Repost of chapter ten!
At dawn the next morning, Tirnel woke to a cacophony of birdsong. She felt as refreshed as if she had slept for a week, and she hoped that all her nights could be this restful. Her bed in Mirkwood was soft, but she had long since outgrown it, and seeing as she barely slept anyway, she had seen no need to replace it.
Getting out of bed was difficult, for it was the perfect temperature and Tirnel had barely any desire to leave it. But before she could shake herself into action, a knock sounded at her door.
"Come in," she managed, sitting up and trying to fix her hair.
Iowen opened the door, bearing a stack of clothes like the day before. "Hello, my lady! Uirwen will meet you after breakfast to train, so I brought you a spare tunic and some breeches. Your boots were mended, and I'll show you where to eat after you are clean and dressed."
Tirnel sighed. "Can Uirwen be stalled? These blankets have accepted me as one of them. If I leave, I'll lose their trust." Iowen shook her head and entered the bathroom. Tirnel heard running water and stood, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders.
Iowen had filled the tub and set the new clothes on a chair, and was setting out a new towel as Tirnel came in. "I'll meet you out on the stairs in ten minutes," she said as she left.
Tirnel nodded. Her head was still fuzzy from sleep, but she had the wherewithal to remove her dress and undergarments before falling into the water. She woke up immediately, though, as she realized that the water was freezing cold.
Iowen, standing just outside the door, started and giggled as Tirnel's cry of shock reached her ears. She quickly left the flet and stood on the stairs, waiting for Tirnel to finish.
Tirnel had learned to swear when Radagast was dealing with a sick doe. He had cursed nearly constantly through the entire healing process. She had continued to listen for these words that slipped into his speech, like the time Sebastian the hedgehog was ill. He had sworn too, as spiders covered the walls: the same massive spiders that had killed Laergulwen.
Now Tirnel was cursing under her breath as she washed with the frigid water. "Damn you, Iowen," she hissed. Washing her hair was the hardest, as it stayed freezing cold on her back. She finished as fast as possible, then climbed out of the tub. Wrapping herself in her towel, she squeezed the excess water from her hair and reached for her clothes.
The tunic was grey, and Tirnel, remembering Nemirdir's cloak, noticed that it was the same colour. It was light and comfortable, and the breeches, being a fawn-brown, were well-fit when laced up. Her boots, having been mended expertly, were more comfortable than ever.
She was about to leave her flet, but Iowen pushed her back inside. "Not with that hair, you don't," she said. She shoved Tirnel to the small vanity table and pulled a brush and comb out of her dress.
Five minutes later, the two of them were walking down the stairs to the breakfast hall. "Stop fussing with it," Iowen said. She swatted the younger elf's hands away from the neat braids. "You'll mess up all the work I've done"
"It pulls in an uncomfortable way," Tirnel muttered.
"Stop anyway."
Tirnel dropped her hands from the elaborate braids. "They'll get mussed from my training anyway. What's the point of keeping it nice?" she grumbled.
"So that you'll appear presentable and so that the others will accept you without question. You look like a native of Lórien, and coming from Mirkwood, you're lucky if anyone accepts you besides me and the Galadhrim." Iowen sped up, wincing at her rash words.
"What are you talking about?" Tirnel asked. Her face had fallen, and she looked apprehensive. "Tell me," she pressed, taking hold of Iowen's arm.
Iowen pulled her arm away and didn't meet Tirnel's eyes. "Things between elves of Lothlórien and those of Mirkwood have not been good lately. Recently, a patrol of Mirkwood elves strayed into Lórien and were not pleased about it. Many of the elves here were on the edge of revolt, for though we in Lórien do not eat meat, our kin in Greenwood do, and the Mirkwood elves insisted upon eating deer that they killed around our borders. Some elves refused to sit anywhere near them, or to talk to them at all.
"I suggest you keep your identity and origin to yourself until the others are a little more comfortable with you." Iowen turned away as Tirnel dropped her arm. "Come now. We'll be late for breakfast if you don't hurry."
