A/N: I've taken some liberties with the story and I realize that the hostilities between the two Elven realms are probably inaccurate with the works of Tolkien (not that I know very much…I'm just guessing). I'm probably going to change things quite a bit…and I hope you will just read along and bear the inconsistencies, for the story's sake! J
Golden Leaves of Lorién: Grudges of the Past
Galadriel was standing atop a set of stairs, politely awaiting the arrival of the Elves from Mirkwood. She stood, her hands clasped in front of her, and watched as the group finally came into view. The riders had dismounted and each, in turn, entered the gate of the city and approached the staircase. The Elves all bowed to her and Celeborn, who was standing to her left.
Finally the last Elf of the eight approached and bowed low. Galadriel recognized him to be the son of Thranduil of Mirkwood, for he had visited in the years before when the people of Mirkwood and her people still communicated with one another.
She guessed that he admired and appreciated the Golden Wood, for, back then, he did often visit, as though he sought reasons just to come to Lorién. Galadriel smiled to herself. The Elven folk of Mirkwood had always been fair and lithe in movement, but she noticed that this prince of Mirkwood took after his father and surpassed them all in feature and grace.
"What is it that brings you here once more, son of my Elven brother* who lives in the north? It has been long since you last came," Celeborn said in greeting to the young Elf.
"My father sends regards," the young Elf replied in a smooth tone, "and he wishes it to be that our people may live together in harmony with one another. He regrets that our people have grown distant…"
"And he sends his own son to our lands to make peace?" Galadriel asked, not unkindly though her expression was wary.
"My father has always been one to…wish our people were not so secluded from the rest of our kindred," the prince looked uncomfortable, obviously not pleased with his father's decision to send his son for this errand.
"Thranduil has isolated his own people by his doings, by refusing to aid us in the battles of the last age. Elrond has also said this, though may it be known that we do not bear any harsh feelings towards the people of Mirkwood." Celeborn was stern in manner, but he smiled reassuringly at the prince. "For this time, we acknowledge his good intentions to make harmony once more. You and your people may stay here as long as you wish, and perhaps in the future Elrond's people will forget their malevolence towards the Mirkwood Elves."
The Elf visibly relaxed, but he still appeared uncomfortable. Galadriel stepped down. "My son, although our people may seem unkind at first, they must be given time to forgive and forget. Your are welcome here."
The prince of Mirkwood nodded and bowed his thanks.
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Several weeks had passed since the day the messengers from Mirkwood arrived in the Golden Wood, and they still resided there. As of yet, the people had not cause any noticeable conflicts with the scorned Elves, but Galadriel and Celeborn remained alert. And soon the Lorién Elves did not pay much attention to the intruders. The prince of Mirkwood began to settle and often Galadriel watched him as he walked about the woods and admired the trees. Erlyannil had returned that day from the forest, and every day since then, she asked about the strange Elves that had come to their city.
"Atara," [Mother], Erlyannil called, sitting at the edge of the translucent staircase, "tell me again, who are the Elves who come to Lorién, and what do they desire here?"
The Lady Galadriel smiled at the young girl, who was nearing womanhood but still had the innocent features of a young Elf. "They are from Mirkwood, Erlyannil, and they seek to repair a friendship between our peoples."
Erlyannil's brow furrowed as she scanned her memory. She finally recalled the history Galadriel taught her of the Elves of Mirkwood, and realized then the reason for the tension between the Elven realms.
Galadriel smiled. "You are so curious, but well-learned, mellen, I am always astonished to find you surpassing what I think you are capable of, every day."
The girl blushed slightly, but she felt warmed by her foster mother's praise. Galadriel suddenly sat next to her, a smile on her face. "Erlyannil, has your friend Lyndariel told you of anything recently?"
"No…what is it?"
"I have heard that she has been taken with one of the young Elves from Mirkwood. You have not spoken with her of this or heard anything from her?"
"No, atara, though I have noticed that she has not been around as often…and we have not been wading in the springs for a time now. Taken with an Elf of Mirkwood? Something tells me that will not be a good tiding, and that there will be much conflict."
"Yes, Erlyannil, our people have grown to live with them but I sense that none forgive them for their cowardly deeds in the past. And if they do not, then neither will Elrond's people…and a union between our people and theirs is ill tiding indeed," Galadriel looked worried, and Erlyannil was suddenly reminded of the many years the Lady had seen. Her omnipresent ethereal glow seemed as if it had grown dimmer since the day she had first seen her.
