Hi guys!

I want to thank Celridel for her immense help.

Let's see what happens when Laura treats again directly with Princess Idril. What will be her reaction?

Oh! And I want to add that in this chapter will start to be developed another plot inside of this story. What will it be?

Waiting for your reviews, guys!

Chapter 17: The Golden and the Black

Four Months Later (Valarya, Day of the Válar. Úrimë {August} Summer, First Age 463)

The slowly brightening sky was lit with the paleness of falling rain, that fell tenderly upon the gardens of Gondolin. Beneath the trees, his ears full of the pattering of rain on the green leaves, King Turgon walked amidst flowers. His crown of garnets and Staff was gone, he was a slender, black-haired Elf, and lines of suffering were read around his granite eyes. He shed the emblems of his title when he could, for they reminded him that he was High-King only through the deaths of his brother and his father.

Surrounded by lilies and lupine blossoms, he knelt and studied them for a while. Although he and his folk had rebelled against the Válar, they had not entirely forsaken them, as was shown by the rain that came to bless the flowers that grew and bloomed.

Although Vàsa' rays did not illuminate the Hidden City, a band of pink, fresh and young, like the breath of color, was glowing in the sky, and slowly the rain was ceasing. Traces of her rosy hands were seen in the leaves of the trees, in the petals of the flowers, in the rain.

A blackbird warbled, his song clear and cool, and then his fellow answered, and soon the air was turbulent with song that welcomed that rising day.

Then another song rose, far more beautiful. It was a crystalline voice, its incomparable beauty accompanied by a harp.

Turgon's heart leaped for joy. He rose from the lilies and followed the song. A willow stretched its long branches, tenderly hiding Idril from the rain. She sat on the grass, her nimble fingers gliding over the strings of her harp. She sang a song that spoke of the beauty that Yavanna gave her entire kingdom. Her eyes were closed in raptured reverence, the golden river of her hair was stirred by a dawning breeze.

Turgon looked at his daughter with love, a creature to him delicate and strong, as she sang the songs Elenwë sang. His wife was no longer with him, but she had given him a treasure, that had made him stay.

He knew the song well, it was a common air in Tìrion. As she began to sing the last verse, he joined his voice with hers.

Idril opened her eyes, startled, for she had been so entranced by the music she had not noticed the approach of her father. When they had finished the song together, she sprang to her feet and embraced him.

"Atar, it has been a long time since you sang with me."

Turgon smiled.

"It was your mother's most beloved song."

Idril's blue eyes searched his, and he knew he must look weary and sad.

"Yes. I know. That is why I sang it, for the morning was so fair it seemed to honor it, and my heart was rejoiced to see the peace here."

Turgon nodded, with the faint trace of a smile.

"That is so, Itarillë." He did not add any false assurances, she would see through them.

Idril smiled and looked at her harp. He knew that this was a gesture she made when seeking to express a request.

"What is it?" He asked affectionately.

Idril's face suddenly assumed an air of confidence.

"Atar, I would see Hwa Young tonight."

"No. " he said instantly.

Idril looked at him, preparing to convince him.

"Why so, Atar? She has changed, or so the Lords say."

"We do not know that," Turgon answered, his voice sharper than he intended.

"Atar," she replied in a tone of sweet rebuke, reading the face he strove to keep impassive with ease. There was an arch challenge in her eyes, but even if the playfulness was stripped away, the challenge would remain. "You afraid that she might hurt me with her words. Her words may be sharp as swords, but I can keep the field against her. I will not let her mistreat me, I assure you. And, remember, the Lords have assured me she treats them kindly. Even Lord Duilin has made no complaint against her. Surely, that shows how great the change has been!" she finished with a laugh.

Turgon did not argue against the veracity of his daughter's reasoning. The Lord of the Swallow had no sympathy for Hwa Young, and the sentiment was mutually shared by the woman. But he still had his misgivings about the woman.

"Itarillë," he answered. "It may be true, but I will not allow my daughter to be insulted by a firíma."

There was an arch to her eyebrows.

"I am not a songbird, Atar," she said softly, but without bitterness. "To be locked in a cage."

"And a fledgling must learn to spread her wings," he agreed.

