Ok, so, humour me. This is a story that follows the life of Mellyrn of Lorien, an OC from my other story Of Edain Pride and Elven Prejudice. The main character in that was called Auriel and Mellyrn was her attractive friend with no family background. At the end of the story, Mellyrn learns that she is to be sent to Rivendell to become Lord Elrond's apprentice. You don't need to read the other story to read this one.
This is going to be shortish as well, and romantic as. It will feature Mellyrn as the love interest of...somebody. ;)
I own nothing and make no profit. I hope someone reads this, and hope you enjoy it :)
The maiden of gold arrived one warm evening of Spring. Her hair was a river of gold and there was molten gold in her pretty eyes, too.
Lindir huffed and shook his head, frustrated. He could not possibly use the word gold that many times, it was simply ridiculous.
He looked away from his parchment, let his dark gaze wander over the blossoming trees. A few petals here and there took advantage of the soft breeze, delicately floating down to the lush, green grass below.
Mallorn leaves adorn her hair, he wrote, matched only by the liquid gold in her eyes. My heart melts there, too. I fear one look of love from her would burn my soul into a thousand grey ashes, and still, I would beg for more.
Lindir blushed and very nearly tore the parchment in half, before changing his mind. He folded the paper in half and tucked it into his outer coat. Enough lyrics for the day, now for the easy part, the melody. The melody of Mellyrn had been his constant companion since he'd first set eyes upon Lord Elrond's apprentice, Mellyrn of Lorien. It wrote itself, a bittersweet tune of the gentleness of her character and the painful desire she awoke in him. Painful, for it would never be reciprocated. There was not a chance for his love to be returned, not when there were far more dashing young ellin around, such as Elladan and Elrohir, or Glorfindel, of course.
As if on cue, Lord Glorfindel's charming laughter rang from below, in the gardens, by the fountains. Lindir first chosep to ignore it, but said laughter was soon followed by the loveliest sound of all: lady Mellyrn's modulated speech, with its appeasing and attractive quality. The golden lady was soft spoken and kind, her voice a hint deeper than one would expect from such a slender throat. Lindir could not quite make out the words, but they must have been most pleasant, for Lord Glorfindel immediately started laughing again. Lindir scowled, for he knew lady Mellyrn was not one to tell jokes, and therefore Glorfindel's laughter must have been most unnecessary and calculated.
Walking to the edge of the balcony from where he liked to compose, Lindir looked down to the fountains, where he saw lady Mellyrn standing by the water and Lord Glorfindel sitting on the edge of the fountain, his attention wholly turned to her.
And truly, what a sight she was.
She wore light colours and fabrics in the way of Lorien, her hair a river of gold down her back. Some of it was gathered at the back of her head to free her face, and it only accentuated her uncharacteristic eyes. Blue as sapphires they were, but the pupil was circled with bright gold. Lindir had never seen such a combination, and upon first seeing her he'd wondered if there was a bit of fairy blood in her ancestors. Even her skin appeared charged with sunlight. Dimples kissed the centre of her cheeks when she smiled, another rare feature amongst elves, and the lady was kind, gentle, intelligent, reserved yet open minded and curious of the world. Lindir knew Lord Elrond to be very impressed with her. She had been recommended to him by the lady Galadriel herself, but he had not expected much from her, a young elleth with no family to back her name. He'd expected an innocent and romantic girl with no real intention to study, yet Mellyrn had revealed herself to be an outstanding apprentice. Lord Elrond and the lady Mellyrn often lost themselves in deep conversations on a variety of topics, and Lindir, listening in, found her quiet strenght and her discreetly passionate spirit utterly irresistible.
When she walked in the gardens side by side with the lady Arwen, it was hard to determine which elleth complimented the other's beauty the most. But it was Mellyrn's mind, truly, that was to be most admired. The lady read many languages and threw herself into the study of the healing arts, seriously, perhaps slitghly too much so. How a soul so wonderful had found its way to an elleth this beautiful was beyond him. And to be blessed by the sight of her each day!