Erlyannil nodded and stood. "I will find her and ask…and do not worry, I will be subtle," she added with a grin. Galadriel sighed and smiled, watching the young girl run along the pathways lightly.
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"O Eärendil," Erlyannil muttered under her breath. She was sitting with her feet dangling in the cool water of the spring, her blue-grey shift hiked up past her knees to avoid getting it soaked. Lyndariel was sitting on the other side of the pool, and a hapless expression was on her face.
"I don't know what to do," Lyndariel whispered, "I'm in love with him, and I know he loves me. We want to be joined in union, but there's no possible way to do that…not with the way our people feel about them. But, you know, Erlyannil, they aren't cowardly at all. Not the way we always assume them to be. He's…different."
Erlyannil nodded, though her gaze remained troubled. "I know, but you do know the trouble this will cause…Galadriel has already proclaimed forgiveness for the Elves of Mirkwood, but I do not know if this, she will be able to do. It is so soon. Oh, Lyndariel, why did it have to be you? You will have to suffer, so much…"
"I can endure it. I could endure it all, just so I could be with him. Not secretly, having to dodge around others and hide the truth, even from ourselves. Besides, there is no way I could not marry--"
"You have already pledged yourself to him?" Erlyannil looked desperately at her friend.
"Yes."
"Aiya," [Oh], she muttered, then, "what is his name?"
"Elladin," Lyndariel said, a faraway look growing in her eyes.
Erlyannil suddenly stood, still holding the folds of her shift up above her knees. "Lyndariel, I only wish the best for you. I'm going to ask Galadriel if she will consent…it will be difficult, but I promise you, it will happen."
Lyndariel smiled, tears brimming in her eyes. "Thank you…thank you so much, Erlyannil! You are so wonderful, you need not even do this for me…"
"But you are my friend," Erlyannil said, "and you are in love. I do this to keep you from doing anything rash."
Erlyannil grinned reassuringly at her friend, though in her mind, she was trying futilely to sort out the many problems that arose with this. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that, as she hurried back to her home near the top of the silver city, she did not notice when the young blonde Elf stepped out from behind a hedge, into her path.
They collided in a sudden heap and Erlyannil fell backwards, scraping her hands. She winced, and let out a small whimper, sprawled on the ground where she had fallen. The Elf had managed to catch himself, though, and he was standing, watching her curiously. She began muttering curses under her breath but suddenly her gaze went up and rested upon the young Elf she had crashed into. She felt her heart jump involuntarily and could not mask her surprise.
It was the one that had turned around to look at her through the branches, the one with the piercing eyes that had challenged her, mocked her. But he was clad in all white now, and he looked so different now, almost sympathetic, holding his hand out to help her.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice low and musical. Erlyannil found herself admiring his chiseled features, but she shook her head hastily.
"You are injured?" he asked, sudden concern written across his face, mistaking her for shaking her head.
"No, I--" Erlyannil fell silent when he reached out to take her hands and pulled her up from the ground.
"Well, perhaps you should not hurry so…" He smiled then, a laughing twinkle in his eyes. Erlyannil felt a hot surge of frustration and she attempted none too successfully to wrest her hands away from his. But he suddenly looked down and saw the blood on her palms. "Oh, your hands--"
"--Are fine," she finished with a steely glare. She tried once more to pull her hands away but could not. He suddenly brought one of her hands to his lips and kissed it gently.
"…Are beautiful," he whispered, and she could feel his warm breath on the back of her hand.
She struggled to push the thoughts out of her mind of his smooth lips caressing her hand. She was furious with herself for acting so foolish, for losing her senses whenever those blue eyes rested on her. Erlyannil could only manage to glare back at him. This time, she finally managed to pull her hands away, and she hastily turned away to continue down the path, leaving the Elf standing, watching her with that same expression of scrutiny he had before he had helped her up. She clenched her hands, strange feelings running rampant through her, and she ignored the pain when her nails bit into the broken skin.
But as she walked, Erlyannil suddenly turned back to look at him once more. He was standing where she left him, and was still watching her, the hawk-like eyes locked onto hers. She turned away hastily, cursed at herself for not watching her way as she hurried, and broke into a run, ascending the stairs. The young prince of Mirkwood watched her leave, a hint of a smile barely touching his face as the glow of the forest city faded barely noticeably with the fall of night.
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*"Brother" is used in the context of formality--not brothers as in kin, but in title. ^^
Disclaimer: All that good stuff belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien; no infringement intended, blah blah. Email: jidai_rinoa@hotmail.com. Please review!