Chapter Nine
Mirilas stood in front of her mirror, turning this way and that to examine her appearance. She would not be able to dance much at the feast; after all, she had barely been able to stand this morning! If she could not dance, she could not escape the many suitors that would vie for her attention. That had been one of the perks of her training in Lorien. She had been away from her suitors and so busy that she could hardly acquire new ones. And above all, a certain level of decorum was expected of her as princess of this kingdom. She would not shame her father over so simple a thing as her appearance.
Her gown was made of navy silks with silver detailing. The silver threads shone against the navy as they caught the light. The billowing sleeves of her gown opened to reveal her pale forearms. The open neckline swooped down to just above her breasts, revealing a hint of cleavage, and on her sternum rested an emerald pendant, a gift from her father. On her brow sat a little circlet of silver vines woven in with her silver hair. She looked perfect. She would not disappoint her father.
"Are you ready, my Lady?" Feren asked from beside the door.
"Yes," Mirilas said, turning away from the mirror and walking over to take her servant's hand.
"Remember, my Lady, you must not overexert yourself. You are still weak from the journey," Feren reminded his lady gently as he led her to the Hall.
"I know, Feren," Mirilas said in resignation.
"The alcove is prepared, if you need to rest," Feren reminded her.
"Good, thank you," Mirilas said with a nod.
"Do not worry, my Lady," Feren reassured her, knowing what that tone meant his lady was feeling. "You look beautiful. Your father will be proud of you."
"Thank you, Feren," Mirilas said gratefully, pausing around the corner from the hall to gather herself.
A couple seconds later, Mirilas sighed before drawing herself to her full, though rather diminutive for an elf, height. She nodded her head and resumed her walk to the Hall.
The Hall was already busy with the many subjects of the Woodland Realm, all dressed in their feast clothes. The Hall itself was draped with vines of ivy and a variety of flowering vines, all in shades of red, orange, and yellow as their leaves prepared to fall. Her brother was already being mobbed by elleths attempting to attract his attention in the hopes of marrying him. Her father sat on his throne, goblet of wine in hand as he surveyed the happiness of his people.
As their subjects started to notice her presence, a number of ellon approached her to welcome her and ask for a dance. Mirilas sighed before beginning to greet them with a smile, as was expected of her.
Three dances in a row later, Legolas stepped in, saving her from the mobs before they tired her out. Thankfully, the elleths followed him to her and began to interact with her crowd of followers, freeing the siblings from their crowds of admirers.
"Anira na si?" (Do you want to stay?) Legolas asked, supporting his sister as she sagged against him tiredly.
"Uar," (No,) Mirilas replied, shaking her head slowly. If she were to stay, she would be asked to dance again, which she would tire her out too quickly.
Legolas nodded, half-carrying her out of the Hall to a nearby alcove in the corridor. Feren stood waiting and, upon seeing the siblings, hurried over to swoop his lady up into his arms and lay her on the cushioned ledge behind him.
"Togin le samello lin?" (Should I take you to your chamber, my Lady?) Feren asked as she slumped into the cushions with an exhausted sigh.
"Uar," (No) Legolas declined, "Togathon ten." (I'll take her) It was both a relief and a pleasure to look after his sister in these circumstances. She needed help, which he was more than happy to give. This had the added benefit of keeping him from the throng of eager, young elleths vying for his attention to gain further social standing. The only elleths whose company he truly enjoyed were his sister and Tauriel.
Feren bowed and left as Legolas carefully picked up his sister and began the walk to her chamber. The servant took a different, longer path to his lady's room. He would not leave her alone this night, not when that hobbit was in her room. No matter how harmless he had seemed, Feren would not shirk his duty to his lady.
"Legolas, who were the dwarves you found in the forest?" Mirilas asked after several seconds of silence punctuated only by her brother's soft, elven footsteps. The sound reminded her that Feren was uncharacteristically loud when he walked for an elf, though she was sure he was not a halfbreed.
Legolas frowned at his sister's interest in the dwarves. They were a rough, uncouth people that he thought should not be around his sister at the very least while she was so weak. "We found them in the spiders' nest," he began, hesitating before telling her more. "They mean to reclaim the Mountain."