It was at times like these that his daughter recalled memories of his sister. Írissë was a lover of freedom, willful and proud. It was her willfulness that led her to travel to the sons of Fëanor, and it was her willfulness that led her death at the hands of her husband. She was the Daughter of the Hunt, wild, free-faring and brave.

Idril loved the song and the dance, a child of the Wind-Dancer, like her mother before her. She could wield a sword and defend herself, but her love was not in the chase but in the beauty of the arts.

However, one thing they shared, these twain, they were as rapier blades: slender and as hard to break. His Itarillë could fend for herself and was not afraid of the strange daughter of the Sun.

He saw the same indomitable will in her eyes and knew he would bend before it like he had bent to Írissë.

"Very well, my daughter. When will you see her?"

"This evening."

Turgon nodded slowly.

"I will notify the Lord who guards the cottage tonight."

"Thank you, Atar," said Idril. "I will leave you now, for Lord Duilin is coming to speak to you."

Turgon turned and saw the Swallow approached, with the quick, purposeful stride that defined him, reminiscent of the swift ferocity of the kite. His tawny hair was braided with white feathers: his armor was still on, for he had only finished his guard upon the Gates.

"Lord Duilin!" smiled Idril.

"My Lady Silverfoot," answered Duilin, bowing.

The Celebrindal smiled, took up her harp, and entered the palace, leaving the King and the Lord of the Swallow alone.

"Am I interrupting you, my King?" Duilin asked, standing at a respectful distance. Turgon was looking out towards the rising Sun in silence.

"How fast they grow!" he murmured after a moment, his voice melancholy. "And yet, they are as curious as if they were still children."

Duilin looked at his King in confusion.

"Itarillë desires to visit Hwa-Young this night," explained Turgon, turning around to Duilin. "She wishes to know how much she has changed, she wants to meet the woman who is kind."

"Ah." was all Duilin said. He was not overly fond of the woman.

There was a moment of silence.

"Are you going to give me your account?" Asked Turgon. His bearing changed, he was a King again, not a lonely father. Duilin answered promptly, relieved to change the subject.

"Yes, my Lord."

"What news has there been?" He asked, walking towards the Palace.

"There has not been any," Duilin replied. "Nothing has been seen in Tumladen, nor have there been traces of any unlawful creature."

"What of the Eagles?"

"They have not seen anything either, neither in the valley nor in the Echoriath."

"They continue with redoubled vigilance?"

"Yes, my Lord. Likewise, we also continue with the intensified surveillance. My archers have examined every grass blade in the Valley and have seen nothing."

King Turgon nodded slowly as they came to the Council Chamber. The walls of the room were of marble veined with blue, and there were tall slender pillars of alabaster that came together at the summit to form pointed arches.

"Then we are still safe."

"So it seems, my Lord."

The High King of the Noldor stopped in the middle of the council room, his gray eyes fixed on the marble table where the Lords of the Eleven Houses sat with him to make judgment.

"What House watches over Hwa Young's cottage this day?" He asked.

"In the morning or in the evening?"

"The evening."

"The House of the Tree, my Lord."

"I want you and your House to watch Hwa Young's cottage tonight."

Duilin said curiously,

"Of course. But may I venture a question and ask why? The Princess is safe with Lord Galdor, he is a fine warrior."

"I know he is," answered Turgon. "But you still have a certain distrust of the woman. This will allow you to be more alert. I do not want anything to happen to my Itarillë."

Duilin bowed, reluctant, but willing to obey.

"As you wish, my Lord. I will notify Lord Galdor of your orders."

"Have a blessed day, Lord Duilin."

"May it be the same for you, my King."

Duilin jogged down the Alley of Roses, his feet beating a quick staccato on the stone. He needed to choose ten guards from his House and then inform Galdor that he would relieve him this night. His rest for the day promised to be very short, guarding the Gates one night, ordering his House's affairs during the day, and then guarding Hwa Young the next night. What a cursed nuisance the woman was!

Even more, he did not relish the idea of spending more time with her in the slightest. Perhaps the relationship between him and Hwa-Young had improved, but he did not trust her. She was still insolent, and not overly burdened with manners, even if she was making an effort to be friendly.

But the King's orders were clear, if illogical to him, and even if he was not enthusiastic about fulfilling them, the thought of disobedience did not cross his mind: considering that the safety of the Flower and Pearl of Gondolin was at stake.

