It had been early morning when the boy had left his home. He'd been given instruction to return to his Naneth by midday. However, it was long past then. He kicked the leaves littering the forest floor, the small grey pony following him mimicked his frustration by throwing it's head into the air and snorting.
"It's no use, Bor." The boy sighed, throwing himself onto the ground. "We're lost." The pony shuffled a few steps closer before nuzzling against the boys arm. He patted the pony's cheek. "I guess you're right, a break would do some good." He stood, brushing some dried leaves from his earthy toned breeches. Inside the pony's pack, his Naneth had packed apples, some bread and a leather bladder filled with fresh water. He fished out a couple of apples, holding one out flat on his palm the way Rhawon had taught him back at the stables. The pony carefully taught the offered fruit, before dropping it on the floor to give himself more leverage to greedily chomp and slurp on the apple. The boy sat himself back on the floor against the tree before taking a large bite of his own.
"It is rather peaceful here, isn't it?"
"It was." came a small voice from high above. The boy shot up, the pony's head following suit. He quickly scrambled to his feet, his apple remaining forgotten on the ground for the once again distracted pony to enjoy, and grabbed his bow and arrow tied to his saddle. He nocked the arrow and spun himself around, trying to locate the source of the voice.
"Over here." the voice sounded from behind him. He turned quickly and pointed the arrow up into the cover of the trees. "No, here." this time the voice giggled from the other side of the clearing.
"Just show yourself!" The boy shouted finally out of frustration. Bor snorted at the sudden loud noise, but resumed his foraging of the forest floor quickly. He heard a short sigh and a small rustle from behind him. He turned quickly holding the bow and arrow high.
What emerged from the tree line was not the goblin or poltergeist he expected. It was a child, like him. She was shorter than he was, with hair the colour of gold to his pale white strands. He slowly lower his arrow as he watched her walk closer. She was not from his kingdom. Her clothes were grey and dark not light and natural the way his Father's people preferred. She was bare foot too. Around her ankles and wrists she wore thick golden bands.
"I am Legolas, Son of Thranduil. Prince of Mirkwood." The boy, Legolas, bowed deeply to the girl. She shuffled almost awkwardly for a moment.
"Rivernil." She offered with a small curtsy.
"Rivernil of the mountains?" Legolas had heard the girl's name when eaves dropping on his Father's business. "Child of Girithon?" She nodded weakly, her shoulders tight and her eyes to the ground. He held his hand out for hers, for she was a princess in her own right too and deserved to be greeted as such.
"You did not run," she was looking at him now. Her eyes, as blue as a cold winters morning, searching him. "Why?"
"Should I have?" He was confused. She did not appear to be a threat to him.
"My father," She stopped herself for a moment. "He is not well thought of."
"But you are his daughter," Legolas reasoned with the logic only a young mind could possess. "Not him." Rivernil smiled and shook off the darkness that had clouded her face and reached out taking the offered hand. Both children ignored the spark that ran between their joined flesh. Legolas practised the courtly manners he'd been taught and brought the small hand in his to his lips and bowed once more. The longer he held onto her hand, the harder he was finding it to let go.
"You are a long way from home, Legolas, Sindarin Prince of Mirkwood." Rivernil said, matter of factly, her hand still in the prince's. He looked around, squinting slightly between the trees.
"I'm not that far." She laughed. It was beautiful. His Naneth had told him stories of love. How she felt when she met, and saw, his father. Was this what she was talking about?
"I could show you the way," She offered. He met her eye again. Blue sparkling with hope. He nodded and grabbed Bor's reins.
She lead them through a tight gap in the tree's and deep into the forest again. Bor nudged Legolas's arm every so often, questioning where they were going.
"Forgive me, Rivernil," Legolas's hand was still firmly in the girl's as she walked slightly ahead of him and his grey steed. "But how is life in the mountains?"
"Dark," she nodded to herself. "Cold. However it makes me appreciate these moments in the sun so much more." Legolas nodded, but he knew she couldn't see him.
"How many summers have you seen?" She was far smaller than he was, though spoke like a much older elf.
"Seventeen." She said simply. "You are entering your twenty-first."
"H-How do you know that?" He was astounded. Knowing the ages of neighbouring houses wasn't something everyone bothered to learn.
"You are the same age as my sister." Legolas didn't know that Girithon had two daughters. He was still pondering that information when Rivernil stopped. She patted the pony's muzzle briefly before walking back the way they had come.
"Where are you going?"
"Home." she said simply. "You will find your's is that way." She stopped to point him back to the path she had set them on.
"Will I see you again?"
"Perhaps."
It took 32 years of 'accidentally' passing through the same clearing he'd first met her in, hoping for a glimpse of her sunlit hair or her eyes the colour of a fresh stream. Unfortunately for Legolas, that day came on the same day that his new, and rather green, mare had thrown him at the sight of a rather intimidating looking leaf. He felt her presence before he saw her this time. The same prickle along his skin he remembered feeling when he grabbed her hand that first day in the forest.
