Golden Leaves of Lorién
Chapter Three: Chaos Rising
A/N: Again, took a lotta liberties with the entire plot. And a short disclaimer: even though I twisted it, the entire idea belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. Thank you. Email to: jidai_rinoa@hotmail.com
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The Lady Galadriel sat on the edge of her bed, wringing her hands in front of her. Erlyannil sat on the floor before the Lady, and she wore a look of the utmost concern.
"You are true in your reasoning, Erlyannil," Galadriel began, "but this cannot be. I do not know what to say."
"Lyndariel is my…only friend in this city," Erlyannil muttered, "and, as much as I do not want to see her suffer from the disapproving of the others here, I do not want her to suffer because she can not be bound to Elladin. She loves him, atara, and she will do anything to be with him. You must understand--this is Lyndariel we speak of now! She can and will go to any measure just to…"
"Yes…I know. I understand. I just don't think…" Galadriel sighed. "But it must be, I fear. If they have pledged themselves to each other. Perhaps it will not be as ill as we dread it to be…perhaps our people will surprise even us and will be even kinder to the union. Perhaps I do not give my people enough time to overcome grudges of the past."
"Perhaps, atara," Erlyannil said. "But I am sorry. For the trouble this has caused you."
"Trouble? My dear, there have always been troubles. You are young yet." Galadriel smiled warmly at the girl. "Your friend should not worry, nor should you. Our people will eventually have to learn to accept that the Elves of Mirkwood are not all cowards who hide behind the lines of their kindred in times of battle. And you may be right, Erlyannil, perhaps it will be better if this happens quickly…so that there will be no time for conflicts to even arise."
"Or it could all come tumbling down at once," Erlyannil said, eyes downcast.
"Do not worry!" Galadriel exclaimed, a smile in her eyes, "being too learned for such a young one, perhaps is not the best. You should not have to worry over such matters while you are still young. Speaking of youth, do you not think it time that you follow your friend's ways?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean…that it is the right age, you have come beyond our ways of learning and you are ready. Ready to be bound in union to another--"
"Atara!" Erlyannil exclaimed, standing suddenly. "You cannot be serious! I am not ready…nor will I be…I…" Thoughts of the young blonde elf slid unbidden into her mind, but she pushed them out angrily with a shake of her head. "No, I am not. Never." With that final word, she took one last look at Galadriel's laughing face and hastily stepped out of the room.
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The days came and went, and Erlyannil stayed in with Galadriel near the tops of the trees, only occasionally venturing down to walk by the springs or admire the blooming trees. She knew inwardly what she avoided in staying only near the upper reaches of the city. Erlyannil did not want to confront Lyndariel, to see how anxious her friend was for the announcement that would eventually come from Galadriel of the marriage.
And when that announcement finally did come, Erlyannil feared the city's reaction. She remained in her small room, preoccupying herself with an old hobby she had as a child of making sketches of the city, until the night the ceremony was scheduled to begin.
Erlyannil felt a strange unexplainable anxiety growing in her mind. It had lingered in her thoughts since Lyndariel had told her of her love for the outsider…and since then, Erlyannil felt a strange déjà vu surrounding the events. She pushed her dark hair out of her eyes, frustrated with her odd feelings, and hastily dressed herself in a slim silver gown that was laced with the golden leaves from the trees along the hem and collar. She pinned golden leaves into her hair, a decoration only worn for the most important of events. After all, it was Lyndariel's marriage to the young Elladin, and Erlyannil was unsure of how the event would transpire. She found herself breathing rather rapidly as she descended to the luminous grove in which the ceremonies would be held.
When she finally reached it, her breath caught for a moment. The moonlight was streaming through the dense roof so that shafts of light cut through the peaceful scene. Everywhere, the Elves of Lorién were dressed ceremoniously, dancing gracefully, and to one side sat Galadriel and Celeborn, both regal on their thrones of carved wood.
Galadriel smiled knowingly at her, and a sudden faraway look grew in the Lady's eyes. She is no longer young, Galadriel thought, watching the girl step timidly into the grove, she may be only fifteen years of age in the equivalent of the measures of the Men, yet she is so much older, so much wiser…perhaps it is time she knew the truth. It is a wonder that she never did ask about it. Galadriel's thoughts were interrupted by Celeborn at her side, who stood and held his hand, asking her to join in the dancing.
Erlyannil smoothed out her dress with slightly sweating hands, cursing herself for feeling so strange. When she looked up, she saw Lyndariel, dressed in a pale, intricate white dress, dancing with Elladin. Lyndariel was radiant, and Erlyannil could see that Elladin saw her beauty, for he looked upon her in awe as they stepped in time to the lilting music of the Elves.
A light touch at her elbow caused her drifting gaze to focus once more, and she looked to her side.
"Your friend is beautiful," the Elf said. His words flowed out, low and smooth, in a half whisper. Erlyannil turned and found herself staring at the Elf dressed in a silver-blue tunic, his light hair reflecting the silver moonlight. "I regret…that we have never been properly introduced," he said, "I am Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood--"
"You are Thranduil's son?!" Erlyannil asked in dismay, interrupting him.
He paused for a moment. "…Yes. And you might be…?"
"Erlyannil Galadh," she replied, blushing slightly.
"Galadh?" Legolas asked, a curious expression written on his face. "The word for tree…?"
"A name my foster mother, Galadriel, gave to me." Erlyannil looked toward the Lady, sitting elegantly as she watched the dances.
