So once again, I am beginning new stories before I have finished old ones. But I'm afraid that the release of 'The Hobbit', along with my brother gifting me with the extended 'Lord of the Rings' editions for Christmas, I am utterly submerged in an LotR mood, meaning not only am I absolved to finish 'Royalmaiden's War', but I have also begun a new tale.
This is a prequel to my initial Royalmaiden trilogy, to tell the tale of how Arnuríel met Legolas in the first place. And I could not resist uploading Chapter 1, the moment I completed it! So here we are, read, review, and enjoy!
A few notes though! Greenwood is Mirkwood, just by its original name. Also, if you have read my original Royalmaiden trilogy, you might notice the return of Arlohar; I can't find anything on elven horses particularly, so I decided for the benefit of the story that elven horses are uber special and live as long as their masters. Also I know there may be some date issues appearing. I have never found anything that exactly states Legolas' age, it is mostly common sense guesses (not saying I'm right by any means!) so for the purpose of my tales, Legolas and Arnuríel were both born midway through the Second Age. This is so as to coincide as closely as possible with Celebrían's birth near the beginning of the Second Age and Legolas' alleged birth at the beginning of the Third Age.
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Arnuríel gathered her reins a little tighter in her fingers, as she swallowed in nervous anticipation. The great elven city of Greenwood was looming ahead of their travelling party. She had never seen it before and she had heard so many tales.
Her stallion suddenly tossed his head indignantly at the sudden shortening of his reins with a light snort.
Arnuríel instantly loosened her fingers, and leant down to pat his neck reassuringly. "I'm sorry, Alrohar."
"Are you alright, Arnuríel?"
Arnuríel looked up at the great elven lord riding beside her. "Yes, ada."
Celeborn nodded approvingly, before he too looked up to Greenwood. "What do you think?"
"It reminds me of home," Arnuríel decided after some thought. "But darker."
"I'm not sure I like it," another young voice piped up.
Arnuríel looked down from her great mount to where her older sister rode beside and below her. Alrohar was far too big for her but, from the moment Arnuríel had laid her eyes upon a frisky young grey colt one day, she had begged her father to allow her to have him. She had spent long months befriending the stubborn animal, the pair of them training each other to ride, until they had created an unbreakable partnership. Celebrían, meanwhile, was riding a far more appropriate creature, a surefooted, elegant-stepping white grey pony.
"Why not, tinu," Celeborn asked.
"Doesn't it remind you of home?" Arnuríel frowned.
"No," Celebrían replied decidedly. "It's too dark and… ominous."
"Well we shall not be here long," Celeborn told her comfortingly.
"Why are we here, ada?" Arnuríel asked.
"I told you, tinu," Celeborn explained patiently. "We are here to discuss a treaty with the king Thranduil. Peace has often eluded our kingdoms, but we must try to make an effort. A great deal of good could come from a peace treaty with Greenwood."
"But why must we travel to Greenwood?" Celebrían demanded, her question a little more intelligent than Arnuríel's. "Why could the king not come to Lorien?"
"Because while the king and his son are open to the suggestion of a peace treaty," Celeborn replied, "they is not so open to propose it themselves. And so we must go to them."
"But you said that the king was not in Greenwood at this time?" Celebrían frowned.
Celeborn nodded. "Very good, tinu. The king Oropher is not at this time within Greenwood, and so we are to speak with his son, Thranduil, in his stead."
"Hm," Celebrían thought, disapproving and unconvinced.
Arnuríel smiled. "I think it looks interesting."
"Of course you do," Celebrían replied, poking Arnuríel's lower leg. "You think everything looks nice or interesting, because you cannot bear to hurt the feelings of anyone!"
"Celebrían," Celeborn warned quietly, as Arnuríel's poked her small tongue out in response.
They rode through the gates of the city and up through the town until they reached the intricate, yet strangely dark palace. In the entrance court, Arnuríel vaulted down from Alrohar's broad back and when he curled his great head around to nuzzle her, she snuck him a piece of apple from her saddle pack. "Good boy, Alro."
