A Hint of Dawn

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings. All characters from the LOTR books or any other of Tolkien's works belong to him.

Chapter 1: Descisions

Light pierced Amariel's eyelids when she woke, causing her to press a hand to her face. She was lying against something soft and warm, a strong contrast to the cold and rugged ground beneath her. Sitting up slowly, she drew her hand away and let the light into her eyes once more. It seemed so bright, so piercing and clear… then her eyes got used to the light and she realized that was not the case at all. The light around her was soft, only very few beams trickling through the canopy above her, like it was with more or less all of Mirkwood these days. She sighted and stretched, feeling wretched. Her head was hurting, her stomach was aching, she felt ready to throw up, and various other parts of her body hurt from the bad sleeping location. Then suddenly she felt something warm slip off her stomach and land with a soft thud next to her. Her eyes opened immediately and she looked over at the elf next to her. For a moment her mind had trouble comprehending who this was. A noldo, she could tell by the color of his hair. Then her mind slowly caught up, and she remembered being with him the previous night.

"Oh," she mouthed and looked down at herself. She was barely dressed underneath her blanket. The blanket… She could not remember ever having taken a blanket the night before. Then she looked over at the noldo, again. He was dressed, and clean. He must have woken up during the night, she thought, after she had gone to sleep, and dressed himself so he could drape the small blanket fully around her. She smiled. That was sweet.

She reached for his hand that had fallen from her stomach, and placed it in a more comfortable position next to him. She would have done more, but she was hardly presentable herself. Not to mention the headache she was having. She sighted and stood, taking with her now dirty blanket and her clothes. Then she hesitated for a moment. Her headache was becoming worse, but she was a girl of the forest. She knew the bones they had left still had some meat on them, and that smell could attract unwanted visitors to their fireplace while she was gone and he still slept, very vulnerable. Her headache would have to wait, she decided as she draped her clothes and dirty blanket over one hand, then bent to pick up the bones. Suddenly the world tilted, and she dropped her blanket and clothes. She cursed, her headache acting up again. Poorly coordinated, she realized, and cursed herself for the drinks she had the previous night.

Looking for a solution, she spotted her bag, and moved lightly over to it. I could put the dirty clothes in this, she thought with a flicker of victory. And then hang it from her shoulder so she could use both hands to carry the bones! Smiling, she did just that, stumbling a little when she went to the fireplace and grinning when she carried the bones away from the clearing. She would simply bury them nearby, then take a bath in the river, she considered. The bag was a good idea as well. In it, she knew she had supplies for the headache, and next to it she had spotted her bow and arrows. Those were also good to take, she reasoned. One never knew when self-defense was neccecary in this forest… She grinned for a moment, before it melted off her face and was replaced by a scowl as her eyes closed. Her head was hurting. She looked around. Perhaps there were some athelas nearby? She would have to look for that after her bath… Finally she stumbled out of the clearing, heading for the river she knew was near.

AHoD

AHoD

Elladan woke to a heavy headache and aching back. He groaned miserably, tilting onto his stomach and sighing, his face buried in the blanket. His mind was addled, slow, and for a while he remained there wondering what had happened. Where was he? He opened one eye, blinking as the sudden light pierced his eyes sending a sharp spike though his head. Mirkwood. What was he doing in Mirkwood? He groaned again, burying his face in the blanket when a soft scent suddenly registered. It was a faded floral scent, and distinctly feminine. Then suddenly Elladan remembered. The warg that had dragged him all the way into Mirkwood before suddenly being shot. The elleth that showed up. Ah, the elleth…

He sat up immediately, looking around the small clearing. There was no sign of her, he realized. He was sitting on the blanket, completely alone in the forest. He tried standing, only to stumble to the nearest tree and take a deep breath. His head was aching, his brain foggy and slow. Elladan squeezed his eyes shut. If someone, or something found him now, he would be completely and utterly helpless.

No sooner had he thought that, than he registered movement at the edge of the clearing. Speak of Morgoth, Elladan thought bitterly and cursed, trying to make his eyes focus. His sword… where was his sword?

"By the valar, look who it is!" Elladans eyes snapped up at the familiar voice, and he looked for a moment in utter surprise as his mirror image strolled into the clearing. He was grinning.

"You, my lord, are far too lucky for your own good." Elladan looked at his second in command, Sadron. "Do you know how worried we have been?"

