RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: The characters from Lord of the Rings and their wonderful world are borrowed from J.R.R. Tolkien. The plotline and all other characters are copyright 2002 Emily (emi_kins@yahoo.com)
11.
Scarcely a week had passed since the celebration of Elenath's return to Mirkwood. A week spent in learning about the new world around her, taking moonlit walks with her mother and father, and starlit walks with Prince Legolas. She began to learn the Elven arts of war and to teach Thorondil a few things about Jujitsu. And she watched the Prince; indeed she could not take her eyes off of him. It did not matter if he was in council with his father and his advisors, singing merry songs with his friends, helping with everyday Palace tasks, taking his own lessons with Thorondil, or simply resting beneath a tree. He was exquisite… beautiful in spirit and in body. Often she would wake in the middle of the night to hear him singing to her, though he always remained out of sight. He sang of the love they had shared, the places they had been, and the sweet passionate secrets they had learned in one another's arms. Though her mind remembered none of it, she knew that her spirit must. For whenever he came near, her heart warmed. When he was away, she longed for him and especially for his sweet kisses, which he gave in plenty whenever they found a moment by themselves.
"My Beloved," he called her, "My Love, My Beautiful Princess, My Life…" The passion in his eyes was unmistakable, yet each night he left her at the door to her room with a gentle kiss and the same request, "Seek me out when you wake, my love. I shall count the moments until I see you again."
A mere week it had been since she first saw him, yet she could not imagine her life without him. Her prince, her beloved, her life. She laughed as she walked through the wood that morning thinking of the looks on the King's advisors' faces yesterday when Legolas left them mid-sentence to present her with a particularly lovely wildflower. He had whispered something outrageous in her ear before taking his leave and she had blushed. What had he called her? Oh, yes. "Lothamin; My Flower." He had whispered, "I could not have created one more perfect than you, Lothamin," as he let his eyes roam over her body. She blushed again just thinking about it.
Her life in Mirkwood was like a wonderful dream. Only one thing ever troubled her and that was her confusion regarding her faith. It was this confusion that had woken her this morning and driven her out of the safe haven of Thranduil's kingdom. She was beginning to come to terms with the fact that she was not human, not a descendent of Adam and Eve. Who then was she? What was her place in God's Kingdom? Did Jesus die for the Elves too, or were Elves beyond the need for such a sacrifice? The only thing she knew for sure in her heart was that God created everything and that He still reigned over all. She clung to that knowledge and often quoted the Psalmist who said, "Let everything that has breath praise the Lord."
"While I yet have breath," she sang, "I will praise the Lord…"
Her song was disrupted by the sound of hoof beats in the wood that grew rapidly nearer. She looked around and realized how far from home she was, but before she had time to even think about hiding, three Elven riders galloped by, followed by a fourth rider – a Man – who somehow managed to reach down and take hold of her as he raced past, hauling her up and slinging her over his saddle. Dirt kicked up by the horse's hoofs smacked her in the face as the trees streaked by.
"Let go of me!" she shrieked. "Who do you think you are?"
The rider said nothing but held onto her tightly so she would not fall. She struggled in his grip.
"Be still!" he commanded in a gruff voice.
For five minutes, she bounced around on the saddle, her ribs screaming their protest. Finally, he reined his horse sharply in the Palace courtyard, dismounted, and set Elenath gently on her feet.
She spun around in a rage, catching him across the face with a backhand that sent him reeling for a moment. Staggering back, he reached for her. "Stop! I-"
"Don't you touch me!" she shouted as a large group of Elves came running.
"But I-" he tried to reach for her again and she kicked him sharply in the shin.
"I'm warning you!"
Finally, he got the hint and stood back, staring at her.
She regarded him with a mixture of contempt and curiosity. His shoulder- length brown hair was a mess, one of his eyes already beginning to blacken from her strike. Unshaven and a little ragged, he appeared to be somewhere between the ages of twenty-five and thirty-five. It was hard to tell. He stood there with his hands up, staring at her.