Lindir was shaken out of this most pleasant contemplation by the sound of Lord Elladan's voice.
"Lady Mellyrn," said he merrily, "what a pleasure to see you about this morning."
"Indeed," agreed his brother Elrohir, appearing by his side. "The lady usually prefers books to us poor ellin!"
"Do not tease the lady so," chastised Glorfindel in good humour. "Her tenacity is a testimony of her honour."
"Personally, I am most impressed with her ability to remain awake when she speaks to our father," joked Elrohir, ever the charmer.
"Elrohir," scolded Elladan, the most serious of the two.
"But truly, brother. Not only does she stay awake, but she answers appropriately, too!"
Elladan shook his head but failed to conceal his smile, choosing instead to turn to Glorfindel.
"How fare you, Lord Glorfindel?"
"I am well milord, thank you. Lady Mellyrn and I were just observing the quietness of the gardens in the early morning. Of course, now it appears we were quite mistaken in our assessment. Four elves indeed!"
"Five, in fact!" Cried Elrohir, and before Lindir had time to react, the elf Lord was calling out to him, and everyone turned and looked up. "Lindir, is that you, gazing down upon us from your hide? Will you join us, my friend, or are you quite contempt to remain an unseen spy?"
Lindir very nearly dared saying that he was indeed quite contempt to remain an unseen spy, thank you very much, but wisely restrained himself. He would perhaps have argued that he was not spying, merely watching the petals fall in search of inspiration, but years of experience had taught him best than to throw himself in an argument with Elrohir of Imladris. So instead, Lindir nodded and smiled graciously before making his way downstairs.
He paused by a mirror in the hall and straightened his tunic and coat, smoothed out his hair. He always looked so severe! He could not master the tranquil joviality of Glorfindel, nor the dashing carelessness of the twins.
Lindir walked through the gardens, forcing his hands not to go for each other, trying to calm the beating of his heart. In a few moments, he would be near her. Did she think him a spy?
"Ah!" Exclaimed Elrohir, extending his arms. "Lindir! See? 'Tis much better down here with us."
"Milord Elrohir," greeted Lindir stiffly. "Milord Elladan. Glorfindel." He forced his tone not to sound as harsh when he turned to the lady. "Milady Mellyrn."
"Good morning, Lindir."
What a lovely voice indeed!
"It is a fine morning," he said dully to no one in particular.
"A fine morning indeed," agreed Glorfindel, a teasing glint in his blue eyes. "Its peace broken only by the two lords of Imladris, who have come to pay secret insult to their father."
"You wound me, Glorfindel!" Declared Elrohir, setting a hand on his heart. "I was merely paying the lady a compliment!"
"The insult was not so secret," cut in Elladan more seriously, "for our father's eyes and ears have heard the whole lot of it." He nodded towards Lindir.
"Your secret is safe with me," replied Lindir, scowling. Were they trying to make him look a fool in Mellyrn's eyes?
"Lady Mellyrn was also telling me about this fascinating stone she has been studying," said Glorfindel in his gentle voice.
Lindir resisted the urge to roll his eyes in jealousy. Oh, so the lady was telling him all sorts of things, was she?
"It is merely an emerald," whispered the lady, a faint blush to her lovely cheeks. "But it is said to have healing properties, should it be left under the moonlight for three full moons. The easterlings believe so. I was out this morning to retrieve it, it has been three full moons now."
"Elladan, you may want to see it? Elladan has travelled east." Said Elrohir to the group.
"So have you, brother. We travelled there together." Nevertheless, Elladan opened his hand and Mellyrn placed the precious stone there.
The Lord inspected it carefully, very carefully, only to have it jump out of his hands when Elrohir, who had come closer, tripped against a root and ran into his brother's back.
"Elrohir!" Shouted Elladan, as all watched the stone fly up in the air, before landing into the fountain, some of the water splashing onto Lindir's coat.