"You look a little lost, Sindarin Prince of Mirkwood." came a calm voice dancing through the spring air. Legolas spun on his heel quickly, to catch her before she vanished.
"Rivernil," he breathed. He noticed a small wince flit across her beautiful features. But it only lasted a moment. "You look well." He meant it. The years had let her mature particularly favourably. Her hair had darkened, it was more the colour of autumn leaves and less the colour of a summer's day.
"As do you," She stood stiffly in front of him. Her body had stiffened with new muscles she had gained in preparation for the rest of her life. Her clothes told tale of life in the guard. The dark fabric hardly shielding much flesh from attack, but that was the way those in the Mountains preferred to fight. They believed that skill alone should be what wins you a war, not the ability to hide behind body armour and shields. Avari elves were somewhat of a conundrum to many outside of their inner walls. Thick bands of protective gold wound around her lower legs and wrists, etched with intricate swirls of decorative smoke and letters that Legolas didn't understand. He noted how her small frame didn't move at all, barely even breathing, as he took in her appearance. Were all Avari shorter than their kin?
"I have been searching for you, friend," Legolas offered his hand out to her. He saw her hesitation. Her ocean blue eyes flitted briefly to the either side, surveying their surroundings. Then she let her guard drop, her shoulders released and a smile broke across her youthful face causing Legolas's poor heart to miss a beat. Her delicate hand reached out to take his.
"I know you have," she answered softly. The current running through their joined hands was far stronger now. It wasn't painful. It was quite the opposite. Legolas did not know how long they stood there, their eyes and hands joined, but eventually Rivernil dropped his hand, but she didn't retreat from him. "You should probably find your mount."
"Would you accompany me?" Rivernil's eyes dropped to the ground, a small smile played on her lips. She shook her head slightly before sighing and lifting her head.
"If you need me to,"
"Would you like to?" Her eyes darted around again. She nodded once. Slowly and carefully. "May I take your hand as we walk?"
"I do not think that wise, Sindarin Prince of Mirkwood." He nodded, his pride slightly wounded at his misreading of her intentions.
They walked for a short while together. It gave Legolas time to observe a guard at such a fledgling stage. She was, currently, far more highly trained than he was. That was evident in the way she paid attention to the world around her, with seemingly little effort, and how her body moved and reacted to the most minor of changes.
"Of course you're encouraging insubordination," Rivernil chuckled under her breath as the pair of elves broke through the tree line into a large open space. Legolas's eyes quickly adjusted to the change in light and spotted his bay mare, still fully saddled, grazing peacefully like she hadn't charged through the forest not too long ago. Next to the lithe mare stood an impressive beast. As they got closer, Legolas eyed it, suspiciously. Its rump was a clear foot or two higher that his head, it's chest broad and deep. Cannon bones as thick as one of the palace columns and hooves as wide as dinner plates. It's mane and tail ran freely with full and well maintained feathers enhancing every slight movement of the stallion's legs. He was as dark as night and Legolas couldn't help but hesitating as it raised it's large head and turned it towards him, snorting and flaring his nostrils. Rivernil didn't pay the horse's actions any attention.
"He is..."
"Overweight." Rivernil's voice was joyful and free, far different from the stern, emotionless tone she'd held before. The large equine snorted and shoved her with his barrel like head. She just laughed and let him rest his forehead against her chest, her lithe fingers on his cheeks. Legolas shot his feisty mare a look. He doubted they would ever have a bond like Rivernil and this horse.
"I was going to say 'impressive',"
"Doesn't make him not overweight," She turned her head towards Legolas, and in that moment, he could see the child she still was. "What are you doing here, Fuiron?" Fuiron made a small grunt before dropping his grand muzzle back to the grass and continued to graze greedily. "Yes, I can see that." Legolas made move towards his spirited mare. However, she quickly raised her head and bolted in the opposite direction, stopping with her head high.
"She's taunting me, isn't she?" Rivernil laughed at the Prince's failure.
"She is," The laugh still lingered on her fair features as she turned to Legolas. "What is her name?"
"Naneth named her Lhinnil," He held his voice steady. Or he thought he had. Talking of his mother was still raw and painful. Rivernil's eyes softened and he felt her hand wrap itself in his again, the blistering current bringing him back into the here and now.
"And she is a fine one," She nodded. "Perhaps she would suit Lagoreth a little more?" The bay mare stuck her head up at the sound of the name.
"Lagoreth it is then," Legolas chuckled as the mare trotted over to him, chewing on her bit at she did.
"Goodbye, Legolas, Sindarin Prince of Mirkwood," Rivernil whispered softely next to him before springing herself up onto the large horses back, with one hand wrapped into it's dark mane.
"You are leaving?" He span quickly as the horse started to move away from him and his mare.
"I have been away far too long." She dug her heels quickly into the stallions flanks.
"Goodbye, Rivernil, Avarian Princess of the Mountains," Legolas whispered. Lagoreth nudged his thigh, reminding him it was time to leave.