"Stand down, Elenath," chuckled Legolas as he came up behind her. "Estel will not harm you."
"Elenath?" spoke the Man. "This is Elenath?" He stepped forward again but stopped dead at one glance from her.
"Don't even think about it," she said.
Estel chuckled. "If what Lord Elrond has told me is true, then she hasn't changed a bit, Prince Legolas."
The two shared a short embrace.
"What happened?" asked the Prince.
"We were being pursued by a band of orcs," he said, "And were almost to the safety of your realm when I saw this vision of beauty standing in the wood." He turned his attention to Elenath. "You should not wonder outside the borders of Northern Mirkwood alone or unarmed, My Lady. I could not just leave you there-"
"So you yanked me off the spot where I stood with no explanation or apology," she said. "Look, Estel, or whatever your name is, I don't know who you are or where you come from-"
He bowed. "Forgive me, Princess. My name is Aragorn, known to the Elves as Estel. I rode out three weeks ago from Rivendell under the authority of Lord Elrond."
"On what business?" she demanded.
"To bring you this." He held out a sword sheathed in a scabbard so ornate that she knew it must be worth more than her grandmother's whole house. Bedecked with stunning metalwork and precious stones, it glinted in the sun and seemed to whisper her name. It was almost like seeing a long lost friend. She reached out her hands to take it, but Legolas stopped her.
"Now is not the time, My Love. Trust me." He took the blade and put it carefully aside. "Estel, how did Elrond hear of the Princess' return?"
"Gandalf felt that she would soon come home. They sent me out from Rivendell at once, Prince Legolas. Princess Elenath is in grave danger and she must have her weapon at her side."
Legolas pulled her possessively nearer to himself, brushing his fingers lightly through her hair. "What do you mean?"
Estel sighed. "The orcs have learned of her return and have chosen a new leader. A great band of them pursued us to the edge of your kingdom. They cried her name in rage when they saw us, Legolas. They have only one thing on their mind, and that is revenge."
DISCLAIMER: The characters from Lord of the Rings and their wonderful world are borrowed from J.R.R. Tolkien. The plotline and all other characters are copyright 2002 Emily (emi_kins@yahoo.com)
11.
Scarcely a week had passed since the celebration of Elenath's return to Mirkwood. A week spent in learning about the new world around her, taking moonlit walks with her mother and father, and starlit walks with Prince Legolas. She began to learn the Elven arts of war and to teach Thorondil a few things about Jujitsu. And she watched the Prince; indeed she could not take her eyes off of him. It did not matter if he was in council with his father and his advisors, singing merry songs with his friends, helping with everyday Palace tasks, taking his own lessons with Thorondil, or simply resting beneath a tree. He was exquisite… beautiful in spirit and in body. Often she would wake in the middle of the night to hear him singing to her, though he always remained out of sight. He sang of the love they had shared, the places they had been, and the sweet passionate secrets they had learned in one another's arms. Though her mind remembered none of it, she knew that her spirit must. For whenever he came near, her heart warmed. When he was away, she longed for him and especially for his sweet kisses, which he gave in plenty whenever they found a moment by themselves.
"My Beloved," he called her, "My Love, My Beautiful Princess, My Life…" The passion in his eyes was unmistakable, yet each night he left her at the door to her room with a gentle kiss and the same request, "Seek me out when you wake, my love. I shall count the moments until I see you again."
A mere week it had been since she first saw him, yet she could not imagine her life without him. Her prince, her beloved, her life. She laughed as she walked through the wood that morning thinking of the looks on the King's advisors' faces yesterday when Legolas left them mid-sentence to present her with a particularly lovely wildflower. He had whispered something outrageous in her ear before taking his leave and she had blushed. What had he called her? Oh, yes. "Lothamin; My Flower." He had whispered, "I could not have created one more perfect than you, Lothamin," as he let his eyes roam over her body. She blushed again just thinking about it.
