Disclaimer: I own none of the LotR characters, just my own. I try to stay as loyal as possible to Tolkien's work, but if I don't, it's just because I think it's beneficial to the story. Thanks! --- opaque
Chapter One
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Nothing compares to the beauty of the Rivendell forests; everlasting green and the warm autumnal colors of sunlight blend together in a quilt of dappled leaves spread before me, interrupted only by a slender thread of gleaming sapphire river weaving its way through the earthy banks, the solid ground I played warriors on when I was small, to now, when childhood dreams become reality…
Fiothiel entertained these thoughts of her homeland as she stood ramrod straight on the gate entering the city, guarding her beloved palace and scanning the land for danger. Seeing only the quiet forest brought a soothing peace to her, smoothing out the tense knots in her spinal cord, though she still stood tall and proud with all the elven strength and grace she could summon. As a Royal Guard, her constant dignity was required.
"Time to step down and give up your vigil for the moment, as much as I know you'll hate it," a voice interrupted her musings, and she turned and grinned at Isorfir.
"It's all yours, even though I know you don't appreciate the landscape as I do," Fiothiel responded to her longtime friend and fellow Guard. "Where am I on watch now?"
"It's your turn to go and wander the woods and pick up any odd looking characters for us to mock, and if you find any beautiful lost elf maidens, just send for me and I shall relieve you of your duties," a mock salute followed this comment, and she felt the twitches of a smile catch the corners of her lips.
"Iso, you're far too kind," she muttered to herself as she turned and skipped down the steps to the stables to find her loyal horse, an inheritance passed from her father to her. T¢on, as she fondly called her horse, stamped merrily at the prospect of a jaunt through the woods. In less time than it took for a hawk to swoop down on its prey, they were off.
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Fiothiel crept through the speckled golden light that played upon the spongy cushion of green moss. T¢on stayed quietly behind, aware that some danger was present. With the stealth of a snake, she crept up behind the unsuspecting intruder, who was standing with his hands behind his back watching the icy river. Fiothiel noted that he was armed, a quiver full of arrows strapped to his back. A dagger rested in a leather sheath strapped to a belt slung low around his waist. Fiothel planned her attack, took a deep breath, and stepped forwards.
The stranger was clueless as to her approach, but was quick enough to catch her out of the corner of his eye and turn to hide, causing precious seconds to tick frantically in her head. She stood in a crouched position, dagger drawn, turning this way and that to try and find the trespasser.
"Come out, wethrinaer, it is no use to hide from an ohtar of Rivendell, I can call whomever I wish to assist me. State your business, and no harm will come unto you!"
A melodical deep-voiced male laugh echoed from somewhere to her left. She whirled around, and the intruder spoke:
"I believe I have more of a right to wander these forests than you do, milady. You do not realize whom you are challenging with your brave words."
Fiothiel responded quickly. "Then show your face, for if you were indeed someone worth recognizing, you would not have come alone, and that I notice you are. Reveal yourself!"
No answer came from the woods. Fiothiel slipped towards the direction of the voice, and heard a twig crack to her right. Her breath snapped in her throat, and she turned and immediately had her arm around the trespasser's neck, her dagger a mere hairsbreadth away from his throat. Her lips were just inches away from the curved shell of an ear, and she noticed that the tips were pointed. Careful, she thought, this is no clumsy human.
"Speak your name, wethrin, or I shall do what is necessary"
Fiothiel was suddenly caught off guard as the stranger wrenched himself deftly out of her grip, and his foot caught the back of her knees and made her stumble. She fell, and the elf pinned her neatly to the ground, one knee on her chest, breathing heavily. Her eyes widened with shock, and her mouth fell open with not often expressed horror. She threw her dagger to the ground, swallowed her pride, and said in a trembling voice, "Speak your name, though I believe I may know your face"
The golden-haired elf above her smiled wryly, stood, and bowed;
"Prince of the realm of Mirkwood, Legolas Greenleaf is my name."
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wethrinaer: deceitful one
ohtar: warrior
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