The stairs seemed to melt away as Tirnel followed Iowen. She didn't even want to go to breakfast, seeing as her stomach was full of snakes. But not the little garter snakes that she had played with for most of her childhood: These felt more like the poison ones that Radagast always dealt with. They had always hissed at her, sending her sprinting back to Radagast's side.
Shaking off the memory, Tirnel realised that Iowen had stopped outside a set of doors. "Here are the halls," Iowen said. Peering into Tirnel's downcast eyes, she placed a finger under the elfling's chin and raised her head. "Don't be afraid. I'll take you to sit with my friends. They'd like to meet you."
Tirnel took a deep breath. "Okay," she said. "I suppose I'm ready. Can you introduce me?"
Iowen smiled in a motherly sort of way, then hugged the younger elf. Tirnel looked shocked but returned the gesture. "Of course. I'll say you're from Imladris. Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel are on good terms with the Lord Elrond, and so are we." The doors opened and Uirwen stood there, an apple in one hand and a hunting knife in the other.
"Where have you been, Hallothneth? I expected you at least a half hour ago." She bit into the apple and sheathed the knife.
"Running late. I'm sorry," Tirnel muttered.
"Well, get in there and grab something, then come straight to the fields."
Tirnel's eyes widened. "Can't I stop by my flet and get my sword?"
Uirwen shook her head. "We're working with the bow first today. I'll see you on the fields in ten minutes."
Tirnel followed Iowen into the hall, and nodded as the handmaiden pointed out where to get food. She walked over and took a pear from a pile of fruit, then was heading for the door again when Iowen grabbed her arm.
"Oh, do stay a while, mellon nîn. Uirwen isn't Marchwarden; she can't scare me," Iowen said. She pulled Tirnel over to a table on the edge of the hall that was surrounded by handmaidens.
"Come now, Iowen," one woman chided sitting at a nearby table. "If the new recruit needs to go train, we can't hold her up!"
Iowen scowled at the speaker. "I am simply being social, Raenil. More than than you ever are."
The woman called Raenil smiled coldly. "I do not want to keep our brave new guardian away from vital training, my dear Iowen, as you have certainly kept her with your silly braiding."
Tirnel instantly and silently vowed never to complain about Iowen's braiding again.
Iowen scoffed and turned to face Tirnel, who could see the hurt under a thick layer of defiance. Anger flared in her chest as she pushed Iowen to one side.
The smug grin slid from Raenil's face as Tirnel approached. The fire in her gold eyes was quite terrifying, but the older elf stood her ground. "Why do you antagonise her? She has done nothing to you, and anyone can see you're just jealous of how well she can braid."
Raenil laughed. "On the contrary, little one, I find her work to be shabby and childish. For example, I can see you let her experiment on your own hair. Come, child, I'll fix it."
Before Tirnel could move, two of the other elves had swept her over to Raenil's side of the table and sat her down in a chair. Raenil herself was holding a brush in one hand, and the other was clutching Tirnel's shoulder as she gazed harshly at Iowen.
"Now, my little friend, what's your name?" Raenil said, brushing out the braids that Iowen had so meticulously woven with an expression of distaste on her face.
Tirnel was looking uneasily at the faces of the elves surrounding her, looking for Iowen. "Hallothneth," she said finally. Iowen was trying to pass the elves in front of her, but they pushed her back.
"Beautiful name for a beautiful girl." Raenil had finished undoing the braids from Tirnel's hair and was brushing it out now. "What are you parents' names? I might know them."
Iowen's eyes widened. Tirnel had told her that she was an orphan the night before, when Iowen had asked a very similar question.
"My parents are dead," Tirnel said simply.
Raenil's fingers didn't stop combing through Tirnel's hair, but her voice dropped into a tone dripping with so much honey that it would make a bee jealous. "Oh, Hallothneth. I'm so sorry, how could I have known?"
Tirnel's shoulders tightened slightly. "It's alright."
Raenil started to braid Tirnel's hair with the fluidity of a stream in the sunlight. "I find gîn bain, my dear," Raenil said, twisting the strands together. "This dark brown mixed with gold? Where do you hail, to gain such beautiful colours?"
