Savaleaar

Savaleaar

Veroneane strode purposefully towards the garden, hoping she would get a glance at the new ruler, Savaleaar.
Faster and faster she strode, almost running when she reached the picturesque entrance to the gardens, which had been recently redecorated with rare flowers from foreign domains unknown to even her.
Veroneane grasped the ebony rail as she pulled herself through the archway, immediately being enveloped in aromas so rich and thick that it almost made her feel faint at first breath.

Adopting a slow walk now, Veroneane slowly placed one foot in front of  the other being careful not to trample Sebastian’s beautiful garden work which had clearly been renovated earlier in the morning in time for the new arrival of Savaleaar.

What would Savaleaar think of her she pondered, lost in a daze of flowery aromas, when she informed her that Lothlorien was on the brink of disaster…
Orcs had appeared on the western border, although they were quickly slain by the ever faithful archers who took only seconds to disband them, Veroneane had seen what lay in wait, just beyond the second hill adjacent to the forest.
What she had discovered that day had chilled her to the bone…

But still, it did no good to think of bad things; what will happen will happen and it won’t happen any other way. Something that her grandma had taught her long ago whenever she had been lost in worry.

Veroneane was snapped back to reality when someone laid a hand across her shoulder, a hand which bore the ring of Lothlorien. This she guessed, must be Savaleaar.
She moved her head up, taking in the beautiful white gown, the necklace which had embedded into it jewels of faraway lands and finally the electric blue eyes boring into hers.

‘Good day, Lady of the Wood,’ bowing slightly, Veroneane put emphasis on the last four words, taking care to laden her voice with respect and pride.

Savaleaar

Savaleaar looked deeply into her eyes. Veroneane immediately sensed something new in this ruler. Something the previous ones lacked, something, she realised, that made her seem unusually powerful.
What is this new trick she thought, and why had there been a noticeable absence of it in the previous rulers?

‘Welcome, Veroneane…’ Replied Savaleaar.

How had she known my name? Suddenly a wave of doubt and fear swept over Veroneane, taking with it the new exciting feeling of being in the presence of a ruler.

‘…Do not despair little one, I am blessed with wonderful gifts of mind reading in my rulership, something which I can see you are not used to so I she used them only sparingly in your presence.’
Savaleaar removed her hand from her Veroneane’s shoulder, leaving behind a blissful fragrance of utter beauty, and continued admiring the surrounding garden for a moment. A wise smile played across her mouth for a moment, only for a moment, before her eyes rested upon Veroneane again.

Veroneane adopted a new feeling at this point, sensing that she had maybe been wrong to judge Savaleaar so unfairly when she had only glimpsed a moment of her. But there was something…different about her that Veroneane was unsure about, something that she feared would only be answered in long years of wait.

‘The garden is beautiful at this time of year don’t you think Lady Savaleaar?’ Veroneane cast her eyes about, taking in the new primroses which waved in the warm breeze, looking adoringly at the ever-peaceful Mirkwood tree, its branches spanning high into the lightened sky.
When her gaze returned, embarrassment hit her as she realised Lady Savaleaar had not moved her gaze.

‘…I sense something, Veroneane, a certain dislike in you for me, please, tell me, what have I done so wrong to offend your gracious self?’ Savaleaar spoke with kindness.

Veroneane near dropped dead, she had not thought Lady Savaleaar would notice her unfair dislike of her. Obviously she had, and with this, she turned red, dropping her gaze to the floor.

‘It is alright little one, I will not bite,’ Savaleaar spoke with such unusual kindness, a kindness which Veroneane had failed to notice the first time she spoke to her.

‘…I am…so sorry, its just, you…’ Veroneane bottled it, she couldn’t utter such a reply and remain in the presence of the ruler without fainting. She ran, speedily through the newly planted Elfen Taros, past the entrance she had come through and round to the other end of the garden where tall trees grew, some of which she could not see the highest branches.

