So, here's the new story… This one will be updated every Friday like my other two stories, for any who were interested and read the authors notes. I plan to keep the stories up now that I'm not as busy anymore … Anyways, I hope you enjoy the story! Note: I will not be updating my other two stories today because I did that yesterday. I will update it next Friday or possibly sooner. But this one will stay every Friday, unlike the other two. By the way! I have no elven dictionaries or whatever to form sentences with. So unless someone recommends a really good site, all elvish will be in italics.
Booms sounded throughout the forest. A mother ran with her child, attempting to evade the lingering danger. She knew Mirkwood was dangerous, but she had no other choice of where to go. She was being hunted in the lands of Rohan, hated by the Steward of Gondor, and had been trying to avoid all elven realms. Especially Mirkwood. But the mother had no choice; if her daughter was to live, she would need to be with her father. With her people. Her daughter ran a few feet in front of her, having more stamina and energy already than her mother.
"Merenwen!" The mother called. Her daughter turned around, stopping in her tracks. Dirt floated around her feet for a seconds before falling to the ground. Merenwen looked at her mother with a questioning gaze; had she not told her to run for her life a few moments ago? The mother kneeled in front of the child, holding out a sword and envelope. "You will take this sword and fight for your life. You will stuff this envelope in your pack and get it to King Thranduil." The mother commanded. She could hear the booms of the Great Spiders getting louder with every second. Even though it pained her so, she shoved the sword into her daughter's hands and stuffed the note into her daughters pack. The mother looked deeply into her daughters eyes, sending waves of love over as she pulled the cloak over the child's eyes and shielding her pointed ears from view.
"Where are you going?" Merenwen asked, noticing her mother getting up and turning away. There was a flinch in her mother's composure and the daughter turned her head in confusion. There was no answer but a fleeting smile as her mother turned to look at her for a moment before turning away. And then she was gone. Lost in the heavy brush of Mirkwood. Merenwen had no idea where she was; she had no idea where the King was, but she had heard a lot about him and the mysterious Mirkwood guard. And the Great Spiders, who she could see coming for her right now as she held out the sword. While she had learned little of sword fighting, Merenwen knew enough to defend herself. Besides, she was better with a bow.
The first spider was easy to take down. It seemed as if it was younger, weaker. She was able to turn and slash at the stomach, making it curl up on itself. The next two came in a pair, as if they were twins. And more twins came along with them. That was how Merenwen viewed it; and even as she twirled and slashed, she knew she was getting nowhere. She was only keeping the spiders at bay, and she couldn't keep up the façade for much longer. She was only 50 years old; while she had quite the abundance of energy and usually never tired, she had never had to fight off twelve spiders by herself. Blood now stained her blade and hand as she ducked and stabbed the head of another Great Spider. But she was losing strength. When all hope seemed to vanish as she could barely duck in time to miss a stinger heading directly for her head, an arrow appeared in the spider next to her. And the next. She continued to fight with a renewed energy, confident that these arrows were elvish; she knew enough about their culture that they would not kill her until they interrogated her.
One by one, Merenwen was able to successfully take out the spiders with the help of the elves. Besides her mother, whom she was not even sure was an elf, she had never seen one. Except for herself, of course. But her mother and she often stayed away from elvish realms, wishing to stay hidden. Merenwen knew not of why this had occurred, but she wished so dearly so she had been able to see an elf when she had been younger. Not when she was covered in Great Spider blood. So when she stabbed the last spider and whirled around, she was more than surprised when she saw an arrow pointed between her eyes. She immediately put up the shield her mother had taught her, not letting anyone see her emotions. She could feel the dagger pressing up against her thigh, and quiver pushing into her back. It was times like this, where the tenseness in the air made her want to fight. She gripped her sword, waiting for someone to say something.
"Hello. My name in Merenwen, daughter of Nariel. I am no danger to any of you." I spoke clearly, remembering the speech of my kin that my mother taught me. They looked at me oddly, and I wondered why. Did none of them speak Quenya? I decided to switch to Sindarin. "Do any of you speak Quenya? I know Sindarin, but it is not very good." She bit my lip, hoping someone understood. Her mother had barely started teaching me Sindarin, and while I caught on quickly and was eager to learn, she always got the two elvish languages confused. Merenwen frowned when no one immediately answered, and sighed.
"I understood you. What are you doing out here alone? Elflings are rare nowadays. We have no proof you are anything but evil. This forest is plagued, and there is no proof to trust you." A blond elf spoke up, putting down his bow. His Quenya was near perfect, although there seemed to be a slight accent. The ranks split as he moved forward, and she was relieved. He must be of a higher placing. She noticed his eyes were forest green and sea blue, mixed together. Just like mine. She examined the warrior braids and the sheathed twin blades so similar to her mothers.
