T.A. 2070
Even a stranger to these lands, one had to acknowledge without envy, there was no equal to the Golden Wood in its impartial beauty.
When forced to use the impenetrable tops of the huge mellyrn trees as a shelter from heavy rain, that view might lack a certain objectivity, but Legolas, who never had been that close to Lórien before, was honestly impressed. Unlike Mirkwood which had become a place of constant danger, with Sauron moving in into Dol Guldur, this was some good deed for a soul, alright. Time seemed to stand still around here. The broad trunks offered enough protection even from a powerful storm. Hardly any noise to break through the twilight, no threat of any kind that Legolas' fine senses could grope … Forced to be parted from home for way too long, this was at least a proper alternative, as much as Legolas had hesitated setting up camp here of all places.
Well, Thranduil didn't need to know everything. As long as Legolas did not cross the Celebrant, there wouldn't be awkward encounters with certain residents of this realm. Maybe he would even be able to sleep for a few consequent hours for a change, for the first time on this nerve-stretching journey with a purpose he still couldn't quite comprehend. When his father next wanted to get rid of him for a few weeks, he better just told him instead of demoting him to a glorified menial.
"Bellar, that's enough!" Good intentions of resting were doomed to fail though when bringing a horse that kept on pawing the ground or raising its voice to a tedious snort, occasionally pushing its nose to the side of the tent, which was already instable due to constant overstrain as it was. Legolas needed to have words about the animal with his father. Even if it really did bring a lot of good predisposition, for a warrior steed it definitely was too nervous, begetting day present or not.
"What's wrong, big buy?" Sighing, Legolas crawled outside and gently touched Bellar's head, trying to ease his fear with a few lowly murmured words in an old Sindarin dialect. "What did you see this time? Wargs? Bears? Flying mûmakil?"
Bellar's next loud bristle, close to sounding offended, prevented him from hearing in time what he should have been noticing ten minutes ago. Legolas took another second to call himself careless, inattentive and a fool before he spun around and grabbed the thin wrist closing up on him with a blade.
Only another elf could have crept up on him nearly unnoticed, so he refrained from drawing a weapon himself for the moment, just held the darkly clothed figure cowering in the bushes on distance. "What do you think you're doing?"
He had anticipated a marchwarden of Lórien and was bewildered to see a slender shape when he stepped back and pulled the person with him, into what little moonlight shone onto the clearing through the roof leaves. A female elf.
Still shaking his head, he let go of her. One did not lightly raise a hand against a she-elf. Not even when for whatever reason they didn't seem to be a friendly.
"Answer me," he demanded, not that harsh anymore but still plenty resolute.
"Lórien needs to be protected from any danger." Not even the defiance in it could rob that deep, very pleasant voice of its appealing sound. "The wardens told us to be careful about strangers in these lands. You could have been an orc!"
"Get your hair out of your face, then you might be able to see better." Legolas looked down at himself demonstratively. Granted, his beige and green leather tunics were a little battered from the weather and the less than graceful housing of the last weeks, but some insults, an elf didn't take lightly.
"Fine, you're a little tall for that." The elf finally put away her knife, pushed aside her bangs and looked him over with unashamed curiosity.
"I certainly hope, I am not disfigured enough either, and the stench should be missing as well," he added, dryly. "You should be thankful, you obviously never met one of these creatures. What do you hope to achieve with a blade like that when you do? Give them a haircut?"
For a moment, she looked like she was about to redraw her weapon and prove just how effective it was. Irritated, with her hands on her hips, she blew back that stubborn strand of hair that hadn't stayed in place for longer than two seconds. "You speak too careless a word, stranger. My father gave this weapon to me. He said, in times like these one can never be careful enough."
"Whoever uses a weapon should be able to handle it. First of all, you have to be ready to kill with it, or your enemy will be faster. A female elf shouldn't be too quick with handing out death though. I'm sure, your father taught you that as well." Legolas found he'd wasted enough time with bantering and sat down on the open entrance to his tent, ready to close it anytime if he couldn't get rid of the visitor soon. "Better get some training before you try to rush someone again. And take a closer look next time."
"You shouldn't be surprised that people attack you when you're roving around like an orc on the hunt." Slightly piqued, the elf examined his dirt-stained, patched up accommodations, so low-rise that it fell over immediately when you got up higher than on your knees inside. "Do you not have a home?"