Iston, another patrol member shook his head. "You lead us all, battered and hungry, on a wild goose chase, and now we find you perfectly fine. How come? Last we saw you, you were disappearing into the forest, into Mirkwood no less, dragged by a warg, and now here you are!" He glanced at the blanket and now dead fire. "Been having a nice nap?"

Elladan shook his head slowly and looked around.

"Where is she?"

They frowned.

"Who?" One patrol member asked.

"The girl… The elleth…" His eyes searched the clearing, looking for any sign of her. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Elrohir and Sadron exchange a look.

"There is no elleth in our patrol, Elladan." Sadron said slowly. Elrohir was making his way over to him.

"Not in our patrol," Elladan said distractedly. "She was silvan, I think…"

He stood unsteadily from the tree he had been leaning on and looked around again. There really was no sign of her, not a single trace of her passing… Elrohir touched his brother's brow. "Are you feeling well, Elladan?"

Elladan blinked. "Yes, I am fine." He tried to take a step, but stumbled. He felt his face go white as his head gave a painful throb. He pressed his hands to his eyes, causing white lights to appear.

"No, you certainly are not." Elrohir said, and all traces of humour in his voice were gone. Elladan looked around again. He would have sworn the elleth was there just last night. She must have left some trace. He would have to take a closer look.

"I'm fine, muindor. I just need to find her… I never got to know her name…" Elrohir supported him as he stumbled to the dead fire.

"Who, Elladan?" He asked wearily. "There is no elleth, nor was there any when we arrived." Elladan did not answer, studying the fire instead. The bones from last night's meal were gone.

"Elladan, think about where we are, muindor nín." When Elladan did not respond Elrohir continued. "This is Mirkwood. It does not make sense for any random elleth to suddenly happen to be here. Especially not alone. You must have been hallucinating."

Elladan frowned.

"No, I was not." He murmured distractedly, looking around the clearing again. "We ate by the fire, right here…" Elrohir frowned.

"And where are the bones?" he asked. He looked around. "Where are her belongings?" Then he looked at the blanket which they had used as a sleeping pad. He scowled.

"Why did you sleep on the ground out in the open like this? Have you not thought about how dangerous that is? And you did it all alone as well…!" He trailed off, his voice incredulous.

Ignoring him, Elladan studied the ground around the fireplace carefully. Or rather, as carefully as he managed when he could barely focus. Finally he answered

"She said it was safe." he gave a long pause, eyes glazing over as he looked at the dead embers. "She was so…" he could not finish as his head gave a particularly bad throb, and he moaned quietly, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, Elrohir was right in front of him. His scowl was gone, along with all anger. Instead he looked very worried.

"Elladan, can you hear me? What is the name of our father?" Elladan looked at him for a long time, before answering slowly.

"Elrond…?" His tone made it sound almost like a question, and Elrohir cursed.

"Sadron, get my healing bag. Everybody else, clear the area. We don't want the elves of this forest to know we've been here without their consent." He pulled his brothers hand over his shoulder, and led them to the trees. Sadron caught up with them and handed him his bag. They made Elladan sit at the edge of the clearing, as Elrohir dug through his bag.

"A concussion," Elrohir said in answer to Sadron's questioning look. "He probably got it while being dragged by the foot through the forest. Valar, I should have noticed earlier." He handed Elladan some dried herbs, along with his water pouch. Elladan however, was not cooperating. He put a hand up, refusing the water.

"I do not have a concussion," he said, his words slow. "I felt perfectly fine yesterday. It is probably only the aftereffects of dorwinion." Elrohir frowned.

"Elbereth, please just take the medicine Elladan!" He shoved it at him and Elladan took it. "Like I said, you were hallucinating, or perhaps simply dreaming. I do not know what happened. I have no idea how you managed to finally free yourself from the warg, nor how you killed the thing. What I do know is that the elleth you are talking about was not real! If she was, where are the bones of the meal the two of you enjoyed? Where are the bottles of dorwinion you drank? Where are her belongings? And even more pressing; where is she? If she was real, why would she leave?"