Mirilas sighed as she considered this. Erebor had been taken over a hundred years ago by Smaug, and days later she had been sent to Lothlorien. She knew the two events were connected, as was the time in her childhood when a dragon had taken her from where she and her brother were playing in the forest to its lair in the Grey Mountains far to the north. She knew it had been hard for her father to travel past Gundabad, where her mother had died, to save her from the dragon, yet he had done it for her and lost half his face that same day. She had been trying to be useful to him ever since, refusing to let his sacrifice that day be a waste.
That same injury had allowed Celon to kill the beast. That injury had been how they had discovered that her ability was, in fact, magic. In a single touch, she had healed the horrible burn on her father's face to a scar and hidden the scar with a glamour. Maybe her father thought that dragons could sense her power? Did they consider her a threat? Or treasure for them to hoard? Was that why he had sent her away when another dragon showed itself?
"Father will not let them return to the Mountain, will he?" Mirilas asked. She knew her father well enough to know he would not risk his realm or his wine supply from Lake Town by waking the dragon.
"No, he will not," Legolas said, sounding as if he did not agree with the decision, either, no matter how he personally felt about dwarves. "They did trespass," Legolas said as though trying to reason out their father's decision.
"Yes, but that may have been because of the spiders," Mirilas reminded him.
Legolas nodded and sighed. "His animosity toward dwarves has grown," he acknowledged.
"That cannot be the only reason for his decision," Mirilas disagreed, closing her eyes as she tried to think of any other reason he would not allow the dwarves to continue their journey. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open as she remembered when her father had taken her to Erebor to pay homage to King Thror. "The necklace," she whispered.
"What necklace?" Legolas asked curiously.
"The necklace! Grandmother's necklace!" she said in realization. "When we visited Erebor, Thror showed Ada a necklace but would not give it to him. That must be Grandmother's necklace!"
"It would still be in the Mountain," Legolas said, catching on to his sister's train of thought.
"Could he not offer to help the dwarves in exchange for the necklace?" Mirilas asked, confused at why the dwarves were still imprisoned if this was true.
"But how would the dwarves kill a dragon?" Legolas asked.
"Celon did. He killed the wyrm from the Grey Mountains," Mirilas reminded him.
"He killed it?!" Legolas exclaimed in surprise.
"Yes. What did you think happened?" Mirilas confirmed.
"Ada only said that it would not be a threat anymore..." Legolas said. "I thought he had wounded it, or made a deal with it, or forced it to flee...How did they manage it?!"
"Nenar pried a scale loose while the dragon was focused on Ada. Celon killed it. He used a sword from the dragon's trove that turned to ice as it pierced the dragon's hide," Mirilas said, remembering the events from her childhood.
"It must have been a magic sword. It would not have pierced the dragon's hide any other way," Legolas speculated.
"It turning to ice was not enough of a hint for you?" Mirilas asked with surprising acidity in her tone.
Legolas stopped short. "What is it, Mirilas?" he asked. His sister rarely got like this, but when she did, there was always a reason.
"It is nothing..." Mirilas said dismissively, hoping her brother would drop the subject.
"No, it is not," Legolas said firmly. "I know you, Sister."
Mirilas sighed and said with pain and guilt in her voice, "That is how Ada was injured...The wyrm nearly killed him..."
"You cannot blame yourself for that, Miri," Legolas said urgently.
"Why not? If not for me, he would be-"
"Stop," her brother commanded firmly. "Without you, Ada would not be how he is today. You are all that has kept his heart from hardening without Naneth." (Mother)
Mirilas sighed but said in a voice that told him that she had bowed to his superior wisdom in this matter, "I can make it the rest of the way."
Legolas gently set his sister on the floor before hugging her firmly. "Maer fuin, Nethig," (Good night, Sister) he said softly. There would be no fighting her on this. She had deferred to him, and now it was his turn.
"Maer fuin, hanar nin," (Good night, my brother) she returned as she extricated herself from her brother's arms and started walking to her quarters.
Legolas sighed and walked back to the feast.