"Greenwood the Great." The forest's name had slipped from Tirnel's lips before she could stop it. Raenil's sickly-sweet voice and her own lingering exhaustion had placed her into a sort of half-asleep state in which she wasn't in complete control.
Gasps sprang from the other elves around them as Raenil's fingers froze in the younger elf's hair. "What?"
Tirnel snapped out of the sleepy place and sat up straighter. She couldn't back down from her word now.
Elves at other tables turned at the mention of the accursed forest and whispers filled the hall.
Tirnel swallowed nervously; her mouth had gone all dry. "You heard me. The Greenwood."
"Mirkwood." The whisper swept the hall again.
"Avof nathlad 'werth min daur vîn," Raenil snarled, all honey gone now.
Noises of agreement came from all sides as Raenil shoved Tirnel off of the chair. "But did you not see how she defended me, an elf from Lórien whom she didn't know until yesterday? She stood up for me, and she is not a traitor!" Iowen cried, pushing through the crowd to Tirnel's side. "In fact, she has killed only spiders for survival. She is the most kind elf you'll ever meet. She is laying her life on the line for you: people she's never met before in her life, people who are judging her based on her home. You're the traitors." With that, she stalked off, Tirnel in her wake.
"Thank you, mellon nîn," Tirnel muttered, combing Raenil's braids out with her fingers as they walked.
"Thank you, Hallothneth. That Raenil thinks a lot of herself, and her braids aren't even any good! It has been on my mind to stand up to her, but I never have the confidence."
Tirnel and Iowen approached the field where Uirwen was waiting. "What took you so long?" The lieutenant snapped.
"We were unavoidably detained," Iowen said haughtily.
"Well, free up your schedule. We have a lot do, and barely enough time to do it in." Uirwen tossed Tirnel the bow she had used yesterday and a quiver of arrows. "That target over there. Let's go."
Tirnel waved to Iowen and hurried to catch up with Uirwen. "So, Uirwen, I told Haldir this, but I have shot barely once in my life."
"Well, it looks like you'll be learning in a hurry. Now, show me your best shot."
Tirnel extracted a red-feathered arrow from her quiver and nocked it to the bowstring, then pulled into full draw. Uirwen watched as the arrow thunked into the second ring of the target.
"Not bad. Try bringing this arm up a little. Might get a ten, if there's no wind." Another shot: Closer, but not right on target. "Good. Keep trying, while I get your knives."
Uirwen walked off as Tirnel raised the bow. The arrow hit dead center. Uirwen returned as Tirnel walked up to the target. "I hit the center!" Tirnel said happily.
"Good! Take these." Uirwen handed Tirnel a pair of knives. "I think it best if you carry these at all times, in addition to your sword. These are better in close-contact, like for an unsavory suitor." Uirwen grinned. "But here you go. Let's see how you do."
Tirnel took the knives from the leather sheathes and spun them in her hands. She dropped it and she looked to Uirwen, grinning sheepishly.
The lieutenant smiled. "Here. This is how you should hold them." She positioned the younger elf's fingers on the redwood handle, then took her wrist in one hand. A dummy sat nearby, and Uirwen led Tirnel to it. "Look. When your knife is here, the other should be back, in case this one is lost to your enemy." Uirwen guided Tirnel's hands towards the neck of the dummy. "Cut here first to bring him down quick, and here to make his spine stop working." Tirnel moved her knives at Uirwen's direction, and hay fell out of the cuts that she made. "Good! Now, here's how to gut someone." Uirwen brought up Tirnel's knives in a straight line up the dummy's torso. "You won't need to do that usually; but it's good for when they won't stay down."
Tirnel nodded, then performed the maneuvers again, this time at full speed. Her gutting blow knocked the head off the dummy, and she looked up at Uirwen.
"Agoreg vê, Hallothneth," Uiwen said. "I am very impressed. Now, run off and get your sword and I'll try to oppose you," Uirwen said. She drew the blade from the sheath at her side as Tirnel ran towards the mallorn tree that held her flet. The girl was an exceptional fighter, and she had the eyes of a warrior. Uirwen kicked the head of the dummy and watched the straw fly into the air. Hallothneth would surely be a valuable addition to the Galadhrim.