Elladan had no answer, and for a long time he sat in silent thought. Why would she leave? If his memories were right, she should have been lying next to him, wrapped in the blanket he had found in her bag. The bottles of whine would also be in her bag, as he had cleared up a little last night. Why? He'd simply done it. He was not sure why. He pressed his hands to his temples as he watched his patrol clear the area. His only chance to see if she was real, to have definite proof, would be to check the ground. He would have to study the prints carefully and determine whether they all were his, or maybe some belonged to someone else. But that chance was diminishing rapidly before his eyes as the patrol stomped around and swept the area, ruining any prints she might have left.

When one patrol member came up with his blanket, he took it and quickly unrolled it, smelling the fabric. He had caught her scent earlier. Perhaps this was his last chance for proof. But it smelled only of dirt and earth. No trace left of her. He looked up hopelessly as Elrohir carefully took his blanket from him and rewrapped it. He said nothing, but Elladan could see his worry and conviction in his eyes. And somehow, he started to doubt himself.

Perhaps they were right, he thought as the patrol gathered around them again, Sadron taking the lead while Elrohir and a couple of others cared for Elladan. Maybe she had not been real after all.

AHoD

AHoD

Amariel straightened her back, aiming at the target. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then stilled, keeping her bow held as solidly as possible. The sharp twang sounded by her ear, then the arrow lodged itself in the target ahead, missing the center. Even so, it was her best shot yet this day.

She sighed deeply, lowering her bow and staring at her intended target in dismay. It was rather large, and yet she had not managed to hit the center even once today. Behind her Legolas was sitting quietly, watching.

"You're not focused, sister." Amariel turned to him.

"I am centered on the task at hand," she claimed, but Legolas stood, shaking his head.

"Nay, you are not." He moved closer to her, her twin knives in his hands. They had been practicing with them earlier today, and her performance had left much to be desired there as well. Amariel blushed at the memory of her quick defeat.

"You are usually skilled with these," Legolas commented as he handed them to her. "as you usually do well with a bow. And yet today you miss the target, and I disarmed you so easily I would have thought you had no training at all." He turned inquisitive eyes on her. "What bothers you so?"

"I…" Amariel swallowed. It was not like she could tell him the reason of her distraction. How would she explain her situation? What if her tests had been false? She did not want to tell him. Not unless she had to.

Legolas frowned at her, but a sudden voice interrupted whatever he wanted to say.

"Prince Legolas! Princess Amariel!" She turned as the ellon neared, recognizing Avormen a solder of the royal guard. He was well acquainted with the royal family, hence the familiar terms. He said her name with a tinge of surprise. "I did not think I would find you on the training fields at this hour, particularly not you, princess." He studied her curiously, a spark of hope in his eyes. "Are you taking up fighting again?"

"Nay!" She said quickly, before she caught herself. He raised his eyebrows in surprise at her sudden reaction and Amariel felt the all-too familiar heat in her cheeks.

"Umm… What I meant was… I had no intention of taking up my previous… occupation… I only…" She fumbled for words, all of a sudden feeling nervous under his eyes. She hoped fervently he would not try to invite her to a friendly duel, now that they were here. It was a common thing, yet she doubted she was ready for it. Not yet.

"Well, you certainly intended something as you both are here. May I join you?"

Her glance of alarm at her brother was hidden by the curtain of her hair.

"I fear we have just finished for today," Legolas responded smoothly, answering her silent call for help. "We were just packing our things." Seeing the other's disappointment, he smiled.

"Come, I could do with a little more training. Will you join me for a friendly duel?" Avormen's eyes lighted up at being offered to fight his prince and general, and he accepted the offer vigorously. When he moved off to collect weapons at the armory, Legolas turned to Amariel once more.

"You still will not fight any others," he said with dismay. When Amariel did not answer, he shook his head.

"I understand your fear Amariel, but it has been centuries!"

"But what would you have me do?!" Amariel stared at him in chagrin. "You know it still feels too close… What if I loose, and it stirs up my memories… What if I have a moment of recollection?"

Legolas frowned. "And yet you cannot keep running from your fears forever. One day you will have to face them."

"Who says I have to?" She shot back, suddenly feeling angry. "Why do I have to fight? There is no need, I am a highborn lady after all. I can live a peaceful life."

"Inside?" Legolas asked incredulously. "You would live a life, safe and sound within the elvenkings halls, never to travel to any other lands? To live out your days in Mirkwood, cooking and sewing, knitting and painting. You would learn couture and etiquette, so you can make beautiful dresses and speak kindly with other nobles. One day you might be responsible for our guest's welfare, another you would spend your time managing the household, helping with paperwork and aiding in the rule of the kingdom. Do you realize what kind of life that would be?

