Chapter Two: Secrets
Account of Kit
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I could tell he suspected something. It was an unpleasant pleasant feeling, keeping something from a good friend. But I had to keep it to myself. It would hurt him so, to leave him. We had been friends for so long…
If I told him, it would force me to go back home to Mirkwood. I didn't want to go back to the harsh words of my father and the ignorance of my eldest brother, who was undoubtedly king now. But I missed my mother, my fraternal twin, Legolas, and my younger sister, Katessa. They were all royals of Mirkwood. Oh, for one glimpse of their faces….
My father held one of the Lost Seeing Stones, and no one knew it but me and my mother. I could feel his eyes on me at nearly all times. Elves often did not have to sleep. But before I left on my own meanderings, my mother took me aside and made me promise that if I told anyone about who I was, my true blood, that I would have to come home. She gave me a silver necklace that bound me to that promise before I struck off on my own. I had tried to convince Legolas to come with me, but he still loved Mirkwood: the wonderful feasts every night, the secretive darkness, our stars that we would often gaze at, and our family. His words were brave, like that the warrior that he was, but I could see the grieving in his heart: we had shared everything as little ones, from food to secrets. As we grew, he told me of his first kiss and I told him of my growing temper, of how I often snapped at Mother. And as our age increased, and the farther I grew away from the want of attention from my parents, the closer I grew to Legolas. We often went off alone to talk. And that was over two thousand years ago.
I had told Aragorn I was of royal blood, and yes, that was true, but he thought I was from Lothlorien. That was the birthplace of my mother, for she was second daughter of Galadriel, and I knew the Golden Wood well. But it wasn't true. My home was in Mirkwood, where I had lived through one age and a half of pure bliss.
I couldn't help but dwell over this as I slipped out from under my blankets as the sun peaked up from the horizon slowly, turning the sky beautiful shades of lavender and pink. Drawing my faithful rapier, Solomar, I slashed it a few times through the air in both hands to loosen up and then set it back in its sheath. My Uncle Elrond, whom I was related to by marriage, had given it me last time Aragorn and I visited Rivendell. I called to Free mind to mind and a shrill whinny rose over the plains. I winced as Aragorn stirred. I didn't want to wake him so early. But my attention was drawn to my mare as she cantered up, still dressed in cloak and halter, the bit slipped into her mouth. She whickered softly and I smiled, tracing the wide blaze decorating her dished head.
"How was the grazing?" I asked her in Quenya. She replied in Sindarin from her mind to mine:
"Not as good as it would look. A bitter taste to the grass. There must have been sheep here." "Aye, m'dear…aye…"
The sun rose ever higher.
I set to brushing her, to make Free's coat gleam in the early morning sunlight, to make it seem like burning fire. Tying her reins to a nearby oak, I stripped off the silver cloak from her back and set it on the ground, hoping that it wouldn't blow away. Opening one of my saddle bags, I pulled out a small brush and ran it gently over her coat. She rippled her muscles in sleepy pleasure. I began to sing:
Eist le mo chiro,
Go bronach a choich
Ta me cailte gan tu
's do bhean cheile.
An gra mor i do shaoil
Threorai is me.
Bigi liomsa i gconai
La's oich.
The sun was visible as I finished off with her luxuriant tail. As I stepped back to admire my work, I heard Aragorn wake behind me. The song changed:
A clouded dream on an earthly night,
Hangs upon the crescent moon,
A voiceless song in an ageless night,
Sings at the coming dawn.
Birds in flight are calling there,
Where the heart moves the stones.
There my heart is longing for,
All for the love of you….
His gaze was always so intense, I often couldn't comprehend what his emotions were until he spoke, but even then there was only the smallest hint. I turned to face him and I could then see the concern in his eyes, but he soon looked away. I changed the song:
Eureus
Afer Ventus
So the world goes round and round,
With all you ever knew,
They say the sky, high above,
Is Caribbean blue.
If every man says all he can,
If every man is true,
Do I believe the sky above,
Is Caribbean blue.
Boreas
Zephyirus
If all you told was turned to gold,
If all you dreamed was new,
Imagine sky high above,
In Caribbean blue.
Eureus
Afer Ventus
Boreas
Zephyirus
Africus…
But he wasn't satisfied at my change of emotion. He was a good friend, so I knew that he cared. As he stood and transported his rolled up bed roll to one of my larger saddle bags, he glanced over at me more than natural. But hearing his stomach growl, I couldn't help to smile. But as I undid the buckles doing Free's halter to her head and stripped it off, I slipped off into my dwelling again. The desert mare cantered off a few paces to a patch of the rolling landscape that must have looked particularly good to her. He called out my name.
"Aertali?" No response from me.
He tried again. "Kit?"
I shook my head and looked at him. His eyebrows knitted together in worry, but he said nothing in the way of that, and instead asked if I would hunt. I agreed.
Pulling out my birch bow and my quiver, I ran my fingers over the intricate designs and sighed before setting off. The slight clatter of pans was heard as he set to making a fire. Another song came to me:
Now my charms are o'erthrown
And what strength I have's mine own
Which is most faint: now t'is true
I must here be confined by you
But release me from my bands
With the help of your cruel hands
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails…
Which is to please. Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant
And my ending is despair
Unless I be relieved by prayer
Which pierces so that it assaults
Mercy itself and frees all faults
As you from your crimes would pardon'd be
Let your indulgence set me free…
I spoke of the binding charm that my mother held onto. She loved me, yes, but I was grown now. I was never going to stay in Mirkwood forever. Mother knew that as I had said so many times before. Legolas often called me the wind of the family. The wind never stayed in the same spot for more than a few moments, but often returned: this was me, although the time staying was often a night or two. But I was happy as a nomad, and yet my mother still believed that my home was in Mirkwood.
But then the slight rustle of leaves caught my attention.
There were two fat hares, old, and they weren't going to live much longer, even if I wasn't going to shoot them for our breakfast.
Fitting two arrows to my bow and drawing back the bow string, I released. Two short squeals and then silence. I picked to two gray hares up by the hind feet and started to carry them back to camp. A pained scream came to my ears. I started to run, recognizing the soprano of my mare. I had a surprise waiting for me…
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End of Chapter Two
Have question: should Free die? Hosting poll in reviews. I really don't want her to, but I'll consider it if most of the reviewers say yes. BUT I LOVE HORSES!!!!!!!! lol!