"My home is too far from here to escape the rain and get some good night's sleep." Maybe some polite subtlety would be of help here ...
"An elf afraid of moisture? Afraid to ruin your do?" At least that didn't sound aggressive anymore, just amused.
When the moon above spread its full power, the elf's smile immediately grew, probably without her even realizing. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath as if the wan light was giving her delight, like a ray of sun. The rain clinging to her dark, shoulder length hair didn't seem to bother her at all. Her dress was long soaked anyway.
The stranger started to grow on him, now that she'd lost her mistrust, now that the moon brought out her bright skin, her youthful fine features. Big, alert eyes, very full lips … She was a pearl, and without a doubt integrated perfectly into the hermetically sealed system of Lórien. All the more unusual for her to be out here this far.
It wasn't any of her business, but Legolas wasn't ready to take her mockery sitting down. "I'm traveling by order of my father. He's sent me to collect some samples from a mining settlement near Lórien. And those need to stay dry."
"Still no reason to weasel around by the river in secret like a warg. Why don't you come with me to Caras Galadhon?" The elf whistled loudly whereupon a small bright mare neared the clearing. "The city residents won't bite, I promise."
"Not a good idea." Exactly the kind of conversation he had wanted to avoid. In probably no later than two minutes, his new acquaintance would be gone. A pity, really. Legolas tried his best not to let his eyes roam the elf's body too obviously, that had not fully formed just yet. Curiosity aimed at the wrong people could kill. "I am not welcome there."
Now he'd made it to seriously confuse the stranger for the first time. "If you are not wearing a really good disguise and are an orc after all, you're an elf, just like me, mellon. What is it that you fear?"
"I am not like you. I call Mirkwood my home." What good was it, beating around the bush? As soon as the elf would get back to Caras Galadhon, they would tell her who she'd been talking to. Legolas had little doubt that at least Lady Galadriel would be fully aware of him being close. The only reason, the marchwardens had not seized him was that he had not crossed the river. There were certain borders, an elf in Middle-earth did not cross in any way.
"So what? My mother used to live there for a while as well before she met ada." To Legolas surprise, the elf's smile did not falter for even a second, the unexpected revelation only added a hint of melancholy. "Your descent does not make you a lesser person."
"Your people would disagree." That much naivety only drew a tired laugh from Legolas' lips. "Or has there already been a change in leadership again? Do you happen to rule Lórien as of late? You didn't tell me your name yet." At least that much he wanted to know, though he would probably never see the elf again once her people told her everything about the hostility between Lady Galadriel and Thranduil.
Residents of opposite sides of this river usually didn't have any dealings with each other. No matter how the love between this other elf's parents had come to pass, Legolas seriously doubted it had started in either of their homes. Probably the whole thing had only worked out without provoking a new blood feud, because the elf's mother originally hadn't been from Thranduil's realm.
"Well, why would I?" She dramatically put a hand on her chest. "You might end up putting a spell on me, or send a horde of evil trees after me. Or you'll slay me with your rock samples …"
For a moment, neither of them said anything, then liberating laughter in two voices broke the silence of the night.
"Now come on, you're soaking wet." The elf reached out her small hand to Legolas.
"Tempting, but no." He got back up without touching her, to look her in the eye. A look that would probably haunt him in some upcoming sleepless nights before it would become a sweet memory of an otherwise rather dull journey. "My father is very strict about these things. I'd hate to annoy him even more. It's bad enough that I'll be home in the palace much too late."
"Home in the …?" The elf tilted her head in that lovely childlike way, taking another close look at him. "You are … Legolas, aren't you? Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Mirkwood."
Legolas made do with a short nod only, wondering how she'd come to the conclusion so quickly. Elves of Lórien seemed to be better informed about Mirkwood and its habitants than one would believe, given the ongoing mutual animosities.
He expected the elf to take her leave, now that she knew that every contact between them would bring nothing but trouble.
She didn't take her leave. She took a short, respectful bow. "It is my pleasure. Tarisilya Vandriniel."
Tarisilya – a somewhat willful wordplay which probably meant as much as 'moon ruler'. So Legolas had seen that right: She was a child of the night.