An elf suddenly appeared above her and bowed his head to the little elf maiden. "May I take your stallion, my lady?"
Arnuríel swallowed before glancing at her father. He nodded encouragingly as he handed his own reins over to an elf. She looked back up at the elf standing above her. "Thank you." She passed her reins to the elf's outstretched hand.
"What is his name, if I may ask?" the elf asked with a friendly smile.
"Alrohar," Arnuríel replied, giving a shy smile.
"A noble name, for a noble mount, my lady," the elf bowed, and Arnuríel watched fondly as Alrohar was led away.
"Ada!"
Arnuríel's head whipped about, her long ponytail flying as she heard Celebrían's wail. She was holding her pony Vanya's reins in one hand and wiping yellow gunk from the front of her travelling cloak with the other. "Ada, Vanya sneezed upon me!"
Arnuríel resisted the urge to snort with laughter and leapt across to take Vanya's reins from her sister. Celebrían's expression was not upset, she was too proud to cry; she was simply deeply disgruntled. Arnuríel stroked Vanya's muzzle softly as their father approached, the ghost of a smile playing upon his lips.
"Ada, it's not funny," Celebrían growled disapprovingly.
"I am sorry, Rían," Celeborn replied, with a low bow to his little daughter. "Come, we are to be taken to our chambers before we meet with the king regent. You may change there."
Celebrían seemed vaguely appeased and began to follow her father out of the entrance court. Arnuríel handed Vanya's reins to another welcoming elf and hurried after them. As they followed a serving elf through the palace, Arnuríel stared around in curious interest. The entire palace was created between trees, their trunks creating pillars within the palace, forming structures for the rooms. But while in Lothlorien everything was clean and white, here everything was dark and a little foreboding. There were weapons adorning the walls, and while Celebrían edged away from the adornments disdainfully, Arnuríel stepped forwards for a closer look at the intricate weaponry.
They were finally led into their chambers for their stay, and Arnuríel smiled as she looked about her room. The open doorway was a circular arch, just the right height for a little elfling lady, with a neat bed made up with deep green silken sheets, and a carved wardrobe and a large window with a little woven window seat.
Arnuríel suddenly felt a large hand on her shoulder and looked up into her father's strong face. "Do you still like it here?"
Arnuríel nodded enthusiastically. "It's different, and I don't know if I could live here for alwaysbut… I like it."
Celeborn nodded his approval, before he filled his daughter's arms with her saddlebags. "Can you change by yourself?"
"Yes, ada," Arnuríel nodded.
"Good girl, off you go," Celeborn encouraged, before turning back to Celebrían. Arnuríel watched her sister pull him into her own little room to help her, and smiled fondly before turning into her own room. Opening up her saddlebags she rifled through them, until she found a gown she hoped would be appropriate. Shrugging off her travelling cloak and riding dress, she pulled the smarter, blue and silver lace gown over her head, smoothing it down. She would have loved to remain in her long leather boots but she knew her father would prefer her to change out of them, and she knew the etiquette of it. So instead she unlaced them with quick fingers and pulled on matching slippers before pulling her long blonde hair from its ribbon and combing it out down her back.
The moment she was ready she trotted from her room and out to the doorway of Celebrían's room. Her sister was sitting, if a little impatiently, as the little ladies' handmaiden Lindaríel brushed out her hair, taking no notice of Rían's impatience.
"Are you ready, Ríel?"
Arnuríel turned to her father behind her, and gave a twirl, a little nervously. "Is this alright?"
Celeborn bent to place a little kiss on her forehead. "Very elegant, my lady."
Arnuríel smiled, pleased.
"And I?" Celebrían asked, popping up beside Arnuríel.
Celeborn laughed. "You both look beautiful. And both ready to meet a king regent, I do not doubt. Come, let us head down now."