And there, next to a blossoming Demonu she wept. She had ruined everything, all the hopes she had been building up these past months about how she was looking forward to the new ruler, someone who she may learn to look up, all of it, dashed in an instant.

Savaleaar

Veroneane wept for several more minutes, until a worn hand placed itself on her shoulder. She thought at first it must be Savaleaar, coming back to tell her that she was sorry for placing her on the spot so to speak, but in actual fact it was Sebastian, a volunteer gardener.

‘Why the weeping my little one?’ Asked Sebastian graciously, dropping to his knees to look Veroneane in the eyes.

Veroneane gazed up at Sebastian, taking in the many scents his clothes bore. His hazel eyes matched the waistcoat he was wearing along with muddied trousers, too big to fit his legs.
His hair blond flying around his head unevenly, making him appear handsome. Lines of happiness were etched into his young face, there was a lady in his life.

Veroneane opened her mouth to reply, but no sounds came out, only a stifled cracked voice that she had obviously gained whilst weeping.

‘Its alright little one, all is fine now,’ he pulled her up to him for a hug, a hug which made her feel mountains better when she realised she wasn’t alone in this world of hers.
Her white clothes clashed with his brown waistcoat. She felt dazed for a moment as there hug reached its end.
She closed her eyes, falling into a short brief moment of solitude, broken only by the sounds of circling birds.

He pulled away, standing her up for her. She righted herself, brushing off the newly acquired dew from his waistcoat and a few petals which had strayed from their blossoms.

‘Now are you sure you ok, what were you crying for?’ She felt a pang of annoyance at his directness, but never the less, he had comforted her when no-one else had.

‘…I err…’, her voice cracked, ‘…needed some time…alone.’

He looked perplexed, but before he could make any further inquires she pulled away reluctantly from his gaze pacing a few steps away from his puzzled expression before turning her head and said, ‘Thank you…’

Savaleaar

Veroneane gazed longingly at the birds circling the second Mirkwood tree standing proudly against the edges of the east side of the garden. She wished she could just fly away, far far away into the dense wood, find a place of solitude where she could gather her thoughts.

Instead she paced towards a ebony bench, sitting privately behind a couple of Pebbletone bushes, which where getting to big for their shrubbery location.
There she sat, sweeping the last drops of dew from her gown.

How stupid she had been, why had she judged Lady Savaleaar so unfairly, in fact she had been almost cruel, she now realised how hostile Savaleaar must have felt Veroneane was towards her.

I should go and apologise, she thought, thinking that if she acted quickly, she may be in time to repair the newly damaged relationship that she had founded between Lady Savaleaar and herself.

Rushing up from the bench, she strode purposefully past Sebastian who had re-positioned himself next to a flowering Rosmutter, cropping its dead stems from the winter just past. Quickly she past the original entrance she had started this ordeal from and ploughed through the complicated garden.

Where was Lady Savaleaar? Veroneane had returned to their original conversation point, but Savaleaar was no where to be found. Fear crept back into her stomach as she realised that Lady Savaleaar had probably left thinking that Veroneane was too rude to be friends with.

Round the hedges she ran, searching everywhere, the high garden chairs made for Elves of high ranks, past the spluttering fountains, their waters spilling out through natural streams which ran throughout the garden, the further and further she searched, the more nervous she became.

At long last when she had given up all hope of finding Lady Savaleaar, she returned to the spluttering fountains, where water lilies had grown, carving a certain beauty into the waters.
She realised that the water streams where much like her present situation, unknowing where they were heading.
When finally midmorning had arrived, Veroneane decided it was time to continue with her archery practise, after all, it paid well to be an able fighter.

Just when she was getting up from white stone bench, a hand reached down and took her hand. She didn’t pay much attention to the hand at first, thinking that it must belong to Sebastian.

‘All wise and wonderful people can sometimes become ever so slightly different over time, over taking perhaps the growing youth, surprising their souls, for this is what had befallen you is it not Veroneane?’ Lady Savaleaar spoke this time with tranquillity, pronouncing each word perfectly, lulling Veroneane into surprised state riddled with perplexities.