And there was something else he immediately noted about her name. The few males of his folk who committed to the art of medicine were known far beyond the borders of their realms. "Vandrin? I heard of your father. Isn't he nearly as old as Lord Elrond?"
He was surprised that Vandrin – known for centuries as a conjurer of magic not openly welcome everywhere – should have a daughter that young. Elves usually married early in their lives.
Legolas' own father though had already been an exception to that, just like Elrond and his still unwed kids. Legolas himself had not met anyone to raise his interest in that regard so far either. Sometimes you had more important things to do, as Thranduil would have put it. That legendary healer of Lórien had probably long felt the same.
"They were born shortly after one another." Tarisilya grimaced. "They don't get along too well. It seems, dispute among elves are a custom in Middle-earth. They're like children, sometimes, that's what I think. I just can't say it too loud or ada will lock me up in my room. But Lord Elrond and him, they only argue about little things. At bottom, they've got the same opinions, they just voice it differently. Nothing compared to that drama that your father and Lady Galadriel keep on hosting. I mean – seriously."
"Yes, I think that covers quite well." Legolas caught himself grinning when Tarisilya openly voiced what he'd only dared to think so far, when his father insisted on being announced as 'King Thranduil under the oak and the beech' or enlightened some reception with other side blows against Lórien.
"What are you doing out here that late?"
"Shoot, I forgot." Startling, Tarisilya covered her mouth with her hand. "I need to go! I need to find brightherb for my brother."
"You mean that?" With Tarisilya's watching him, astonished, Legolas got some blossoms of a snow-white flower from his tent that he'd stumbled upon when fishing by the shore in the last of daylight earlier, and held them out to her. "Please, take them. They probably would have withered on the way home anyway. That way at least, they fulfill a last purpose before they go."
"Thank you." The bright moon light revealed Tarisilya's blush when she reached for the unexpected gift and grazed Legolas' skin for a moment. Carefully, her fingertips stroked one of the undamaged star shaped blooms. "Tegiend can be so clumsy. He's gotten injured training with Haldir. His admiration for Haldir's skills sometimes distracts him so much that he forgets about his own. As long as he's losing focus so quickly, it's too early for him to become a warden, but he just won't admit that. Well, he'll be in bed now for a while instead of the barracks. He loves the smell of brightherb. I'll put it on his bedside so he'll recover faster."
"I'm sure he'll be delighted. You should hurry though. A young elf shouldn't be out here alone at this time."
"In Lórien, nothing bad can happen. Lady Galadriel is taking care of us." Tarisilya stashed the herb in a pouch on her belt and got up on her mare's bare back. "These woods are untouchable."
"That's what my father thought about Greenwood the Great," Legolas replied softly.
"Don't worry." She gifted him with a last smile. "Once the moon rises, I'm not worried about my welfare. It's protecting me and giving me strength. I wish you a safe journey home, Legolas of Mirkwood." Already on her way west, she turned around, her cheeks blushing once more. "I hope you'll seek shelter from the rain in Golden Wood again soon."
"Where have you been all evening? Ada is looking for you." Both annoyed and worried, Tegiend sat up in his bed when he heard Tarisilya's light-footed steps on the stairs leading to their common chambers. Usually their father would have been in this talan as well, that fortunately offered enough space for the three of them, built on one of the largest trees of Caras Galadhon, right next to the one that Lord Celeborn with his wife lived in. Tarisilya was only lucky that Vandrin was busy with party preparations or she would have come home to a much angrier welcome.
"I know you're there, stop the nonsense." When Tarisilya didn't show up in the door, Tegiend tried to sit up further but fell back onto the mattress when one of his broken rips throbbed in protest. Heavens, he would never be training with a warden again … at least not without armor.
"When did you unlearn how to take a joke?" Pouting, Tarisilya scurried over to his bed, one hand behind her back, a mischievous grin on her face.
Tegiend's fine sense of smell told him what she had brought before she could show it. "You're a fool, riding out that far just for this." He smacked the back of her head softly. "And the best sister anyone can wish for," he quickly added when he saw her disappointed face.
With her smile already back, Tarisilya put the brightherb on his nightstand and hugged him, with regard to his injury only softly. Her healer instincts were developed well enough already to rein in her cockiness, Vandrin had made very sure of that. "I need to tell you something."
