Behind the Light of the Evenstar
Disclaimer: Arwen and the merry band of Elves and co. I use in this are 100% Tolkien. Analyn is mine but that's it.
"Analyn" The voice is soft, but carries the authority and dignity I have become used to hearing in it, and in it's brother. I turn in my saddle to face Elladan
"My lord?"
Both of the sons of Elrond look at me, four gray eyes meeting my blue ones with intensity I am almost used to "We will stop here, we cannot hope to reach Rivendell before nightfall." Almost as if listening to these words, our mounts halt.
Elrohir and Elladan begin preparations for the night. The two are so attuned to each other that I hesitate to help lest I interrupt the practiced dance they make around the clearing they have chosen for the night.
We are a small party, only the three of us. In part, they are my escorts, guarding Lady Arwens maid of honor as she bears a message to the Lady Galadrial. Of far more importance, they are couriers from Elrond to his kinsmen, bearing tidings they do not confide in me, but share with each other in the worried expressions they pass over my head.
Not that I have made them privy to my mistresses message. Though her love for her brothers is as strong as the love that binds her in troth to the Dunadan, I can only imagine her anger were I to take them into my confidence about the message I bear.
They will not ask me to betray their sisters confidence, I will not press them to divulge the secrets Galadrial and Elrond have entrusted in them
Wordlessly Elladan hands me a wafer of lembas, and Elrohir a small silver cup of miruvor. We all chew the food of the Golden Wood thoughtfully, and I feel a moment of guilty pleasure at eating the food I miss while I am in Imladris with my lady. While Lady Undomiel dwelled in Lorien, I grew used to the food of the place, though I missed the miruvor. I am often like that, unsatisfied with what I have until I lose it, always restless and searching for something new to capture my attention.
One reason I have become Lady Arwen courier of late. Raised together in Imladris and Lothlorien, we remain as close as sisters, and now I serve her as a maid of honor. A prestigious position in Elronds household, tribute to the close friendship my parents shared with Elrond Halfelven until they sought the havens. I am unabashedly more spirited then elven maids tend to be, and have been the stem of affectionate and spiteful teasing about this. The more affectionate tormentors find this an endearing qualities, the spiteful ones cite it as a reason I am yet unwed.
Truth be told they are probably correct, for I am loath to trade the relative freedom I enjoy now for the honorable chains of domestic life. Not that I have entirely eschewed proper Elven refinements. I hunger and thirst for knowledge with the same insatiable hunger of all of Elronds folk, my memory stretches back to the birth of the third age, I fear the dark lord of Mordor with the glacial dread of all my people. By elven standards, any standards, I am fair to look upon I suppose. Nothing like my mistress, and that is unfortunate as she is fairest of any, but not ugly. I am smaller than most, light and quick on my feet. Elladan and Elrohir have teased me that my wit is as fast as my footsteps, and equally likely to get me into trouble. I have golden hair that falls to the backs of my knees on the rare event I allow it out of its plaits.
Elrohir wrenches me from my musings with a stern look, and I smooth by thin white robes and come to sit between him and his brother in front of the fire. Elladan nods to me and I begin to sing,
A Elbereth Gilthoniel
silivren penna miriel
o menal aglar elenath!
Na-chaered palan-diriel
o galadhremmin ennorath
Fanuilos, le linnathon
nef aear, si nef aearon!
Elladan is more stringent about the singing of this song then is his brother, but both join me by the second line. I am possessed of a clear, strong alto. Elladan powerful bass and Elrohirs majestic tenor compliment my voice beautifully and in the dark of the woods at night, no evil can pierce my heart when the songs of the blessed realm still sing in my heart.
Tomorrow I know we will set off for the final leg of our journey to Imladris where I will deliver Galadrials message to my lady. Something has changed in this last trip to the Golden Wood, and I fear that a storm is brewing, as it so recently has in the far land of Mirkwood. As much as a fear the shadow, my heart welcomes the challenge as my mind protests the change.