Veroneane spoke quietly. ‘Lady Savaleaar, I am sorry for my earlier hostility towards you, it was wrong of me to judge you so unfairly.’

Savaleaar smiled, dropping herself to the bench.

‘I thought at first that I must smell terrible to have scared you off so quickly,’ laughed Savaleaar, ‘but then I watched as you wept by the trees with Sebastian and learned that you had noticed something different about me that you maybe had perhaps not noticed in the previous rulers of this land.’

Veroneane smiled, happy that the new ruler had a mild sense of humour as well as wisdom beyond her years.
‘I’m afraid to confirm your thoughts that I had noticed something different about you when I first saw you, but now…it seems you have righted yourself in my minds eye.’ Veroneane lied effortlessly.

‘Good, I’m happy to hear that, seen as we will be working together for sometime to come…’

Lady Savaleaar stood graciously, waiting patiently for Veroneane to join her, it seemed that Lady Savaleaar had bought her story, for now anyway…

Savaleaar – (including all other posts entitled Savaleaar before this post) All Kingdom Garden

Work continued as always for Veroneane as she continued her ever changing duties around the Gardens. Rose Garden work, cleaning of the Blackened Mallorn Memorial, assistance in the winery and an every growing list of other jobs waiting patiently for themselves to be completed. Days felt like weeks, weeks felt like months, something was coming, a different feel to the air had taken its grip upon the golden wood; she was not the only who had noticed the slight lulling sense, as if…keeping you upon your toes, but relaxing you in the same mood.

She kept herself busy, carefully avoiding Lady Savaleaar in fear of her mind gifts discovering that she had in fact lied to her, something that was rarely turned a blind eye to.

Among the many sensational senses and aromas of the rose garden, Veroneane enjoyed working her chores off in their last, something to look forward to at the end of a usually stressful, but enjoyable, day.
But in particular, she found that she had an interesting aptitude for maintaining the Lhach En Harma, meaning Flower of Tranquilities, which had taken up a unusual amount of room in comparison to the other roses of which all bloomed elegantly. The Lhach En Harma  has a certain effect on different people, for some folk it made them feel slightly hazy, nauseated in fact, where as for some people it could smell truly wonderful, reminding them of their favourite smells quickly plunging them into a brief world of bliss.

It was after brushing off the remaining new soil off the aging leaves of the Lhach En Harma that Veroneane noticed a couple of hushed elves whispering very quietly to each other, suddenly one of them went frightfully pale, began breathing heavily and walked away, exiting the garden in moments.

Veroneane’s  eyes darted around attempting to calculate a plausible explanation into the strange happening, but nothing came to her mind, so, slightly uncomfortable now began on her second Lhach En Harma readying them for their inspection later this afternoon by the garden mistress.

Veroneane glanced at the remaining elf who had been the second conversation partner, he  was quite obviously preparing a journey to the Storage Sheds, having collected his equipment away in a small wheelbarrow.

She decided to follow…
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Savaleaar – All Kingdom Garden/The Storage Shed

Veroneane near-glided, using one of the many useful gifts given to certain individuals of a high enough calibre in the hierarchy of Elves, through the perfected lawns and wild flower beds which flooded the side paths between the gardens.
Deciding on an element of secrecy, Veroneane made hardly a whisper of wind as she effortlessly tracked the elf to the storage sheds which held all garden equipment used by volunteer gardeners.

The elf slowed when he emerged through the clearing and into the bays of storage sheds lined up. He paced to the nearest one, making hardly a rustle himself and stepped inside.

Veroneane followed up behind him and stayed the perfect angle behind him for him to enter whilst she remained perfectly his opposite. A perfect symmetrical equal. This provided her a excellent way of coming into the storage sheds without her having to spin an excuse to enter as well, as this would obviously create tension and an element of suspicion thus defeating the point of why she was there. A sense of achievement settled in, as she realised that she had handled the entrance quite easily enough.