Arnuríel remained close to her father's side as they almost glided up the centre of the throne room. The king's son sat on his throne upon a dais, and Arnuríel could see two young elves sitting on either side of him; the two princelings.
"Celeborn!" Thranduil greeted as they finally approached, after what seemed like an age of walking to Arnuríel. He stood and descended from his throne to embrace their father like an old brother.
"Thranduil, it has been too long, my friend," Celeborn replied with a firm smile, as Thranduil stepped back two steps, allowing Arnuríel to examine him properly. She knew her father was tall, but he did not seem so tall to her; Thranduil was only just a little taller than Celeborn yet to Ríel, he seemed huge. Towering above her, in his long intricate pale green robes. Yet he was another reminder of home, with his long straight blonde hair, an elaborate crown of leaves encircling his proud head. His eyes were piercing, Ríel had never seen eyes like them.
"May I present my sons," Thranduil stated, motioning his hand to the princes behind him. "Galasrinion, my eldest."
The taller of the two princes straightened his back, if possible, further, raising his head a little higher and giving them the smallest inclination of his head. "My lord."
"And my youngest, Legolas," Thranduil continued.
Arnuríel's eyes moved to the second prince, who was slouching to one side a little. Like Galasrinion, he was a spitting image of his father, blonde hair and all, though this younger prince had a curiously cheeky glint in his bright eyes.
"And these," Thranduil suddenly said, "must be the famous little ladies of Lothlorien!" He bent down a little to look at the young princesses a little closer, a kinder expression crossing his face as he addressed the younger elves.
"Indeed," Celeborn nodded, nudging his daughters forward a step. Celebrían stepped forward boldly, her head held high as she looked trustingly up at the king. Arnuríel was a little shyer, her head bowed, looking up at the king through her eyelashes.
"Let me guess," Thranduil decided, holding up a long finger and regarding them closely for a moment. Arnuríel knew why he had trouble. Although Celebrían was the older, Arnuríel was tall for her age, and as such, they could have been twins, rather than just sisters. He mused for a moment, before he pointed at Rían. "Lady Celebrían."
Celebrían gave an approving smile,and curtseyed. "Your majesty."
Thranduil nodded and moved his finger to Arnuríel. "So you must be the Lady Arnuíel."
"My lord," Arnuríel nodded shyly.
Celeborn stood tall again. "They are the very image of their mother, in beauty and grace."
"Thank you," Celeborn nodded gratefully. Arnuríel was not entirely sure of the sincerity of Thranduil's comment, but she was sure of his power and his grace. And she think she liked him. Though then again, Arnuríel liked everyone, upon principle; she found she liked and trusted everyone she met. Until they proved her very wrong, which did not happen often.
"I hope ada and the king's son sign this peace treaty soon," Celebrían mumbled as they strolled through the town. They had been in Greenwood for four days, and Celeborn had finally allowed his two daughters to explore the town alone, even letting Lindaríel having a day to her own devices.
And so the young elf maids were strolling the streets and seeing the sights, Arnuríel with slightly more enthusiasm. For such a strong willed, bold girl, Celebrían had too much of a love of home and comfort to want to leave it. She was utterly content with where she was and what she had and was very happy to keep it. Yet Celeborn had insisted that she accompany him to Greenwood, for her own good; Celebrían had a far better understanding of academics and writings than Arnuríel, and Celeborn believed a part in the creating of a treaty would further her education. Arnuríel, on the other hand, had been brought because she had firstly begged her father beyond comprehension, and because Celeborn hoped the treaty might begin her interest in any education at all. She was alike to her sister in looks, but Arnuríel, despire her initial shyness and need to please others, was the one for adventure, always curious as to what was beyond the next hill, always begging to ride a little further, have a weapons training session for a little longer. The sisters were two sides of the same coin.
"You cannot hate it all that much," Arnuríel replied with a bemused smile.
"Oh, I don't," Celebrían agreed. "But neither do I like it."
