heads could figure out which way our hearts will go. But the heart has its reasons, of which reason cannot know.
***
[ANASTASIA’S POV]
The royal long table erupted with laughter. Amongst those laughter, Gimli’s was by far the loudest, followed closely by Eomer, Gamling and David. The men merrily shared hilarious stories that apparently could be found even in the midst of battle that had passed.
And then Gimli had to tell them the story of that hairy, beardy female dwarves. Some of them already heard it before, but they couldn’t seem to get enough of it.
The elves were the ever graceful ones. They weren’t loud, but remained polite, chirping in into the conversation when appropriate. But having much more sensitivity to sounds than mortals, I knew it wasn’t exactly pleasant for them to hear Gimli guffawing and bumping his stout hands at the table while he’s at it. I caught Lord Elrond and Arwen cringed ever so slightly at the sound, but was quick to let it pass and continued to smile serenely, listening. Legolas too, seemed to have been used to Gimli’s presence and only smiled at his dwarf friend fondly.
But not Thranduil. The elven king whose hair was as silvery as melted snow, glared at the direction of the noisy men and dwarf, showing his disapproval at the sounds that they made. He seemed to be constantly raising a thick eyebrow at them–a trait that Legolas must’ve had inherited from him.
I mostly kept to myself, silently observing the banter like Aragorn and his wife did. My mind kept returning back to last night. Of the revenge that I harbored deep in my heart, finally taken.
“Sorry I’m late.”
A steady male voice that belonged to Faramir made everyone pause their banter to greet him. Aragorn invited him to the table, and the blonde warrior took a seat next to Eomer.
“Good morning, Faramir,” greet Aragorn.
Even as a king now, nothing had changed. He remained humble, and he treated everyone around him as equals. If anything changed at all, it would be the fact that he carried more authority and a regal air about him. A new charisma. And with Arwen by his side, he seemed to be happy. At peace.
“I’m still debating it,” answered the previously captain of Gondor. “Early this morning we heard a shocking news from my men at the dungeons.”
“What news?” inquired the king.
“One of our prisoner died sometime last night. Her body was just discovered this morning.”
“Her?”
“The witch,” he answered, “Ungol.”
The table went completely silent at this news. I trained my eyes on the food on my plate, but my head wandered to my heart. Questioning it.
“How did it happen?”
“Poison. We found traces of Hemlock in the bowl of soup that she consumed.”
“You think it came from the kitchen staff or one of the guards?”
“No. The bowl isn’t ours. Not from our kitchen,” he informed them. “Coincidentally, the guard that was on the night shift suddenly became very sick last night. Upset stomach. Seemed that he ate something wrong for dinner.”
“That is no coincidence, lad.”
“So what?” chirped the melodious, velvety voice that belonged to Thranduil, “Good riddance,” he commented before popping a grape into his mouth regally, looking as if he didn’t give a damn about the dead prisoner.
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Thorns & Roses (Legolas Love Story)
FanfictionLEGOLAS/OC. MOVIE VERSE. Desperate to save her father, Anastasia made a grave choice and struck a deal that eventually led her to be banished to Middle Earth. In grief, she thought all that was left of her was hatred. Revenge drove her to set on a j...