Soon Tirnel returned, a black leather sheath buckled to her side and silver hilt protruding from it. "Got it," she called. She wiped a bit of blood off of her hands as she approached.
"What's that on your hands?" Uirwen asked, eyes narrowing. Rumors had reached her that Raenil was becoming crueler. Hallothneth might have fallen victim to an attack from the older elf. Uirwen had never been able to prove that Raenil was physically attacking other elves, but she had her suspicions.
"Nothing. Well, not nothing. It's blood." Tirnel wiped the last of it off and unsheathed her sword.
"Whose blood? Yours? Did Raenil attack you?" Uirwen was taking Tirnel's hands in her own, turning them over and examining the streaks of blood that still stained them.
"Not mine, and she didn't attack me. She attacked my friend, Iowen. I'd promised her I wouldn't tell anyone, because she said that Raenil would only do it again. I helped her clean herself up, then got my sword and came down here."
Uirwen shook her head, scowling fiercely. "I knew it. I knew Raenil was attacking elves. I've just never been able to prove it, because victims are too scared to speak out. Hallothneth, has she made any particular advances at you?"
Tirnel dropped her head. "I don't think she'll attack me," she said quietly.
"She probably will. If you don't join her little club, she'll probably try to ostracize you. If you continue to go against her, she will most likely attack."
"No, she won't." Tirnel's face fell. "She and the rest of the elves who were at breakfast are now either terrified of me or too disgusted to approach me."
Uirwen dropped Tirnel's hands. "What do you mean?"
Tirnel looked up, straight into Uirwen's eyes. "Can I trust you?"
Uirwen was bewildered. "Of course! If it is something unsavory from your past, I won't judge you on it. I will judge you on how you will perform here. But if it is something on which I must act, I will act."
Tirnel grimaced. "I'm not from Imladris; I'm from Mirkwood."
When Uirwen didn't reply, she looked up to see the lieutenant of the Galadhrim looking thoroughly confused. "...And why are the elves disgusted or scared of you?"
Tirnel shook her head. "Didn't you hear me? I said I'm from Mirkwood! The most dark and festered elf-kingdom in Middle-earth! My relatives are fierce, unwise, killers and evil sorceresses! I am the spawn of horrible evil people, Uirwen, and that does not trouble you?"
Uirwen smiled. "I do not believe that you are an evil person, Hallothneth. You are different. You are a dangerous fighter, and I admire that, but do not let the past define you."
Tirnel felt she could have sobbed in relief. "Thank you. I was afraid that you would remove me from the Galadhrim."
"Of course not! We need your ferocity in our ranks to protect our lands." Uirwen smiled. "You'll be a better fighter than a few of the lads."
Tirnel laughed. Uirwen, sensing an opportunity for a lesson, swung her sword up at Tirnel's face.
The younger elf yelped and pulled back, raising her sword up to defend her face and staring at Uirwen.
The lieutenant smirked and took a step back, as did her opponent, and both bowed to indicate the battle's beginning. Tirnel attacked first, sword held at the ready.
The swords met with a clash. The impact was good, and neither elf was off-balance as they returned to a waiting stance.
"You fight well, little warrior. I understand why the Lady recommended you." Uirwen bowed her head slightly in respect, not taking her eyes from Tirnel's.
"Thank you, Uirwen. I'm honoured to be able to defend my new homeland." Uirwen swung her sword, aiming for Tirnel's legs, but the younger elf leapt over the sweeping blade.
Tirnel dodged as Uirwen raised her sword again, ready for more. The lieutenant blew a strand of hair out her face and smiled. "Talent, indeed. It will be interesting to see Haldir compete against you."
The sparring match continued, Uirwen's blade sometimes only just missing Tirnel. Tirnel was not afraid of the sword, though, and met it with her own. Tirnel felt as though an age had passed at one point, as the two of them circled each other. A few elves had entered the field to practice, and most of them congregated around the two.