Perhaps you might be allowed to walk freely in the cities to speak with the people, or even go for a ride once in a while, but it would be a rare occurance and always with a proper escort to ensure your safety. And then life would go back to the way it was, weaving, tending gardens, embroidering and cleaning. I know you well enough to know that is not a life you would enjoy, Amariel. Even now you chafe at customs and duties, can you imagine how this would be once you have fully decided on your course?"

When she did not respond Legolas shook his head, frustrated with her. "Such a course of action would be folly, muinthel! Either way, your fears would catch up with you in the end. Do you not think you will meet another human being again, perhaps? Or ever have to defend yourself?"

Amariel shook her head, looking at the ground in shame. Legolas' rant was followed for a while with silence.

"I'm sorry," Amariel said finally, and Legolas deflated. He pulled her close, and she buried her face in his shoulder.

"I only worry about you," he said finally, voice soft and strangely tired. "I would not see you hurt, yet the path you choose cannot lead to anything else."

"But can't you see?" Amariel asked, her voice quavering. "I can't face my memories, yet I cannot let go of the past." She pulled back, looking at him with bright eyes. "It leaves only one choice, if I never want to see people of that kind again. Mirkwood is safe. I know humans will never come far into this forest."

Legolas remained quiet for a while, looking at her with brooding eyes. "Which is why you deem it safe enough to explore the forest alone." He surmised, and Amariel stiffened, suddenly reminded of the reason she had been worrying earlier this day. Legolas looked at her with a mix of anger and weariness, then sighed.

"Ai, Amariel," he lamented quietly. "you will be the death of us all." Amariel only bowed her head once more and looked away. Suddenly she noticed Avormen, waiting at a respectfull distance well out of earshot. She wondered how long he had waited.

Legolas' eyes followed hers and she heard a soft chuckle. She turned back to see him smiling wistfully. "He finally made it out of the armory, I see." He commented quietly, only for her ears. She met his eyes once more, not sure what to say to that and he sighed.

"You should go then, muinthel," he said tiredly. "If you are sure you will tread this path. The minstrels await you." Amariel could only nod, and he turned and walked over to the other elf.

Soon they were immersed in battle, skillfully exchanging thrusts and parries, moving lightly about the field. Her brother had already gained the upper hand, she saw, though Avormen might not be aware of it yet. With a sigh she turned and headed off the field.

She knew she had to meet in the Silver-Chamber soon, where she would be expected to practice the arts of song and dance. But there was something she had to do first.

She made her way to the Green Forest on the north eastern section of the palace, making some shortcuts along the way. Soon she was deep within, listening to the melodies that floated through the air, birdsong and laughter reaching her from afar. The sounds lifted her spirits as they reminded her of Greenwood the Great, the joyous place this forest had once been. Even so, worry snaked itself through her when she finally recognized the plant she had been looking for.

Taking a deep breath, she plucked a couple of the leaves and studied them pensively. This was the moment of truth, she knew. The leaves in her hands were pale green, deceptively innocent looking. With mildly shaking hands, she lifted them to her mouth and chewed. The by now familiar flavour of the leaves filled her mouth. This was the third time she'd tasted it this week.

She glanced around quickly, listening carefully for intruders. When she was sure there were nobody around she closed her eyes, praying quietly for the leaves to remain unchanged. Then she spit them into her hand and looked. Her stomach dropped. The leaves had turned dark green, with tinges of blue; just like the previous two plants she'd chewed. Amariel sighed, leaning back against the tree she sat under. She could no longer deny it. The three tests she'd done all showed the same thing: she was pregnant.

The thought alone sent chills of apprehension down her back. She had been a virgin until only recently, thus she knew who the father must be: the noldor of the forest. And yet the thought struck her as impossible.

For days she had wondered whether or not he existed, whether he might have been a dream or some hallucination brought on by the alcohol. There had been no sign of him when she returned, and so she had finally come to the conclusion that he had been a figment of her imagination. Yet today, a full and a half moon later, she realized it had been real. She'd met a stranger in the forest, and become pregnant. With a final glance at the dark green leaves, she turned and wiped of her hands, pulling some plants and leaves to hide the evidence.