So absorbed was he in his thoughts that he did not discern a person in his path, leaning down to pick a half-blown bud from the border, until he had stumbled heavily, and heard a sharp squeal of surprise. Recovering his balance, he saw he had collided with a young Elf-maid. He found to his chagrin, he was blushing, as he helped her to her feet.

"A thousand pardons!" he faltered. "The blame is mine: I was so wrapped in my own thoughts that I did not see you."

She took the hand he extended and jumped to her feet. She was tall and slim. Her skin was fair, and her face shaped like a perfect oval. Two braids of jet-black hair that were now disarranged fell down her back. But the most striking of all her tender beauty were her eyes. Like all of the Noldor, they were gray, but they were so expressive that they shone like the stars.

She laughed easily.

"No need to apologize. All of us..." Her words were strangled in her throat as she recognized him. "Lord Duilin! "She gasped, seeing on his cloak the white-tipped head of an arrow in the background of a dark blue, the symbol of the House of Swallow. "Oh, my Lord! Forgive me! "She exclaimed, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. " I should have watched myself, and not stopped in the middle of a busy street."

"There is nothing to forgive," he said. "I was the one who was foolish enough not to watch my surroundings." He paused. "I have to take my leave: my duties call me. May you have a blessed day. "

The maiden, who was likely as young as Glorfindel nodded briefly. Duilin bowed his head slightly in greeting and continued hurriedly.

'How beautiful are her eyes!' said a voice inside his mind. He shook his head as if to rid himself of it, he had too many things to do to be thinking about trivialities.

The maiden watched him go. She had hit her head against his armor, she could feel it swelling. But worse than that was her humiliation. She could not believe that she had had such terrible luck and caused the brave Lord of the Swallow to stumble! How she wished she had never come here, or that the earth would have swallowed her up! Her shame was so great!

Something fluttered white, snagged on a rose bush. She turned her gaze down and took it from the thorns. It was a delicate white feather. She blushed again. Because of her, Lord Duilin had lost one of his adornments.

Without delay, she ran in the direction he had taken, but when she turned the corner from the Alley of Roses to the Road of the North Gate, she could not see him, even though the Elf-lord's bearing was not one that could go unnoticed.

She looked at the delicate feather in her hands and sighed. She hoped he did not realize that he had lost a feather before she could give it back to him. After all, it was known to all that although Lord Duilin was a gallant, brave, and loyal Lord, the fastest runner and the best archer in all Gondolin, he had a somewhat… quick temper.

That night, beneath the light of the full moon, and the stars that shone serenely in the celestial vault, two people walked.

One was tall and graceful, a creature that caused the stars to envy. Her dress was white as snow and girdled with silver, her face so fair and her golden hair so bright they seemed to say to the sun in the daytime and the moon at night: 'you need not shine since I am shining.' She walked unshod, and her feet seemed hardly to touch the ground.

By her side walked someone far different. She was shorter, and her bearing was not elegant, but purposeful and enigmatic. She wore black: her eyes were green and could be beautiful, but they did not shine like her companion, nor were they expressive, but instead cold and hard as emerald stone. Her face was masterful but ill-favored, her black hair long and soft. She wore boots, and her steps were audible in the silent street.

Those two were the Princess Idril Celebrindal, the Flower, and Pearl of Gondolin, one of the most beautiful Elf-ladies in Endor, so much so that Elves would bicker over the beauty of Idril Silverfoot and Lúthien the Nightingale; and Hwa Young, a daughter of Men, homely even among her own race.

The Princess had gone that night, accompanied by Lord Duilin and ten warriors of his House, to visit her. She had met Laura at the door of her cottage.

Upon seeing her, Laura had felt a strong sting twist her gut. She did not like the Celebrindal, because she was the embodiment of what she would never be. The Celebrindal was beautiful, ethereal, beloved by all, friendly and nice. While she was not beautiful. Nobody in their right mind would consider her beautiful; no one admired her and even less loved her. If they did admire her, it was for the skills she had, and even that was mixed with fear and contempt for what she was capable of and what she had; her temper was neither friendly nor pleasant, but arrogant and insolent. To see Idril was a blow in the stomach, and when she saw her, it took all her self-restraint not to slam the door in her face. She had nearly shown her dislike when the Celebrindal invited her to walk.