Shouts of "Go, Uirwen!" came from the spectators, and a few cheers for the recruit. But Uirwen ignored them, as did Tirnel, both intensely focused on their fight.
"Anywhere near giving up yet, Uirwen?" Tirnel hissed. Her eyes were lit with golden fire, and she showed no signs of tiring.
"I'd never hear the end of it if I let a recruit beat me," snarled Uirwen. She was in awe of the skills Tirnel had, but tried not to show it as the duel progressed.
After the two had fought for a quarter of an hour or so, Tirnel began to get frustrated. She scooped up a handful of dirt and threw it at Uirwen.
"Fighting dirty, now, aren't we?" Uirwen said. She too scooped up some dirt and threw it at Tirnel, who dodged the cloud of dust.
"I deemed it prudent," the younger elf replied cheekily. "This duel is overlong, so I tried to shorten it."
"I can help you there," Uirwen said. She lunged at Tirnel, preparing to stab, but stumbled as her opponent leapt aside. Before she knew it, Tirnel's blade was at her throat.
The circle of watching elves cheered and laughed as Uirwen slowly stood, Tirnel slightly behind her, blade still ready. It looked like Uirwen was about to surrender, but just as Tirnel was preparing to lower her sword, Uirwen caught her wrist in an iron grip and flipped her over one shoulder. The spectating elves scrambled back, watching as Tirnel rolled over, pushing herself up onto all fours. Uirwen snatched the handle of the younger elf's sword and threw it away, narrowly missing another elf.
Tirnel spat dirt and hair out of her mouth, eyes narrowed and fixed on Uirwen, who was smiling in a smug way. "Not all fights are by your rules, Hallothneth."
Tirnel didn't answer. Her face was hot, and the dirt was sticking to it. Swiping a hand quickly across her scarlet cheeks, she crouched low to the ground and leveled a stare that could've burned wood at Uirwen.
Uirwen laughed. "Calm down, little one! Can't have you overheating on your first-" Just like Haldir, Uirwen found herself on her back in the dirt. The watching elves had jumped back to avoid being fallen upon, and now swarmed closer to help the lieutenant sit up. Tirnel was casually dusting herself off, picking leaves from her hair, and didn't approach her opponent.
"Why, Uirwen! You're covered in dust. Did you fall, mellon nîn? Maybe you should change your tunic." A smile was curling Tirnel's lip, and she didn't look the least bit sorry for her actions. She had picked up and sheathed her sword, and now kicked Uirwen's back to her.
"It's nearly time to eat," an elf said. Uirwen stood, brushing herself off. She picked up her sword and buckled it to her side, then bowed her head to Tirnel.
"I won't say that you've beaten me," Uirwen said. "But you did do a good job. Now come and eat. Or, perhaps not," she added, looking down at her filthy tunic. "Go change and stow your weapon, then meet me in the dining hall."
Tirnel nodded and left the field, head buzzing. She had drawn with the lieutenant of the Galadhrim! She had proved herself, and Uirwen didn't shun her because she was a wood-elf. Reaching the foot of the stairs, Tirnel suddenly and vividly recalled what she had seen when she retrieved her sword that morning.
The door was open slightly, which was unusual. Tirnel pushed it open further and heard a noise from the bathroom. She crept towards it, snatching up her sword from the bed. Stretching one hand out before her, Tirnel opened the door and came face-to-face with Iowen.
The handmaiden looked horrible. She was bleeding from a gash on her arm and her dress was torn in several places. Her face was streaked with tears, and her hair was loose from its usually-elegant braids. When Tirnel entered the room, she had stood up from the chair next to the bath, where pink-tinted water steamed gently.
"Oh, Iowen! What happened to you?" Tirnel cried, placing an arm around the older elf's shoulders.
"It was Raenil. After I left you at the fields, I returned here only to find Raenil waiting with a few of her friends. She was unarmed, but she keeps her nails long, which is how this happened. I didn't think it was that deep, but it kept bleeding until I washed it.
"Her friends did this to my dress, pulling at it until I thought they meant to undress me and take it with them. They were quick and effective, they left only five minutes ago."