To his credit, Elrohir did look positively mortified.
"Oh no, lady Mellyrn I do apologise!"
"I shall retrieve it," offered Glorfindel, already standing.
"Let Lindir," cut in Elrohir rather forcefully. "He's nearest, after all."
All eyes turned to Lindir, who had yet to fully comprehend what had happened. Elrohir? A master marksman, and sword wielder? Trip and fall?
"I'll retrieve it, milords, it is no trouble."
Mellyrn's suggestion was of course followed by a series of outraged cries and pleas of calm from the ellin, concluded by Elrohir commanding loudly:
"Lindir, please, before the lady goes in herself!"
Still not entirely certain how this task had become his rather than Elrohir's, Lindir took off his coat, his shoes, and stepped into the shallow fountain. Two steps, and he had retrieved the stone. He returned to shore and handed it to lady Mellyrn who graced him with a most charming smile. It was fortunate as well that the twins chose that exact moment to inquire about something or other with Lord Glorfindel, thus making it compulsory for Mellyrn and Lindir to have a conversation too.
"Thank you, milord Lindir."
"I am no Lord," said he, "and you are welcome, of course."
They just smiled awkwardly at each other, until Lindir could no longer take it and felt obligated to start a different conversation.
"So... What shall you test the stone on, Milady?"
"Mellyrn," she corrected, "and I know not. Perhaps I ought to cause a horrific accident of some sort..."
Lindir snorted ungracefully at her joke, before catching the mocking eye of Elrohir. His laughter died down immediately.
"Well," he started, before having had the time to really think this through, "I would not be too worried, as it appears Lord Elrohir is happy to provide us with accidents."
Fool. Fool, fool, fool! Jokes were not his strenght, still Mellyrn had the grace to laugh and cover her mouth.
Egged on by her reaction, Lindir continued: "Though, despite his best efforts and our most sincere wishes, unfortunately the incident does not quite qualify as horrific."
"Indeed not," laughed Mellyrn, and by Eru it was thrilling to have her whole attention turned to him and him only. She even leaned in to whisper: "perhaps next time I ought to bring a larger stone."
Lindir's laughter rang loud and clear, only to be put out once again by Lord Elrohir.
"My, my! Lindir! I do not believe I have ever heard you laughing so!" Teased the elf Lord.
"Lady Mellyrn is most entertaining company," flattered Glorfindel in his own, sincere way, beaming down at the lady, whose round cheeks took on a pink blush.
All urges to laugh quickly left Lindir, and he was thankful for Elladan's interruption.
"Perhaps we ought to all return to our duties," said Elladan, and Elrohir immediately jumped to his aid.
"Absolutely," cried he, clasping Lindir's arm and pushing him along. "Let us go, Lindir, before Father starts wondering where we are. Elladan, I believe the lady was headed to the library, take her there will you?"
"Of course," agreed Elladan, already offering Mellyrn his arm.
Before he had time to see what happened next, or even to properly take his leave, Lindir was pulled away, years and years of protocole so embedded in his mind that he never once quite found the courage to resist Lord Elrohir, not until the Ellon left him alone by the main gates under the excuse of needing to speak to his sister the lady Arwen.
That was when Lindir suddenly realised something was amiss.
His coat! His shoes!
The minstrel ran back to the fountain to find his possessions exactly where he had left them. However, upon picking his coat up, a horrible truth came upon him like a great cold wave: the parchment, the piece of paper on which Lindir had been writing the lyrics to the song he was secretly writing in Mellyrn's honour, was gone. Gone!
It was not in the fountain, not on the ground, it had not been carried to the grass by the soft morning breeze. This could only mean one thing: someone had picked it up. And whoever had picket it up, had most likely read it.
The sense of dread that took hold of his heart then could have rivalled the one he had felt upon performing in public for the first time, except there seemed to be much more at sake at present.
What if Mellyrn had read it?