Freedom

Seveawen shivered in the darkness. Listening patiently to the water dripping down a far corner, she did not feel any anger. She felt no remorse or self-pity as she huddled in the damp cold. Elvish or not, she was still in a dungeon. She only longed for a certain someone's warm strength to wrap around her and hold her close to his beating heart. She only wanted her prince.

Whether she slept at all Seveawen could not tell. But she heard a familiar voice in the distance, low and warm, demanding to be let in. She pricked her ears at the sound, hoping and holding her breath. All that followed, however, was silence and the drip-drip-dripping of dank moisture.

Then what was she hearing now? Whispering footsteps, a gate being unlocked—

"Goheno anim, forgive me, meleth nîn…" It was Legolas. He pulled her close and stroked her hair. "I fear you are not free, not yet. But his heart is softening. He will release you soon." His hands traced her shoulders. "You are cold, Seveawen. Here." He produced a lush blanket and wrapped it around her, kissing her forehead. "I will return, meleth nîn, I promise. But I must leave now. You are being guarded." Legolas brushed his lips against hers one last time and slipped away.

From then on, Seveawen was sure she was asleep. She was exhausted from dancing last night—the night before last—whenever it was, from riding, from Thranduil's scrutiny. If one single dream of her prince would have passed before her eyes, she would have been happy. But there was nothing until Seveawen next opened her eyes.

She was given food and water, which she was grateful for. Other than that, she let herself become lost in her own head. Had she really been arrested simply as a human? Or was she truly in violation of Mirkwood law, regardless of her bond of service—now turned love—to Legolas? Try as she might to understand the reasoning of the Elven King, she could not. But Seveawen was only mortal, after all.

Finally, she heard footsteps again, the footsteps she had longed to hear. No sooner had the guards unlocked the door, Legolas slipped inside and swept her into his arms. He had been so distraught trying to gain her freedom, but now that she was free, his heart felt heavy knowing what awaited them at the end of their road.

Never mind, he told himself as he cradled her against his chest. At least she is safe. "Meleth nîn… I am so sorry. Goheno anim," he whispered, smelling her sweet hair. "I am here. I am here." He smiled at seeing her lovely face. "There is a room prepared for you. Wash quickly, for my father will see us before we leave. We are expected again in Ithilien."

Seveawen was surprised to be leaving Mirkwood already, but she was somewhat relieved. Aside from the feast and the dance they had shared, there were memories of this place she wished to leave behind.

Legolas sensed this, squeezing her hand. "Do not fear," he said. "This is a good place. You have only known my father, not my people. They welcome you as their prince's beloved."

And so they did. When Seveawen next bowed before Thranduil, it was the King who bent low. "I must ask your forgiveness, young maiden," he said. "We must be strict with who and what may enter the forest realm. Otherwise, Greenwood may again be overrun with evil beasts. My utmost apologies."

Seveawen smiled and kissed the King's hand. They were at peace.

Others of Thranduil's people cheered as Legolas took her hand and proudly kissed her before his father. They dipped their heads briefly, smiling at her with acceptance, knowing that the stars had crowned her as one of their own. Seveawen had won their Prince's heart; she was one of them now.

Arod was brought for them, and the King himself saw them off. He and Legolas both knew of the jewel. It hung around the prince's neck, tucked against his warm chest, and contained the power to make both his and Seveawen's dreams come true, every last one. For his son's sake, Thranduil hoped that the maiden would prove herself true.

"You are mortal," the King whispered to her. "Take no day for granted. May the Valar guide you, child." And as he stepped back, his son and the young woman behind him rode away.

All along the Greenwood Road, the Elves watched them pass. Somehow they knew what was before Seveawen, even if she herself did not. They prayed for her blessing and faith, both for their beloved Prince's sake and her own. Chanting quietly, they said farewell to the mortal who had ensnared one of the Nine Walkers of the Fellowship and had given him her own heart in return.