"I knew that since you came storming in here, chuckling like an elfling," Tegiend teased her. "Put on something dry first, Ilya. If ada sees you like that …"
"I know." With a deep sigh, Tarisilya started to look around in their closet, where nearly every single piece could be found twice. Even when Tegiend and her had been little, they had always insisted on wearing the same things, to underline their big resemblance. Tarisilya happened to be fragile by nature, and like most female elves in their youth, she had not developed much of a shape yet. She still matched his height too, so they had been able to keep to that beloved tradition. It was another day for her to end up in one of his tunics, and in her impatience, she nearly made it to tear two buttons off.
"What's his name?"
"What? Ow!" Tarisilya got up quickly, forgetting about of the shelf in the closet and promptly hit her head. "How did you know …?"
"I know that dreamy look on your face, sis." Tegiend waited for her to be back by his side and rested a fingertip on her wrist, just like he had seen her and his father do that when they were treating patients. "And your heart is racing. You want to tell me now, another elf of Lórien is crazy enough to go for a ride at this time? Who is it, how does he look, how old is he? What does he do? Is he taking good care of you?"
"Hey, little brother, how about you let me get to know him first before you start to cross-question him?" Embarrassed, Tarisilya hid behind some of her long brunette strands.
"You're five minutes older than me, so don't get cocky," Tegiend returned their usual joke.
"You still didn't answer me. Where were you? Ada searched half of the city for you."
"By the edge of the river. I wanted to see something new." Tarisilya drew her shoulders close, sensing the upcoming storm on his face.
"You always do what you want anyway." His lips tight, Tegiend let go of her hand. "But if you do insist on visiting the most dangerous area of this realm, at least do it in the daylight."
"Dangerous why? Because it's close to Mirkwood? You're afraid of the elves there too?" Unfortunately, Vandrin had not quite succeeded yet in teaching Tarisilya restraint and consideration. Her impertinence had earned her one or the other reprimand from the wardens before, even some of Lady Galadriel herself who just like Lord Celeborn, kept close contact to Vandrin. These kind of admonitions usually helped for at least five minutes. "I'm sorry." Now, too, she immediately lowered her head when the corners of Tegiend's mouth dropped.
"I'm just worried about you. Think about that when you join the others, will you?"
"I'm not going. I'm staying with you."
"You've upset ada enough today as it is. You want him to put up with everyone asking why you're not sitting at Galadriel's table?" Tegiend asked, gently. "Thank you for your concern, but I'm tired anyway. I would only bore you with my snore."
"You don't snore." She forced a smile on her lips though she obviously hated the thought of another dreary celebration. For Tarisilya, an evening like that would once more bring nothing but interested looks from a lot of other young elves, which, understandably, she wasn't too fond of. "Fine. But only because you're asking me to."
"Not so fast." Tegiend held on to a tail of her tunic when she started to get up, just as quickly as before. "What about that elf? You didn't tell me his name. Will he be at the party?"
"I don't know his name."
Tegiend immediately felt that was Tarisilya was lying. A keen talent for what was going on in other beings' minds, that he had inherited from their mother, connected their hearts and often let him see Tarisilya's thoughts.
"He is … not from here," she added, hesitatingly. "He was just traveling by."
Tegiend eyed her sharply and then turned away, disappointed. It was the first time his sister was keeping secrets from him. That hurt. And still it was normal, he would have to get used to it. Someday their ways would part, a procedure especially hurtful for twins that would bring them back together closer in the end though.
"Then I hope you're going to see him again soon," he somehow gritted out, though he was already cursing that elf, whoever had made Tarisilya start to finally grow up. At some point in every elf's life, another love than the one to their family was taking the most important place. That was just the way of things.
"You're the best." Tarisilya was already back to looking radiant. "What can I wear tonight? You have to help me or I'll never be ready in time." She ran over to the closet and right back again. "Just a second. Hair!"
"Oh, Ilya, not today," Tegiend moaned, exasperated. "Have mercy with the seriously injured."
"If you hadn't run into Haldir's sword, you'd be alright," Tarisilya responded, quite unkind. Laying down right beside him, making sure they were on the same level, her sharp eyes measured the length of his hair against hers. "You're still ahead," she realized, disappointed. "That's unfair! I'll ask Lady Galadriel for a hair spell. It worked for Lúthien."