Having managed the tricky job of entering, she flew towards an empty corner, and, concealed by the veil of darkness, waited. Hours it seem she waited, when in actual fact it was just mere minutes.
Unfortunately,  as she had flung herself across so quickly her arm cotton had latched itself onto a protruding mow, and unbeknownst to Veroneane, any slight move could cause this entire mission as to speak to go belly up.

Finally the door of the storage shed re-opened, causing Veroneane to panic ever so slightly due to the absence of warning which she usually picked up through the gift of sophisticated hearing all Elves acquired through hereditary means. And, unfortunately again, this panic had caused her arm to flicker like a candle ever so slightly to the left, bringing the mow off its loose handles and come crashing down onto the concrete floor.
The third party who had chosen to enter without anything such as a knock, sailed in, shutting the door as quickly as it had opened, having taken only a moment to enter shut the door and wiz across to the other side of the containment. Luckily for Veroneane the third party had already preoccupied the first Elf, giving her just enough time to cast an ‘unnoticeable’ upon herself:

ybn heten lamefa fin hëten alrogbe Iein leadpu orfen plien ymen núen-pocensa issaperanceda
ybn heten lamefa fin hëten alrogbe Iein leadpu orfen plien ymen núen-pocensa issaperanceda
ybn heten lamefa fin hëten alrogbe Iein leadpu orfen plien ymen núen-pocensa issaperanceda
im leadpu…

A silent light illuminated in front of her body, seemingly wrapping itself around her in moments breezing through her thoughts and emotions gripping itself on, reluctant to let go…
So with the spell cast and her body within its barrier, she moved silently away right past the elf who’d cast his glance backwards in half suspicion half fear…after all, what one does not know, one fears…

But as soon as he’d glanced back, he brought forth a flickering torch of flame and flooded the once dark corner with light, seemingly revealing nothing…

‘..What are you doing Benion? Have you gone completely mad….’ Asked the 3rd elf, ever so slightly irritated that something which was planned to have taken about a minute was delayed…

‘…I thought….never mind… Now tell me,’ seriousness falling back into his voice, ‘what are these rumours concerning the Lady Of The Wood…?’

Veroneane’s ears pricked up just as the third elf’s face ran a shade paler than usual.

The elf spoke with complete seriousness, clearly disturbed at what he had learned.

‘Whispers have come to my attention, whispers from close sources not usually wrong. According to the Istari Counsel, the Lady of the Wood has seemingly, if not accidentally, leaked a phrase which has sent a spasm of fear through the Elvish underground and Wizarding world,…I deciphered the code this morning, it reads, ‘The Lady Of The Wood, She Is Not Who She Says She Is’.

Veroneane’s blood froze.

Savaleaar – Entrance to the Palace/Halls/All Kingdoms Garden/Offices

Fear swept through Veroneane like a forest fire.

She couldn’t quite accept that Lady Savaleaar was someone other than a ruler, it scared her to the bone to think that she could be ordering the destruction of Lothlorien.

I must tell someone she thought, quickly gathering her senses and stepping up, pulling her dress off the ground as she did.

The two elves were in mid apprehension. They knew something was happening, something other than what they were doing, but thanks to the ‘un-noticeable’ charm, Veroneane’s presence was not perceived.

But still the elves were persistent, unable to take their eyes away from the seemingly empty air, one of them reached out, coming about an inch from Veroneane’s arm.

Deciding that this situation could turn irrevocably bad, and it did not pay well to have enemies in an ever-growing evil world, she choose to make her leave, angling herself round the curious elf who seemed determined to uncover what was irritating him.