*If I get good reviews for this, chapter two will be up within 48 hours*
Disclaimer: Arwen and the merry band of Elves and co. I use in this are 100% Tolkien. Analyn is mine but that's it.
"Analyn" The voice is soft, but carries the authority and dignity I have become used to hearing in it, and in it's brother. I turn in my saddle to face Elladan
"My lord?"
Both of the sons of Elrond look at me, four gray eyes meeting my blue ones with intensity I am almost used to "We will stop here, we cannot hope to reach Rivendell before nightfall." Almost as if listening to these words, our mounts halt.
Elrohir and Elladan begin preparations for the night. The two are so attuned to each other that I hesitate to help lest I interrupt the practiced dance they make around the clearing they have chosen for the night.
We are a small party, only the three of us. In part, they are my escorts, guarding Lady Arwens maid of honor as she bears a message to the Lady Galadrial. Of far more importance, they are couriers from Elrond to his kinsmen, bearing tidings they do not confide in me, but share with each other in the worried expressions they pass over my head.
Not that I have made them privy to my mistresses message. Though her love for her brothers is as strong as the love that binds her in troth to the Dunadan, I can only imagine her anger were I to take them into my confidence about the message I bear.
They will not ask me to betray their sisters confidence, I will not press them to divulge the secrets Galadrial and Elrond have entrusted in them
Wordlessly Elladan hands me a wafer of lembas, and Elrohir a small silver cup of miruvor. We all chew the food of the Golden Wood thoughtfully, and I feel a moment of guilty pleasure at eating the food I miss while I am in Imladris with my lady. While Lady Undomiel dwelled in Lorien, I grew used to the food of the place, though I missed the miruvor. I am often like that, unsatisfied with what I have until I lose it, always restless and searching for something new to capture my attention.
One reason I have become Lady Arwen courier of late. Raised together in Imladris and Lothlorien, we remain as close as sisters, and now I serve her as a maid of honor. A prestigious position in Elronds household, tribute to the close friendship my parents shared with Elrond Halfelven until they sought the havens. I am unabashedly more spirited then elven maids tend to be, and have been the stem of affectionate and spiteful teasing about this. The more affectionate tormentors find this an endearing qualities, the spiteful ones cite it as a reason I am yet unwed.
Truth be told they are probably correct, for I am loath to trade the relative freedom I enjoy now for the honorable chains of domestic life. Not that I have entirely eschewed proper Elven refinements. I hunger and thirst for knowledge with the same insatiable hunger of all of Elronds folk, my memory stretches back to the birth of the third age, I fear the dark lord of Mordor with the glacial dread of all my people. By elven standards, any standards, I am fair to look upon I suppose. Nothing like my mistress, and that is unfortunate as she is fairest of any, but not ugly. I am smaller than most, light and quick on my feet. Elladan and Elrohir have teased me that my wit is as fast as my footsteps, and equally likely to get me into trouble. I have golden hair that falls to the backs of my knees on the rare event I allow it out of its plaits.
Elrohir wrenches me from my musings with a stern look, and I smooth by thin white robes and come to sit between him and his brother in front of the fire. Elladan nods to me and I begin to sing,
A Elbereth Gilthoniel
silivren penna miriel
o menal aglar elenath!
Na-chaered palan-diriel
o galadhremmin ennorath
Fanuilos, le linnathon
nef aear, si nef aearon!
Elladan is more stringent about the singing of this song then is his brother, but both join me by the second line. I am possessed of a clear, strong alto. Elladan powerful bass and Elrohirs majestic tenor compliment my voice beautifully and in the dark of the woods at night, no evil can pierce my heart when the songs of the blessed realm still sing in my heart.
Tomorrow I know we will set off for the final leg of our journey to Imladris where I will deliver Galadrials message to my lady. Something has changed in this last trip to the Golden Wood, and I fear that a storm is brewing, as it so recently has in the far land of Mirkwood. As much as a fear the shadow, my heart welcomes the challenge as my mind protests the change.
*If I get good reviews for this, chapter two will be up within 48 hours*