Her life in Mirkwood was like a wonderful dream. Only one thing ever troubled her and that was her confusion regarding her faith. It was this confusion that had woken her this morning and driven her out of the safe haven of Thranduil's kingdom. She was beginning to come to terms with the fact that she was not human, not a descendent of Adam and Eve. Who then was she? What was her place in God's Kingdom? Did Jesus die for the Elves too, or were Elves beyond the need for such a sacrifice? The only thing she knew for sure in her heart was that God created everything and that He still reigned over all. She clung to that knowledge and often quoted the Psalmist who said, "Let everything that has breath praise the Lord."
"While I yet have breath," she sang, "I will praise the Lord…"
Her song was disrupted by the sound of hoof beats in the wood that grew rapidly nearer. She looked around and realized how far from home she was, but before she had time to even think about hiding, three Elven riders galloped by, followed by a fourth rider – a Man – who somehow managed to reach down and take hold of her as he raced past, hauling her up and slinging her over his saddle. Dirt kicked up by the horse's hoofs smacked her in the face as the trees streaked by.
"Let go of me!" she shrieked. "Who do you think you are?"
The rider said nothing but held onto her tightly so she would not fall. She struggled in his grip.
"Be still!" he commanded in a gruff voice.
For five minutes, she bounced around on the saddle, her ribs screaming their protest. Finally, he reined his horse sharply in the Palace courtyard, dismounted, and set Elenath gently on her feet.
She spun around in a rage, catching him across the face with a backhand that sent him reeling for a moment. Staggering back, he reached for her. "Stop! I-"
"Don't you touch me!" she shouted as a large group of Elves came running.
"But I-" he tried to reach for her again and she kicked him sharply in the shin.
"I'm warning you!"
Finally, he got the hint and stood back, staring at her.
She regarded him with a mixture of contempt and curiosity. His shoulder- length brown hair was a mess, one of his eyes already beginning to blacken from her strike. Unshaven and a little ragged, he appeared to be somewhere between the ages of twenty-five and thirty-five. It was hard to tell. He stood there with his hands up, staring at her.
"Stand down, Elenath," chuckled Legolas as he came up behind her. "Estel will not harm you."
"Elenath?" spoke the Man. "This is Elenath?" He stepped forward again but stopped dead at one glance from her.
"Don't even think about it," she said.
Estel chuckled. "If what Lord Elrond has told me is true, then she hasn't changed a bit, Prince Legolas."
The two shared a short embrace.
"What happened?" asked the Prince.
"We were being pursued by a band of orcs," he said, "And were almost to the safety of your realm when I saw this vision of beauty standing in the wood." He turned his attention to Elenath. "You should not wonder outside the borders of Northern Mirkwood alone or unarmed, My Lady. I could not just leave you there-"
"So you yanked me off the spot where I stood with no explanation or apology," she said. "Look, Estel, or whatever your name is, I don't know who you are or where you come from-"
He bowed. "Forgive me, Princess. My name is Aragorn, known to the Elves as Estel. I rode out three weeks ago from Rivendell under the authority of Lord Elrond."
"On what business?" she demanded.
"To bring you this." He held out a sword sheathed in a scabbard so ornate that she knew it must be worth more than her grandmother's whole house. Bedecked with stunning metalwork and precious stones, it glinted in the sun and seemed to whisper her name. It was almost like seeing a long lost friend. She reached out her hands to take it, but Legolas stopped her.
"Now is not the time, My Love. Trust me." He took the blade and put it carefully aside. "Estel, how did Elrond hear of the Princess' return?"
"Gandalf felt that she would soon come home. They sent me out from Rivendell at once, Prince Legolas. Princess Elenath is in grave danger and she must have her weapon at her side."
Legolas pulled her possessively nearer to himself, brushing his fingers lightly through her hair. "What do you mean?"
Estel sighed. "The orcs have learned of her return and have chosen a new leader. A great band of them pursued us to the edge of your kingdom. They cried her name in rage when they saw us, Legolas. They have only one thing on their mind, and that is revenge."