Once at the door of the storage shed, she picked up a watering can and threw it towards the back wall, and, with it making an almighty bang , distracted the elves and a look of terror painted itself across their faces.
She opened the wooden door, and stepped out into the cold.
Within the thirty minutes she had been in there, it had turned cold, bringing with it a chilly breeze. Pulling up her thin dress, she muttered the words which cancelled out her gift, deciding that there was hardly any point now….

‘eavela emin pecialsa iftgi
eavela emin pecialsa iftgi
eavela emin pecialsa iftgi
hannon le’

Suddenly, it hit her that this information should not remain a secret, after all, the security of the realm was at stake here.
Horror twisted itself upon her face as she willed her legs to take her faster, adopting a run.
Faster and faster she paced, caring not for the fragile weed plants shooting up from the ground.
‘I hope its not too late,’ she thought.

The trees seemed to wave in the wind as her dress blew about beautifully, whipping up the already-fallen leaves from the trees. An element of urgency set in, annoying her greatly because she knew she could not run any faster in these shoes.
A spell struck her, she had not used it in a while, but she knew she was going to have to use it to get to the main gardens again.

‘Em heten ige foen Shaddowax, Nero me mascalot, Pleion heten indwa utulien mae clesath daen vemi amen asterfo…
Em heten ige foen Shaddowax, Nero me mascalot, Pleion heten indwa utulien mae clesath daen vemi amen asterfo!’

Suddenly the air changed. It was seemingly pushing against her, even though she knew it was just her running faster into the wind. A new energy enveloped her legs, something that she had only felt once before when she used this magic in an equally desperate situation.

Her legs were moving impossibly fast, allowing her to travel much further distances, however, she knew this spell did not last long. She finally made it to the All Kingdoms Garden.
It was getting late, so the garden was hardly occupied.
She continued through the garden though, not stopping to admire the fine work volunteers had completed. She could feel the effects of the spell starting to waver…
Within moments she had exited the gardens, and she continued through to the ebony-made offices of the second in command.
Almost there, the spell now almost gone….so close.

Suddenly, Lady Savaleaar stepped out from behind a glass pillar, stopping Veroneane in her tracks…

Veroneane’s blood boiled, having quite blatantly discovered that the Leader, the person in absolute authority, had been a plant after all. But something told Veroneane that this went much deeper than was previously thought.

‘Greetings, Veroneane, and where might you be in a chaotic rush to?’ Lady Savaleaar smiled sweetly, inclining her head every so slightly, boring into her eyes.

A sudden look of panic flooded across Veroneane’s face just as Lady Savaleaar’s turned purple with obvious menace, Lady Savaleaar had discovered the lie.

‘Veroneane, ‘spat Lady Savaleaar her voice poisoned with an almighty-fury, ‘I think it may be time that we had a……..chat, one to one, what do you think?’ She didn’t even wait for a reply off Veroneane, she just strode heatedly through the Halls, some of which date back to the very beginning of the Woodland Realm.

Reluctantly, she followed, leaving an displacement of bad-aura in her wake.

Lady Savaleaar’s rage compared to almost no-one. That young, stupid elf was devastating months of work, dashed aside in an instant, much to the same effect that her family was.
She flew around the room, sliding powerfully into her priceless oak chair, belonging to every Elf ruler.

Veroneane followed her in, deciding on something a little less sterotypicalised for her nature, a small wooden chair laden with beautiful, but every so deadly, greenage. 

‘If you think for one moment Veroneane that you have the right end of the stick here, you are so very much mistaken!.’ started Lady Savaleaar, her eyes twisted into deathly rage, but something else was lingering in there, something that surprised Veroneane almost as much when the couple first met. She sensed a prevailing sadness.

Veroneane forgot to near-forgot to breath.

Lady Savaleaar stared knowingly through her frosted eyes, flickering around the room.

‘It all started years ago,’ sighed Lady Savaleaar, ‘….back when the war was in full rage. The entire forest was in danger, the ruler at the time was working flat out, hardly sleeping at all.’

Veroneane suddenly sensed the scattered puzzle pieces coming together, a kind of fellowship of sorts, finally re-united as one.