But she had not. She had made a decision, a decision for life, and just because she did not like Idril didn't mean she would disappoint Lord Glorfindel. Moreover, she was honest enough with herself realize and accept that Idril was not at fault. It was Laura's fault, unfortunately, this could not be changed, even if she apologized to the end of her days. She would never be accepted, unlike that divine creature.

However, even though she had decided to be nice to everyone, in order to make up for what Glorfindel had done for her, it was not easy for her and even though she tried, she could not start a conversation with the Princess.

They had walked for three hours, down the Road of Running Waters, where the fountains fell in a starlit spray of mists and shadows. Idril's light voice went merrily. She had asked several questions about Laura, but Laura had replied curtly, so Idril had changed tactics and instead spoke of herself and her enjoyments: of the birds, the song, the harp, the rain, the dance. Laura had listened carefully but had not been able to continue the conversation. She had made an effort, but the feeling of inferiority had prevented the conversation from continuing.

From a respectful distance, but close enough so that he could defend the Princess, Lord Duilin was walking, his hand upon the hilt of his sword and his eagle eyes never lost sight of either female.

The Celebrindal had was despairing of continuing the conversation: it was clear Hwa Young did not enjoy her company, so she would not force it on her any longer. However, she decided to make one more effort. She paused and turned her gaze to the sky.

"Which one do you love better, Hwa Young? The Moon or the stars?"

Laura blinked, surprised. She was not used to talking about herself. In the Facility what she thought or felt was something of no value and among the X-Men nobody cared in the least: she was the Ugly Duckling, segregated by appearances and past history. Also, by remaining close-lipped, no one knew about her, and she was safe from any future attack, emotional or physical. So, talking about herself was a challenge. She, the most feared assassin in the world; she, who could perform amazing feats; she, who could bear the most unimaginable tortures; she, who knew how to speak at ten languages; she, who understood technology; she, whose expertise covered several areas of human, could not even speak about herself for a moment, she thought, gritting her teeth in frustration.

"Um ... the Moon, I guess." she replied after a few moments, unsure of her words.

Idril said with a smile,

"Why?"

"Uh ... I do not know ... I guess, because of its brightness, or because of the stories about the Moon, or because I prefer the night ... I do not know." Laura answered, increasingly uncomfortable

The Princess nodded encouragingly.

"What stories?"

"Ah ... there are many," answered Laura evading Idril's gaze to hide her discomfort. But it didn't matter, she knew, the Princess would have noticed, after all, Idril was a very insightful Quendë.

"Could you tell me one?" Idril asked. Part of her enthusiasm was that she held a girlish love of stories, and another half was that she wished to make the woman talk.

Laura apprehended the purpose of the Princess. She did not like the idea in the least, it had been a long time since she had told a story; but she saw from the corner of her eye, Lord Duilin, who was staring at her, waiting for her reaction. She remembered Lord Glorfindel and what he had told the king. She drew a deep breath and began to narrate one of the many stories she knew.

"Um ... a long time ago, at the time when the gods used to walk in the world, the goddess Coatlicue sweeping. As she swept, she saw a large feather on the ground, as white as snow." Laura began nervously. "The feather seemed so beautiful to the goddess that she decided to keep it, so she tucked it in her belt. When she finished sweeping the temple, she realized that she was pregnant. Coatlicue was astonished. She couldn't understand how she could have gotten pregnant because she had not had intercourse with any god. Besides, she was extremely ashamed because she had always insisted that purity was the most important thing, it was something she had ordered her daughter, the Moon goddess, Coyolxauhqui to observe, and here it is that now she was pregnant, and she did not know who the father was."

"She did not know who the father was!" exclaimed Idril, scandalized. Lord Duilin came nearer, but he remained silent.

"Well, it may be a lie, that's how it was," Laura answered, smiling when she saw the Princess' face. That was really amusing, to see the reaction of these Elven puritans.

"And what happened next?" inquired Idril eagerly.

"Oh, well ... when her daughter, the Moon goddess, Coyolxauhqui, found out that her mother was pregnant and did not know who the baby's father was, she became enraged. How was it possible that her mother had committed such a degenerate act?! She, Coyolxauhqui, had always kept her purity, and now her mother had turned out to be a ... woman who had no qualms whatsoever." she substituted that euphemism with what the story actually said: 'a harlot.' Who knew what the Princess's reaction would be? "The goddess Coyolxauhqui summoned all the gods to accuse her mother Coatlicue and to judge what was to be done. The sentence was death. Coatlicue would be stoned."