"You don't like it, because it's not home," Arnuríel pointed out.
"That's as may be, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm very much ready to go home," Celebríel replied.
"You've been ready to go home from the moment we left home," Ríel grinned.
"Alright, little sister, you do not have to be right all the time," Celebrían frowned, poking her in the ribs.
Arnuríel laughed, but she suddenly stopped in the middle of the path as a sight and sound caught her attention. She frowned as she stared between the houses to what she had found.
"Ríel? Are you coming?" Celebrían was a few steps ahead, and had only just noticed of her sister's pause. "Ríel?"
"Celebrían, look over there," Arnuríel pointed. Her sister trotted back and stared between the houses, her curiousity momentarily aroused for once.
However the moment she realised what it was her sister was staring at, she rolled her eyes and gazing skywards. "Not the training grounds, Ríel!"
"Come on!" a smile was spreading across Ríel's features and within a moment she was heading for the training grounds.
"Arnuríel, come back here, now!"
Arnuríel laughed a tinkling laugh as she continued in her endeavour. "Make me!"
"Ríel!"
"Ada said you had to take care of me, and I'm going over there, so you'd better come with me!"
She reached the fence of the grounds and hauled herself up, so that the balls of her feet stood on the lowest bracket, secretly booted beneath her dress, while her elbows rested upon the top most fence, so she could get a good view. Her father had not allowed her to bring any of her training weapons with her, except a small knife for protection. He had said it was because they were bringing Lorien guards with their company but Arnuríel could guess another reason. While her father had always approved and been encouraging of both his daughters learning how to defend themselves, he was not keen on the idea of having a full warrior for a daughter. But once Arnuríel had begun her training, she had never looked back. She loved the intricate dangerous dance, a different pattern of steps each time. She missed her training sessions with her instructor, and though she could not join in here, she was deeply curious to watch.
There were maybe two score of elves flitting about the arena, mostly Greenwood, but even some from her own travelling party; some discussing at the edges, some sparring in pairs with long thin blades, and some firing arrows at targets far off deep into the woods.
"Honestly, Ríel," Celebrían grumbled, pulling herself up onto the fence beside her younger sister. "Don't do that again."
"I'm sorry, Rían," Arnuríel murmured, not truly paying attention as she watched. Her attention had been drawn in particular to a pair crossing blades in the centre, and an elf watching them, stepping in to correct their positions, their movements.
"Are those the princelings?" Celebrían asked suddenly, frowning as she also regarded the trio.
"Yes, I think so," Arnuríel nodded. The young prince Legolas was sparring with another elfling, a female maid, no older than Celebrían, but she had dark hair and dark glinting eyes. Prince Galasrinion was pausing them now and then to step in and assist.
"Is he any good?" Rían asked.
"Who?"
"Prince Legolas, of course."
Arnuríel regarded the prince for a moment, closely watching his techniques. "Well, he's not bad. A little unbalanced now and then perhaps. But he has natural swordsmanship."
"Hm," Celebían muttered, but Arnuríel wasn't listening. The young prince had suddenly caught her watching him, and as she blushed nervously, his eyes narrowed with the ghost of a grin and he turned to mutter something to his brother. Galasrinion looked up at his words. He suddenly beckoned to the two sisters.
"Now what have you done," Rían grumbled, but in accordance with her upbringing, she pulled herself over the fence, straightening up and smoothing down her dress.
Ríel grinned and vaulted over after her, somewhat more elegantly, and followed her older sister across the field where the elves were all stopping to watch the little ladies cross to where the princes waited.
"My lady Celebrían," Galasrinion greeted, with the faintest of polite and noble smiles adorning his pale sharp features. "My lady Arnuríel."
"Your highnesses," Celebrían replied, and Arnuríel followed suit with a polite, shy curtsey.
"May we help you at all," Galasrinion asked.