"I'll go and pay them back for this," Tirnel snarled. She stood, but Iowen clutched her hand, staining it with blood.
"Don't go. If you want to help me, you can help bind this cut. I don't want to bleed out."
Tirnel sat reluctantly, and wrapped pieces of linen around Iowen's arm. "It wouldn't take me long to teach them a lesson," she pleaded.
"No. You have to go back to Uirwen." Iowen winced as Tirnel pulled the bandage tight and tied it off.
Tirnel scowled, but stood and turned to leave. "Hide, if she returns. Then, when she's gone, go straight to Lady Galadriel. Don't argue," she said, putting up a hand as Iowen opened her mouth. "Just do it. You'll be safer."
Iowen had agreed, and now Tirnel's heart beat faster as she ascended the stairs to her flet. She jogged up the stairs, reaching the door to find Iowen sitting on the bed in a new dress, mending the old one, which had been cleaned of bloodstains. "Iowen! Did Raenil return? Are you alright?"
Iowen looked up and smiled. "No, she didn't come back. I assume your training session went well?"
Tirnel looked down at the dirt all over her tunic, then laughed. "Indeed it did! I bested Uirwen in armed combat though she was quite good at unarmed combat, and now I'm to change to eat with her."
Iowen clapped her hands. "I would deem that a success! Now, how about a dress for-"
"No. But I will let you braid my hair before I leave again," Tirnel said, unbuttoning the front of her tunic and reaching into the wardrobe for a green one. She retreated into the bathroom and exited a minute later, the dirty grey one draped over her arm. Iowen was standing by the bed, waiting.
Tirnel sat and looked out the window as Iowen brushed the leaves and dirt out of her hair and began to braid it.
"I think you made a good impression, besides Raenil's blurting out that you're from Mirkwood," Iowen commented, tying off the last braid with a bit of string.
Tirnel stood. "Did I? I still feel as though I am an outsider."
"That's normal. They only met you this morning, after all. Give them time."
The two elves left the flet, Tirnel grabbing her sword as an afterthought. "I really don't trust Raenil, and if she can get into the flet, I'm taking no chances."
The dining hall was crowded with elves, all sitting at tables around the edges like at breakfast, or getting food from the center.
"Hi, Hallothneth! We're over here!" Uirwen's call reached Tirnel's ears, and she turned to see the lieutenant and the rest of the off-duty Galadhrim sitting around several tables in the back of the hall.
Tirnel raised a hand in greeting, then gathered some food. "Iowen, come on. Uirwen wants to catch Raenil just as much as us. Come tell her what happened."
Iowen nodded, then glanced over Tirnel's shoulder and paled. "It's her," she hissed.
Raenil sat against the left wall, surrounded as she had been earlier by her accomplices. She sneered at Tirnel and Iowen, both of whom shivered slightly.
"Come on," Tirnel muttered. She and Iowen hurried to Uirwen's table, where the lieutenant sat, relaxing with her fellow soldiers.
"Ah, look, faithful soldiers! The newest addition to our ranks. Come, Hallothneth, join me. And, if I am not mistaken, your name is Iowen?" Uirwen inquired, smiling at the nervous handmaiden.
Iowen nodded. "Yes, it is. I was told that you have reason to believe that Raenil is attacking other elves. I have been attacked, and I want her stopped."
Uirwen sat up quickly, nearly unseating the elf beside her. "Sorry, Laegon. Yes, Iowen, I want her stopped too. Can you please tell me more?"
Tirnel found a chair and placed it across from the lieutenant, gesturing for Iowen to sit. She did, twisting her hands in her lap and throwing a glance over her shoulder at Raenil. "You have nothing to fear here," Tirnel whispered. "We're surrounded by the best warriors of Lórien here. If Raenil tries to start anything, she'll be on her back in a second." She winced. "That didn't come out quite right. But rest assured, you're safe here." Iowen smiled, then began her tale.