"Don't you dare. At least don't embarrass ada this once a year." Tegiend's dug his elbow into her rips so she would get up. "Get moving, short stuff. The others are waiting for you."
"On it." Still grumbling to herself, she started to search the closet once more.
"Do you think he minds it that his hair is much longer than mine?" She felt the draught of a pillow hurled at her head early enough to dodge, this time without hitting her head.
"She's becoming a real flower, Vandrin." When Tarisilya entered the huge hall in the center of Caras Galdhon – at least almost punctual –, she was easily turning every head in the room. Galadriel was not the only one to smile at the sight of the very shy looking elf in her loosely tailored red dress. "Old enough to be picked, as you should have noticed. Her cheeks are flushed."
"She's too young for that." Vandrin had never been one to easily get rattled. An impressive sight around here from the start of this realm, tall like his kids but a lot stronger built, with square features, piercing eyes that had seen millennia of war and peace, and a voice that knew how to make people listen, Vandrin had nothing to hide compared to personalities like Celeborn's. That he had kept out of active battle most of the time, in favor of his profession, couldn't change that.
It was that very reputation of steadiness that had one or the other guest at the table clear their throat in sympathy, when this elf of all people aimed quite the mistrustful look at Tarisilya, in spite of his own words. His face grew even stricter when his daughter nodded at him with a badly executed curtsy. "She's nothing but a child."
"Not for long, mellon."
Galadriel dropped the subject with a lenient smile and turned to Haldir, raising her chin to motion him to speak.
The warrior had joined the table minutes ago already with a respectful bow, silently, his arms stiffly crossed behind his back, waiting for whatever report he had to make. His appearance didn't give away the little quarrel with Tarisilya's brother in the afternoon. His silver and white armor already was polished back into shine, the torn clothes underneath traded for new ones. Haldir had not been assigned to the wardens for long and took his duties very seriously.
"I thought you would surely want to know that we have an unexpected guest, milady. The crown prince of Mirkwood has set up tent close to the border." Though Haldir did his best to keep his voice neutral, every attentive elf could notice his aggression, badly hidden behind carefulness. Elves of Mirkwood were never a sight too welcome in Lórien.
"Surprising but not of significance, guard. Thank you for your mindfulness though. Go back to your patrol."
Probably just Vandrin by her side and her husband were able to tell that Galadriel's eyes narrowed for a moment. And that her hand had a too tight grip on her glass when she put it down before the tremble couldn't give her away. Even animosities not started by yourself, at some point became a shadow on the soul.
"Now that our last guest has arrived, let us begin." When she got up and raised her voice to that striking tone that allowed her to set herself apart from many other female elves, she had already disregarded the quick moment of weakness.
While the inside of the richly decorated celebration talan with all those marble tables and the silver painted walls mirrored the joy of the occasion, outside, there was no jollity to be seen. Plain grey walls and a narrow wooden terrace without a balustrade providing a view west, allowed seclusion from too loud music, from too much merriment, when the own heart was longing for silence.
It was a place very suitable for conversation of crisis as well.
"It is nothing, ada." Sighing, Tarisilya leaned against the door, backing away from Vandrin, from his explorative looks that seemed to see into her very soul. She could just hope that he wouldn't ask. She didn't want to share with him what she had experienced earlier. Maybe she would never see Legolas again, and then she'd have worried her family for nothing. That the thought provoked pain in her heart, she only realized when she was not able to fight it anymore.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here in time. It will not happen again." She couldn't help but wonder if Legolas who had to be a great deal older than her, had to come up with embarrassing apologies like that for Thranduil.
When her father's critical observation got unbearable, she stepped forward to the edge of the platform and looked up to the moon. Usually its face always comforted her when she felt treated unfairly. Today it didn't help. How she wished once again that her mother was still alive. She surely would have understood, unlike her much too strict father.
"I miss her too, Ilya." Vandrin lovingly put his arm around her shoulders. "I always tried to be there for you like she should have been. She promised to watch over you when she would reach the Halls of Mandos. She's here for you, you just need to believe in it."
Relieved because Vandrin seemed to think that her mother was the reason for her being such a mess, Tarisilya returned his embrace. It was a weird night, the first of its kind that she experienced in her 70 years, but she would always remember it kindly.
She hoped that this slightly eccentric and still, in an inapprehensible way, very charming elf out there in his tent would do the same.