"No, my sister just wished to watch your elves at work," Celebrían explained, and for a moment Arnuríel was struck by how grown up her sister and the Greenwood heir seemed. Legolas on the other hand, was leaning upon his blade, watching without a word. It suddenly struck Arnuríel that she had never heard the young prince speak.
"I suppose in Lorien you have no need for constant training," the elf maiden said, a little loftily, with a grin at Legolas.
"Perhaps, but that does not mean we do not train," Celebrían replied with a frown.
"My ladies, this is Tauriel, daughter of the Greenwood captain," Galasrinion introduced properly.
Arnuríel expected Tauriel to at least bow her head, but if anything Tauriel raised it proudly. Arnuríel was a little taken aback by her manner.
"I do not expect that the little ladies have had much training in the way of war," Legolas suddenly piped up and Arnuríel glanced at him. His voice, even for his age, was deep and quiet, as his brother's was, but there was something in the way of disdain or scorned amusement in his voice.
Celebrían suddenly glared at him. "And what do you mean by that, may I question."
"You are not warriors," Legolas replied. "You were born and brought up to sing songs and heal the hurting."
"I can take you any time I like," Celebrían growled, and Arnuríel stared across at her sister.
"Rían…" she murmured. If Legolas was speaking for the pair of them, he was very wrong, but if he were speaking of just Celebrían, he could not be more right.
"I doubt that," Tauriel scoffed, loftily, and Legolas laughed.
Arnuríel was not sure how everything happened so quickly in such a split second, but before she knew it, Celebrían, despite her fussiness of the state of her gown and all her hatred of fighting, had thrown herself at Legolas and they were rolling in the dust and the dirt.
"Celebrían!" Arnuríel cried out, and threw herself into the fray, alongside, she realised, Galasrinion. Doing her best to avoid the punches being thrown from both parties, Arnuríel grapped her sister to the floor, and dragged her off, using all her strength to keep her from throwing herself again.
"Get her, Legolas!" Tauriel was laughing gleefully, but Galasrinion was hauling Legolas away just as Arnuríel was attempting to do.
"Rinion, get off!" Legolas shouted, struggling against his brother.
"Rían, stop it!" Arnuríel begged, trying to hold down her flailing sister.
"And what," a voice suddenly boomed above their heads, "is occurring here, may I ask."
Ríel froze, her sister a sudden statue in her arms.
Legolas suddenly struggled to his feet, and bowed his head, staring defiantly at the ground. "Ada. Lord Celeborn." He swallowed.
Galasrinion cuffed Legolas about the head, and then stood back, Tauriel with him, though her posture seemed more trying to hide from her king.
Arnuríel stood up slowly, and smoothed her dress down, as her sister followed suit, a dark expression adorning her face. Slowly, Ríel turned to face her father, and the king's son. Thranduil looked, if anything, faintly amused, though he was eyeing his youngest son suspiciously. Celeborn on the other hand, had an utterly unamused expression and was staring down at his two daughters, utterly unimpressed.
"Celeborn, I do apologise for the rash actions of my sons, I shall get to the bottom of this before long, I can assure you," Thranduil stated, one eye still watching his sons.
"I can only beg forgiveness for the unladylike actions of my daughters," Celeborn countered. "I can only thank the stars it was my eldest, and not Arnuríel who flew, or I hate to think of the war we would be at. I shall speak to them immediately. If you would excuse us."
"Of course," Thranduil nodded. He gave the slightest of winks down at Arnuríel before allowing the two sisters to pass him, following Celeborn back toward the palace.
Celebrían was grumbling as they went, but Arnuríel ignored her, instead turned briefly to look back. Thranduil was thoroughly admonishing his youngest son, while Galasrinion looked on disapprovingly. Legolas looked utterly sullen and was seemingly attempting to protest. But as Arnuríel looked back he caught her eyes and suddenly stuck out his tongue and glowered at her.
And in that moment, for the first time since her arrival, Arnuríel gave him a furious glare in return and the little elf maiden decided that she did not like Prince Legolas, grandson of the king of Greenwood.