By the time she had finished, all the other elves at the table were listening in. A few had turned to stare at Raenil, who waved flirtily back. One of the Galadhrim wrinkled his nose in disgust, then turned back to Iowen and Uirwen. Another elf stood, hand clutching his sword-hilt. "Uirwen, this is horrible to listen to and even worse to ignore. May I go and arrest her?"
"No, Helegon. Let Iowen finish her tale, then I will take care of her." Uirwen reached over the table and clasped Iowen's hands in her own, freeing them from the twisted skirt of her dress.
Helegon's knuckles whitened on the hilt, but he finally released it and sat next to Iowen. She glanced over, cheeks flushing slightly. Helegon gave her shoulder a squeeze, then faced Uirwen again.
"Are you sure that's all?" Uirwen asked gently.
"Yes. Now, please, go and arrest her before I do it myself!" Iowen hissed, glancing quickly behind her again. Helegon stood and Uirwen followed suit, both of them glaring now at Raenil.
Raenil, however, was already standing up to leave. "Oh, no you don't," Uirwen growled. "Raenil!" she called, making all the other elves in the hall go silent. "You are under arrest for physically attacking one of your own kin!"
Raenil turned and sprinted for the door, shoving other elves out of her way. Helegon sprinted ahead and caught her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back. The captured elf squirmed around and started to claw at Helegon's arms and face. "Uirwen, bind her!" Helegon yelled, eyes screwed up in pain as Raenil continued to claw at him.
Uirwen caught the struggling elf by the legs, and together, she and Helegon carried the screaming elf from the hall. Iowen sat still, her face still pale from shock. A few elves got up and patted her on the back, thanking her for taking care of Raenil, but one of them whispered into her ear, "We know where you live, sneak. We who remain will come for you."
Iowen went paler, looking up at one of Raenil's friends who was smiling smugly. Tirnel frowned. "Go after your friend, and leave us," she snapped, placing a hand on Iowen's shoulder.
The elf sneered briefly and left, bringing Raenil's other followers with her. Iowen shuddered, standing next to Tirnel and looking at the floor.
"Hey," Tirnel said gently, shaking Iowen's shoulder. She placed a hand on the other elf's cheek and lifted her face up. "Do those elves know where you sleep?"
Iowen nodded. Her face paled even more, if such a thing were possible, then put her head in her hands.
"Hey," Tirnel said again. "Sleep in my flet tonight. I don't want to lose you as a friend, or for you to be killed by your own kin." Tirnel raised a hand as Iowen protested, adding "I want to spend the night in full knowledge of your health. I would not have you injured if I can prevent it."
Waving away Iowen's shaky thanks, Tirnel smiled. "Let's go move your things to the flet. Can you walk?"
The two of them left the hall, a few elves murmuring softly as Iowen passed. The sun was shining through the mellyrn, creating a dappled green world beneath the leaves. Iowen led Tirnel to a tall tree, labeled in neat Sindarin, Handmaidens. Iowen began to climb the twisting stairs, Tirnel jogging along in her wake, and stopped about halfway up, before a door which bore a sign that had a beautifully lettered name: Iowen.
The door opened onto a cramped room containing a bed and wardrobe, and only a very small window. Iowen quickly gathered a few dresses and undergarments, stuffing them into a bag, then picked up a book.
"It belonged to my father," she said, smiling sadly. "I would protect it with my life."
Tirnel nodded solemnly, but felt a terrible pang of guilt. Iowen was being completely honest with her, and had been attacked for their friendship, but had still not left Tirnel's side. She deserved the truth.
Breathing deeply, she turned to Iowen, who was carefully packing the book into the bag. "Iowen." The elf turned, the book in her hands. "I am not Hallothneth. That is not my given name, and my parents are not dead. My father is King Thranduil. But my mother was killed by spiders. This is hers," she added, twirling the gold chain through her fingers. Then she blinked, and when she opened her eyes, Iowen was still packing the book. Tirnel hadn't spoken aloud. She sighed. She couldn't do it. Not yet.
This is like the longest chapter I've ever written. I just couldn't find a place to chop it.
I find gîn bain: Your hair is beautiful
Agoreg vê: That was good
Avof nathlad 'werth min daur vîn: We do not welcome traitors in our forest