"But you won't be accompanying me to Mirkwood?"

Erulastiel's voice was sharp, sharper than she wished when addressing her dearest handmaiden, Istimiel. The elf was slightly older than Erulastiel, but held on to the youthful nature that enhanced their relationship. When Erulastiel was born, Istimiel had been bound to her service as handmaiden and teacher, instructing the princess in ways of courtly responsibility and feminine manners. Despite the lessons never taking hold, the two remained near inseparable when Erulastiel slept in her chambers at Lothlorien, and was away from ranging at the borders.

"My lady, King Thranduil insists that two riders – you and his Kingship – will travel faster without handmaidens and attendants," Istimiel said. "He has even turned down the honor guard your parents offered."

Erulastiel's eyes narrowed, her mind raced through thoughts of their conversation the previous night. This wasn't about expediency, she realized. This was Thranduil playing the game – he wanted control, and assumed isolating her from her past at Lothlorien in every way would expedite that process. Little did he know, she thought, that she wouldn't give in so easily. Smiling to ease Istimiel's concerned stare, she returned to the task at hand: packing for life in the Woodland Realm.

"Hasn't King Thranduil offered to have new garments fitted once you reach his land?" Istimiel asked.

"Oh yes," Erulastiel responded, her voice dripping with disdain. "And what will he ensure is sewn? Dresses and gowns, no doubt. I will not surrender my way of life to boost his ego."

Istimiel's eyebrows raised, but she said nothing against Erulastiel's harsh words.

"Very well, my lady. Best to make haste. King Thranduil expects to leave within the morn."

Erulastiel snorted, a very unladylike action that earned her a disapproving stare from Istimiel. She took no heed.

"King Thranduil will leave when I am ready, and no sooner," she responded. "Now, help me finish so I may dress and leave with my dashing future husband."

The packing was completed within the hour. Istimiel aided Erulastiel in choosing clothing for the long road ahead, one that would take them through the forest, then across vast plains, then through the deep and treacherous woods of Mirkwood. They finally decided upon stiff leather boots and tough leggings that would protect her feet and legs whether riding or walking, and a long tunic with vest and cloak to outfit her body. Her hair was drawn back with tight braids to keep her eyes free for the journey, and Istimiel tied a leather band about her forehead to ensure the tendrils stayed put.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," Erulastiel called, finishing gathering her weapons for the journey. She would not find herself in the wilderness without her bow and arrow, nor without her blade, with which she found herself adequate, but not properly skilled. Still, it would not hurt to have its protection close at hand.

Lady Galadriel glided into her chambers, hair shining like burnished gold, eyes glistening with prophecy. Istimiel bowed deeply, waiting for Galadriel's soft nod before rising and continuing to ready Erulastiel.

"How fare you, my daughter?" she asked calmly, encircling the room while inspecting Erulastiel's choice in clothing.

"Well, mother," Erulastiel responded, absentmindedly pulling a sleeve of her tunic over the bruises Thranduil had graced her wrist with.

Her mother noticed her small movement, but said nothing. Doubtless, she already knew of their argument. Her mother's silence was a blessing for Erulastiel, and she gave silent thanks that she would not be forced to contend with her parents today. Unhappy as she was with Galadriel and Celeborn, she did not wish for her last day in Lothlorien to be marred by memories of bickering – one month seemed like eons.

"I have come bearing a gift," Galadriel said, her liquid voice breaking Erulastiel away from her thoughts.

From a satchel over her shoulder, Galadriel drew a shimming platinum tunic, silvery-white in color and dancing with the brightness of the stars. Erulastiel felt drawn to its fabric. She ran her hands over it, feeling its lightness and softness. Her eyes met her mother's – which betrayed nothing, as usual.

"Mithril?" she asked, her voice wondrous.

Galadriel nodded.

"You embark on a dangerous journey, daughter," she said. "You face threats from many sides. May this tunic guard you from foes both far and near, and protect you from all harm."

Erulastiel bowed deeply, then removed her outer garments to ensure the mithril found its way against her skin. Cool and light, it was unnoticeable underneath her clothing. Her mother smiled and nodded to Istimiel, who had finished gathering Erulastiel's belongings.

"Shall we find King Thranduil?" she asked, her lips turning upward in a slight smile.

Erulastiel nodded, swallowed hard, then turned her back away from her chambers and ventured out to meet her future husband. She did not look back.


"What delays them that I must linger here?" Thranduil's deep voice rumbled, his impatience blunt as he stalked the floor of the small council chamber. "We should have made for the forest hours ago."

Celeborn gazed evenly at the Elvenking.

"Patience, dear Thranduil," he said evenly. "You mean to take my daughter away for a lifetime. Surely a few more hours in her homeland will not gravely impair your journey."

Thranduil turned to mutter an insult against the Lord of Lothlorien, but stopped as the door to the chambers was roughly forced open. His eyes first found the Lady Galadriel as she floated effortlessly into the room, and then fell upon the small figure behind her – Erulastiel. When she saw him standing against the wall, she allowed for a small, smug bow before turning to her father.

"I am ready," she said firmly, her voice projecting more courage and strength than she truly felt.

Lord Celeborn's eyes glazed slightly, but they hardened as he rose and embraced his daughter.

"Yes, you are," he said softly. He released her and cupped her face in his hands, gazing into her eyes before stepping away. "Your future husband awaits rather impatiently. Best you found your way before the morrow falls."

Erulastiel smiled then turned to Thranduil. His eyes swept over her clothing and narrowed in disdain – she would have sworn a soft sight of disapproval escaped his lips, but he remained silent. Together, the party turned from the chambers and found the two horses waiting to carry Erulastiel and Thranduil to Mirkwood.

Erulastiel stepped forward to her horse – but it was not hers. Her horse, her companion through many dangers, was silver as the nighttime stars, with a mane that cut a streak of black through his hair. This horse was dark as the night sky without starlight. She turned to face her parents.

"Where is Gilroch?" she asked.

The voice that responded was deep and annoyed.

"I thought it best to travel with fresh horses. Considering you rode your Gilroch leagues from the borders only yesterday, it was fitting that new mounts be provided," Thranduil stated from just behind her.

She could feel his breath on her neck as he continued, his voice somewhat softer and less arrogant.

"Daeroch knows the forest paths of Mirkwood like no other horse. You will be better suited on his back."

Erulastiel turned to face him, her eyes blazing with indignation. He only stared back with challenging gaze, daring her to start an argument now, as they prepared to leave her homeland. She quickly regained her composure and nodded.

"Very well," she said stiffly.

She turned to mount Daeroch, a horse black as the shadows. A slight movement from Thranduil caught her eye. The Elvenking bowed on one knee before her, his hands clasped together in an effort to aid her in mounting the great horse. She laughed slightly, and then easily hopped onto Daeroch's back. Thranduil rose slowly, looking at her curiously, before turning to his own horse, a stallion white and pure as the sunlight.

"I am not so small as you think, Elvenking," she called as he circled his horse around the small yard, preparing for their swift journey ahead.

"Oh, but you are, little one. You are so small, yet so powerful – but you cannot see," he responded, urging his horse away from the yard and forcing it into a gallop ahead of her.

Erulastiel turned to her parents for a final glance.

"I shall return within the month," she said, struggling to keep her voice from breaking.

Galadriel and Celeborn nodded, and her father gestured toward the white stallion galloping quickly away from them. Erulastiel bowed her head, and then urged her horse forward. She sped away from her parents and homeland, keeping her eyes locked on the white horse and golden rider riding at breakneck speed in front of her gaze. Her eyes clouded over. She did not look back.