‘…My entire family, a work force, volunteered themselves for the Elven Army, thinking they could help protect the final defense of this lone city, little did they know that they would be placed on the front line, nearest barbarian Orcs much much stronger than them. They were massacred. Torn limb by limb, my father was forced to watched in horror as his father was brutally tortured by the evil Orcs as they slowly pained him to death.’ A single tear ran down the face of Lady Savaleaar.

Veroneane could only listen on in horror at what she knew must be coming next…

‘I was un-believably distraught at the Elvish leader, I appealed directly to her, and I got no-where, all I managed to get at the time was that war cost everyone a dear price,’ more and more tears rolled sadly down the cheek of Lady Savaleaar, leaving her eyes a rosy red.

‘So I vowed revenge upon the entire Elven race, I couldn’t believe it, the entirety of my family, dashed in a moment. So I schemed, I planned, I fought off people who tried to tell me what to do, there bodies now lying ever-so peacefully at the bottom of The Great Lake.’

She sighed, bringing this sensitive subject up was taking its toll.

‘So finally, I decided on one course of immediate action, one that would probably cost me dearly, along with everyone else who decided that I was wrong; you must have noticed the missing people Veroneane, all of them, dead.’ She spoke the last word with such intensity, even Veroneane shivered.

‘So, what may you ask was my choice of action? War. A much more intense than the last one, and it owed its new found hierarchy promotion for one vital reason. It was me.’

Suddenly everything fitted into place, what was happening, the lulling sense which had gripped the forest, the sense of being-one-your-toes but relaxed at the same time. It was her, she had……oh no.

Veroneane gasped and near-fell off her chair.

A single, dead smile flickered across Lady Savaleaar’s eyes.

‘Yes, I cast an ‘un-noticeable’ charm, and over what may you ask, over a army of Orcs, specially modified to be able to fight Elves much more effectively than normal.’

Veroneane gasped.

‘The army, which I’m sure you’ve figured out by now is hidden in wait, over the next hill, which I’m sure you’ve noticed as well, that you can’t seem to focus on properly. One of the after-effects of the ‘Un-noticeable’. Also the mood which has gripped the forest, that’s another after-effect. One, that I regrettablely didn’t foresee.’ Lady Savaleaar sighed, much like her conversation which seemed to lull after that.

‘So, what are you planning to do now?’ Veroneane asked, trying unsuccessfully to regain some pride, all of which had evaporated along with Lady Savaleaar’s family members.

Lady Savaleaar smiled, a smile which chilled Veroneane’s blood to absolute zero.

‘The army will attack. Very shortly. They will slaughter everyone in Lothlorien. Much like what’s going to happen to you happen to you!’

Lady Savaleaar drew magic, and a lot of it, and cast a blazing fire which tore the very fragments of the air to ribbons.

….and Veroneane was ready for it.

Being a partial Aquakenetic herself, something which she inherited from her father, him being a powerful wizard.

She send a blistering wall of water,  magnitude of infinite size, towards Lady Savaleaar who’s fire was quickly extinguished as fast as it was brought into creation.

The room exploded. The very air erupted as the two powerful elves engaged in a legendary war of magic. But even though ruler, Lady Savaleaar was no match for an Aquakenetic who had mastered the art of creating shields out of water, very effective.

Lady Savaleaar fell, out of magic and strength, near-drowned and unconscious.

Breathing a tornado of  sigh, Veroneane collapsed as well, tired to oblivion. But just as she was about to slam into the hard wooden floor, once laden with majestic carpets but now all that remained were damp ashes, she was caught, caught into strong arms.

Sebastian brought Veroneane back up to the sunlight, staring emotionally into the eyes of the elf. And smiled….




But then….just when the smile was about to fade, it twisted horrifically into an evil glare, which then moved its lips forming twisted words, which slammed into Veroneane like a mountain.

‘The Orcs are waiting….’

Veroneane screamed.