Duilin came nearer, interested. The punishment was brutal. It was at this time, in all the old stories, that the helpless afflicted was rescued, and he savored that part: the battle, the escape.

"When the goddess Coatlicue knew the verdict, she fled, because she would not allow them to kill her baby. Knowing this, Coyolxauhqui and all her servants: the Tzentzonahua, persecuted her. Coatlicue hid in different places, but finally she had nowhere else to go. The goddess was distressed, but it was at that moment she was despairing when she clearly heard the voice of her unborn baby telling her,

'Do not worry, mother. I will save you.'

"The goddess really did not know what to say or what to do other than to trust what her unborn baby had told her.

"Right at that moment, she was discovered by Coyolxauhqui and her servants, the Tzentzonahua. The Moon goddess had dressed in her silver armor. Large quetzal feathers adorned her helmet; green jade covered her chest and back; her mantle was the skin of a brilliant serpent of a thousand colors was intertwined; her ankles sounded with silvery rattles, as did her wrists; her sword was turquoise and jade; her shield was silver strengthened with volcanic stones and adorned with the symbol of the feathered serpent. In her black eyes shone the fury and the terrible light that illuminates the eyes of a true and experienced warrior.

"The Tzentzonahua wore brightly colored feathers and their bows and arrows were made of precious woods. White eagle feathers fletched them, and the tips of their arrows were of sharp turquoise. They shone ready to kill the helpless goddess Coatlicue." Laura paused dramatically, knowing she held her audience enraptured. By now, her face was lit with excitement, her green eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and her lively gestures and changing tones of voice illustrated the story and gave life to it.

Seeing that for a moment Laura did not speak, Idril asked,

"And then? They attacked the goddess…"

"Coatlicue." Laura finished, smiling. "Yes, but they could not hurt her because at that moment Huitzilopóchtli was born, the Sun god. He was the warrior god of excellence, the warrior who was never defeated! His appearance was terrifying and at the same time amazing! Everything was illuminated by a great glow. His armor was of gold, his helm adorned with the feathers of the eagle; his coat was the skin of the jaguar; his shield was obsidian, the same as his sword; his ankles and arms sounded with the rattle of golden bracelets. In his eyes shone a light so terrible that Coyolxauhqui herself trembled.

"The Tzentzonahua attacked Huitzilopochtli, but the Sun-god of war easily overcame them and dismembered their huge army in such a way that he scattered them throughout the firmament in such a way that they could never be together!" Laura pointed towards the sky.

"The stars" Idril said in understanding.

Laura nodded enthusiastically and continued her story.

"Now the two siblings would have to fight: Coyolxauhqui and Huitzilopóchtli. Anyone else would have decided to give up when seeing the power of the Sun God, but the Moon goddess was not someone who could easily be defeated. No, the goddess Coyolxauhqui was an innate warrior, the most terrible among all the goddesses and she did not shy away from battle so easily. So, with an awful war cry, both gods attacked. The battle was terrible!" Cried Laura. "The mountains trembled, the rivers dried up, the earth cracked, the birds flew scared and the dogs howled! All Nature trembled in terror at the great duel between the Sun god and the Moon goddess!

"Finally, Huitzilopóchtli defeated Coyolxauhqui. The goddess deserved death because she was a warrior defeated in battle; but Huitzilopóchtli acknowledged that his sister had fought with honor, so he decided to spare her life. However, this didn't save Coyolxauhqui from her punishment."

"What was her punishment?" Asked the Celebrindal breathlessly.

"Her punishment? Her punishment was that, instead of shining every night in all her splendor, reigning all the night, now she would only shine like that for only a few days. Then she would have to shrink until she was hidden completely, in memory of her defeat. Since then, every time the Moon is not seen it is because the goddess Coyolxauhqui mourn for her former glory."

Laura turned her gaze to the Moon, and then looked at the princess. Idril was looking at her with amazement, and the Lord of the Swallow, beside the Princess, showed the same emotion as the Celebrindal.