She was pregnant with a stranger. The thought kept repeating itself in her head, reminding her of the severity of the situation. Had she been a commoner, the daughter of a gatherer perhaps, this would have been bad enough. Had she been a mere noble, it would have been worse. But a princess, the only daughter of the king of Mirkwood? She could only imagine the consequences if this was known through the kingdom. The daughter of their king lost her virtue to a stranger?

It was a great dishonor to her family, and a scandal to the crown. Particularly with the darkness threatening the kingdom from the south, the ever increasing masses of orcs and spiders encroaching upon their realm. They needed a stern, steadfast king, one that could handle such occurrences and protect the people. What would they think then, if he could not even protect his own daughter's virtue? What would they think when he was unable to control even his own kin? She knew well of the nobles in the realm that wanted power. Some of them had support even within the king's closest counsellors.

Their kingship had been short after all, started, as it was by Oropher, her own grandfather, and so, even though they were of higher birth than any other sindar in the realm, it did not automatically give them the right to rule, nor the support of the people. This especially became a problem after her father married her mother. She was silvan and avari, none of which people viewed nobility as the eldar did. They followed strength, any who had power enough of mind and body to resist the darkness and protect them. Such things often were often inherited, yet it was not always the case, and thus, even though her mother came of a line of leaders, she was not counted as nobility and therefore considered unfit to marry Thranduil by many sindar.

Amariel shook her head slowly, an expression of deep dismay forming on her face. Nay, their situation was far too delicate for her to disturb it with a scandal. Particularly in these perilous times when the realm needed a strong leader more than ever.

And yet, what was she to do? An elven pregnancy lasted a full year, so she knew she would have about 5 cycles of the moon until her baby became doubtlessly apparent. From this day that would be about 3 and a half moons until the realm would knew about her, whether she willed it or not. She doubted their situation would be any less dire then than it was now.

The thought passed her by, that she could maybe fully avoid detection. For a moment she considered dressing as a commoner or hiding in the palace, but she quickly dropped the idea. People would question why she suddenly would not come out to be amongst them, and given that she needed food and water the truth would come out some day, some way. As for dressing as a commoner, where would she go? Her father would not condone such actions, and if she slipped out of the palace and mingled with the people, a search would quickly have begun after her. She knew well her appearance was much too distinct to stay hidden long: For one, she had inherited much of her appearance from her mother, who was well known amongst both silvans and avari, and her father's thick eyebrows and piercing stare. If not those similarities to two prominent figures were enough, she would be found by her brown hair that paled to blonde in streaks and along the tips. It was a distinct sign of mixed sindar and silvan/avari heritage, and unions of that kind were few and far in between. She could easily be picked out amongst children of such pairs. In other words, there was no hiding in Mirkwood.

Ai, valar, Amariel lamented, feeling a bout of self-pity and worry. What would she do then? She could not tell her family or any other of her plight for fear of destabilizing an already delicate situation, and yet she could not hide it as the child could not remain hidden.

She thought of the father, wondering if he knew about, or even cared for the child. For a moment she felt angry at him. He had impregnated her, then left her and the child to their own devices! A moment later the anger abated as she actually remembered the situation. She imagined he had drunk a little as well. After all, it was she who had served him dorwinion. And then, if only one elf actively did not wish for conception, it would be enough to prevent such a situation from arising. Perhaps he assumed she would stop such an occurrence from happening. Usually there was more reason for a female to actively prevent conception than a male elf, thus perhaps he had thought she would prevent it. Either way she was as much to blame for this as he.

She sighed, and pressed her hands into her eyes, seeing stars appear. As they receded his face appeared once more, branded into her memory as it were. She frowned and was about to open her eyes when suddenly an idea registered.

She could not prevent her secret from being spilled, but she could lessen the damage it would make when it did come out. The thought brought her new hope, and once more she saw him in her mind's eye, smiling at her. She could find this elf, she thought. Learn of his name and perhaps tell him of her plight. Then at least, the princess would not have been with a complete stranger.

But then again he was a noldo. She frowned a little in dismay at the complications that brought forth, yet there was nothing for it. She saw no other viable option. She was going to Rivendell.

Author's note

Hi again, and thank you for reading! I have gotten some followers which I honestly did not expect, so I am glad you enjoyed this story.

Tibblets: Thank you! I agree, and I do not think Tolkien considered it quite realistic either. Rather, I think the elves were his imagined "perfect people" and as a devout catholic that meant abstinence I guess.