"My mother and I were traveling, when Great Spiders found us. My mother ran away for some reason unknown to me. I thank you for aiding me with the Spiders, by the way. However, I have a letter I must deliver to King Thranduil. Do you know the way?" Merenwen explained her dilemma, speaking in Quenya yet again. The elves around her grew nervous and irritated, not being able to understand the girl and their prince. They glanced over worriedly, arrows still nocked and ready to fire at the single flick of the wrist.
"I cannot yet trust you, yet I cannot leave an elfling out here when they are so rare. You will give me your weapons and follow me and two other guards to the palace." The prince explained. Something was familiar about the young elleth, something with the face. It was as if he had known her from somewhere; a name came to mind for a moment before he shoved it away. It had been so long since that night and he had finally forgotten the pain of waking up the next day alone… He did not wish to go through the same pain again. But it ached in his heart once more, and he felt some connection with the child. He was not sure whether or not he liked it, however. He watched in interest as Merenwen pulled out the dagger, handed the guards her sword, and took the quiver off her shoulder. She finally handed the guards the bow with the utmost care, something he would have done when he was her age. He explained what was going on to the confused guards, and they nodding in understanding.
"What is going on?" Merenwen cried out warily, when she was blindfolded. She struggled against the guards, not liking her sight being taken away. She kicked wildly and strained at their holds before she was dropped to the ground, blindfold falling off. She looked over to see the guards on the floor, and the blonde elf standing angrily in front of them. She looked in fear to the same blonde elf who looked at her with regret, as is he wished to take that moment back. But she nodded, accepting his silent apology.
The guards watched back and forth at this silent exchange, unknown to the two elves. They saw the similarities between their prince and the elleth they had found, and they witnessed the anger he had used when the elfling had been blindfolded. When she had bucked and kicked, it was a similar reaction to what the Prince had done when he was in training. They smiled within the ranks, all having a mutual understanding in the situation.
The prince looked back towards his ranks, who were all smiling in their eyes. He rolled his own, and motioned for the guards to get up quickly. He looked back towards Merenwen, who understood the notion and followed him. The two guards walking uneasily in the rear, carrying the weapons the young elleth carried. They had been shocked that an elfling who could be no older than 50 years old had been so experienced with a blade, so cautious with the bow. They were also surprised to see the magic dagger, and knew the legend. But they did not tell their prince. They feared he would fall into another heartbroken stupor, and could not afford it. Not with Mirkwood so… poisoned.
As they walked back towards the palace, Merenwen could not help but notice how the forest grew healthier, as if a light surrounded the area and clouded out the darkness. Occasionally climbing trees and jumping onto rocks, Merenwen would enjoy the conversations of the trees. So much in fact, she nearly bumped into the blonde haired elf. The other two guards following closely behind had slightly darker hair, but not by much. She noticed their hands leap towards the daggers at their sides, but fall slowly as she took a step back from him. What title did he have exactly, that made him so important? Merenwen continued getting more and more lost in her thoughts until she had stopped paying attention to her surroundings. She was even more confused when she collided with the elf's back, but she realized something; finally, after walking for a few hours, they had reached the palace of Mirkwood. She stared in wonder at the carven stone and trees that grew around the palace; also the roaring river beneath their feet.
"Father! This elfling requires an audience with you!" The Prince called out, catching his father's attention. He sat on his throne in the room, just watching. He observed throughout the windows, wanting to know the happenings of the outside world. Sometimes the inside caves grew boring.
"And what, dear Legolas, would this elfling wish to speak about? They are rare nowadays." King Thranduil spoke loudly, yet clearly. His voice was strong and he was surrounded in an aura of power. He examined the elfling before him, gazing into her eyes. For a young elleth, she stood her ground well. He could see the toned muscles in her arms and through her leggings as she stood; he observed the odd Noldorian brown hair she had, but the blonde streaks running through it made her an eye-catcher. Yet her eyes were exactly like his sons; forest green mixed with the blue of the sea. He would have smiled when he noticed how his son and the elleth in front of him held themselves the same way, if it not for the fact he had to come off as a cold-hearted King in public.
"Mae govannen, King Thranduil. My Naneth wished for you to have a letter. All I ask for is some housing for a few days and allowing me to give the letter to you." Merenwen spoke, with almost the same tone the King did. He gazed at her harshly for her bluntness, but his features softened when he realized she was alone. He decided he would have to talk about it to Legolas later.
"And as long as you explain to me your dilemma, penneth, you may stay as long as you need."