"Foster mother?" Legolas asked cautiously. It was a rare thing indeed to be the adopted daughter of the Lady Galadriel, but that explained his many questions about the girl's unusual wisdom. "Do you…know of your real parents?"
"I…" Erlyannil began, but she faltered, and the nagging sensation in the back of her mind grew suddenly. "I don't know, I never wondered," she whispered, more to herself than to answer the prince's query.
Erlyannil saw the questions forming in the elf's mind, but he did not voice them. Instead, he held out his hand for her to take. She nearly placed her hand in his, but hesitated, suddenly aware that she had forgotten all of the past encounters with the young elf.
"Erlyannil," he whispered, "I am sorry for my light 'havior of late… I was only astonished to find one such as you--you move and speak and, therefore, think unlike one of your few years."
"And you? Are you not still younger than the trees?" Erlyannil asked him, a challenging expression growing in her eyes. She stepped backwards, aware of the too small distance that separated her from Legolas.
Legolas laughed then, a light and merry sound that, like the laugh of any elf, caused the hearts of any who heard it to feel a great warmth. "Younger than the trees, that is true," he said, obviously noticing her subtle retreat backwards, since he began to edge forward, "but I am your elder by hundreds of seasons. And still I am a youth among my people. Yet it seems that you may know things that I have yet to know myself…"
"The Lady taught me…no doubt, I do not know much else that you will not learn in time." Erlyannil's eyes swept over his face, and she noticed the youth still written on his features, glowing in his eyes.
Legolas again held out his hand. "Would you dance with me?"
Erlyannil hesitated but smiled, and replied by placing her hand in his and allowing him to lead her away from the other dancers. Then he slid his hand down to her waist and twirled her to the sweet music around them. She began to feel dizzy and her heartbeat quickened. Legolas brought her nearer to him so that she could feel his heart beating against hers. He looked down deeply into her eyes, causing an unusual shiver to course through her. Erlyannil lowered her gaze to the ground.
"This union…is ill news," Legolas began, his voice secretive and pitched so that only she could hear. "I was sent here by my father to make peace, and it seemed that for a while we had accomplished this. But then, now this--I sense that my people and yours are not yet ready for a union between them. It may cause--"
"Havoc," she muttered under her breath, finally bringing her gaze back up to his face. "Yes, I know."
"My father refuses to give his consent to this marriage." Legolas' gaze looked out past her, as though focusing on something far away. His expression grew distant as he thought. "Just as he refused to give consent to the union of the two lovers that time…three hundred years ago. I barely remember, for I was but a yearling then, but I do remember that there was much trouble. The Elf--one of ours, from Mirkwood, he would not take no as an answer from my father. He went to steal his maiden away, but she was guarded by her family…and, in his rage, he killed her father and brothers. He did manage to escape with her, but when they reached the banks of the Anduin, my father sent people out to gather them back. It is a story that I have heard maybe once, and I do vaguely remember it; I do not know how it ends. But…history should not be given the chance to repeat itself."
"But it does, and it will," Erlyannil muttered barely audibly. She was too absorbed in her thoughts, those odd thoughts that had arisen when Legolas mentioned the union of two Elves three hundred years ago…
"Of course it will," he muttered, more to himself than to her. Then, "…I must confess something," Legolas whispered, after a time in which they spun to the melody, apart from the others. Erlyannil drew out of her thoughts and looked at him curiously. They stopped dancing, and Legolas' expression was grave, hopelessness showing in his blue eyes. "I know that it will happen again…it happened long ago, and it happens now with the maiden and Elladin…and now it threatens to happen once more."
Erlyannil's eyes betrayed her bewilderment. "I don't understand," she said.
Legolas said nothing for a time. Erlyannil stared at the trees nearby as the music was brought to a standstill. She brought her gaze to their feet, pondering the meaning of his words. Within moments the lyre struck up another melancholy melody, and a fearful thought occurred to her.
"Aiya ancalima," Erlyannil whispered under her breath. She drew herself away from him so that she did not have to look into his earnest eyes. "Legolas, are you--"
Erlyannil was interrupted by a sudden angry shout from the other side of the grove. She and Legolas turned abruptly, and fell apart from each other as the commotion began.
"You murderer!" an Elven maiden yelled from one of the entrances to the grove. An expression of twisted fury was written on her face, tears flying out of her eyes. In shock, Erlyannil recognized the girl to be Lyndariel's younger sister. Erlyannil's jaw dropped as she heard the girl's accusing words.
"You would dare to marry him! He is kindred of a killer, who killed our father! Lyndariel, listen to me! Our father was killed by these scoundrels, these bastards!!!"
Lyndariel's face was ghost-white in shock. The entire city was watching as Elladin tried to comfort his soon-to-be wife, but Lyndariel pushed him away absent-mindedly. She stepped away and, with a dead look in her eyes, looked about her. Her eyes rested on Erlyannil for a moment before they rolled back into her head and she collapsed to the ground. Elladin was attempting to gather her in his arms and carry her out of the crowd beginning to gather around them to no avail. Celeborn was shouting something above the din of the astonished people, and Galadriel was grasping the arms of her wooden chair with trembling hands.
And then Legolas was suddenly at Erlyannil's side, yelling something at her. But Erlyannil stepped away, memories recalled in her mind, and tears brewing in her eyes. She shook her head incoherently at the bewildered Legolas before racing off past him and disappearing from the grove.
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