Laura smiled again, true joy drawn on her thin lips. She had not told a story for so long! It felt so good! She had forgotten how much she liked to tell stories and how they moved her until she seemed to be in them, part of them.

"That is a strange story," said Idril. "I have never heard anything like it! Have you, Lord Duilin? "

Duilin flushed for the second time that day, to see he was standing beside the Princess. He cleared his throat.

"No, I have never, but is indeed a strange story."

Laura's smile faded until it disappeared.

"Yes, I suppose so," she murmured.

"Please, do not think that we did not enjoy your story!" Exclaimed Idril. At last, she had managed to make this strange woman show joy and life, and now the light that had illuminated her had disappeared again. "You are a wonderful story teller, in truth, you could be a bard!"

"Thanks," Laura murmured, but she only did it more out of courtesy than because she really believed the Princess' words.

Idril chose to leave then, knowing any further talk would be futile, but Laura spoke first. "Um ... Princess, I think you've already wasted too much time in my company and I need to rest. You see, the children of Men need to sleep every night." she added crossly.

"It's true, I had forgotten," answered Idril sweetly. "Let us go back, then."

Laura's POV

I feel like a fool. In fact, I AM a fool, an idiot, an imbecile! I'm getting soft! I've never been like this, never! And here I have shown myself up as an idiot in front of Idril and Duilin! Yes, right in front of Duilin, this had to happen! Damn you, Laura! Why! Apparently, I need to retrain as before, or I'll end like one of these Elves: all tenderness and openness. I'll never allow that.

First of all, because I've never been like that. I always hide who I really am, always hide what I feel and what I think. It's the barrier that has prevented me from being hurt. It is enough to know what people think of me. Second, I will never be accepted. If in my world I was never accepted in society: my only value was that I was the perfect assassin; there's no way I'll be accepted among the Elves. My tastes, ideas and way of thinking must be terrible for them. The truth is not surprising, everyone sees me the same way in either realm, only these Elves have a superiority complex added to that that makes them extra detestable.

I do not want to imagine what would happen if they knew who I really am, what I really can do and all my history. They would flee in horror, even Lord Glorfindel.

Damnit, NO! Laura, pay attention. Never show your emotions again. Walk carefully, because the first time you neglect to do so, everything you say, do and think, will be used against you. It always has been and always will be, after all ... what else can a woman like you can expect?

Laura returned her features to an indifferent mask, obliterating any traces of joy and excitement from her eyes.

"May you have a blessed night, Hwa Young," the princess said softly at the door of her cottage.

"Likewise, Princess" she replied with cold courtesy.

Idril smiled slightly and left, followed by Lord Duilin who had muttered a similar farewell.

"Did you see how she transformed, Lord Duilin?" said Idril thoughtfully as they neared the palace.

Duilin nodded slowly.

"Yes, I did, Princess."

"Lord Glorfindel was right." she continued "Hwa Young is much more than meets the eye."

"Most likely, Princess."

Idril turned and stared at him. He read disapproval in her blue eyes.

"I do not know why you think differently, Lord Duilin. You were there and showed enough interest to approach. Surely that is proof enough."

Duilin sighed and answered,

"You speak the truth, Princess. Hwa Young is not who we thought she was."

The Celebrindal looked at him for a moment. She did not seem satisfied, but all she said was,

"Many thanks, Lord Duilin, for accompanying me. Have a blessed night."

"Have a blessed night, Princess," he answered, bowing his head.

When the Princess had disappeared, Duilin sprinted back to the cottage. He favored running over walking, it was too slow and tedious. The rushing wind seemed to race with him and clear his thoughts.

He had always had animosity towards Hwa Young, but he had been startled by the change. The story was certainly strange: it was untrue, that was not how the moon came to be, but it was the fault of men that they did not know the truth. What left him more astonished was the expression on the woman's face and in her eyes.

Maybe...maybe Lord Glorfindel was right. Perhaps he had hurried to judge her, and Hwa Young was much more than all the Elf-lords, the King and the Princess had believed at first.

Just in case... the story that Laura tells to Lord Duilin and Princess Idril is an aztec myth, that's why the names are so weird. The names are in nahuatl, the language of the aztecs or mexicas who were the ancient inhabitants of the ancient Mexico.

Waitig for your reviews, guys!