RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: The characters from Lord of the Rings and their wonderful world are borrowed from J.R.R. Tolkien. The plotline and all other characters are copyright 2002 Emily (emi_kins@yahoo.com)
5.
"It did not go well," said Lord Elrond as he gazed at his granddaughter. "I heard her protests all the way out here." The two of them sat on a bench in one of his many gardens.
Elenath gently took her grandfather's hand. "It is as I feared, Grandfather. Merethiel is not at all pleased."
"The Prince of Mirkwood will arrive tomorrow afternoon. What will we tell him when he appears? There is much at stake here, Elenath. Our two kingdoms must put their differences aside. A Royal Marriage is the ideal way to begin such a process."
I will marry him, she thought, surprising herself. What on earth had gotten into her? She had only met him once, after all! Shaking her head more at herself than anything else, she said, "Merethiel has agreed to give him a chance, and I will ride out with Thorondil on the morrow to ensure his safe arrival. Please, Grandfather, do not worry. These things always have a way of working themselves out."
***
The next morning found Elenath riding next to her uncle, her hand upon the hilt of Calmakil. The day had been eventless until the prince arrived with his guards and a small band of Orcs had attacked. She had watched with great admiration as Thorondil adeptly nocked arrow after arrow to his bowstring, picking off the horrid, slimy creatures one at a time before battle was even joined with the contingent from Mirkwood. It made her wish that she had paid more attention to her archery lessons, though she had shown no talent for it at all. So mediocre was she that she had eventually put her bow aside altogether in favor of the sword.
As was the custom, the two warriors had remained hidden from their guests, though the prince cast a careful gaze about him, nodding his thanks in the direction from which the arrows had come. As he did so, Elenath tried to still her rapidly beating heart. What was it about the Prince of Mirkwood that affected her so? She shook her head again as they silently followed their guests to the borders of Rivendell and then turned back to make sure there were no more Orcs nearby.
***
The sun had sunk low in the West when the putrid smell of the enemy greeted the nostrils of the two scouting warriors once more. There were indeed orcs nearby – the hideous beasts. Why had they come so near to Rivendell? Even before she smelled them, Elenath could sense their presence through the Sword. It practically quivered in her hand as if eager to slay them.
"They are many," whispered her uncle. "We should flee now and come back with reinforcements when they do not expect it."
The words were no sooner spoken than the orcs attacked them from all sides. Calmakil sang in its metallic voice as Elenath drew the Blade and began to slash viciously at the creatures, burning pain exploding across her left shoulder as one of their blades met her flesh. Spinning about on her horse, she slew the one that wounded her and then bolted into the wood toward Elrond's palace after Thorondil, leaving the wretched beasts far behind.
The princess knew her wound was grave, for the blade that had pierced her had glinted with Orkish poison. She also knew that she had little time to reach her grandfather who could counter the effects. Concentrating on what he had taught her, she continued to ride hard as she softly sang the healing chants to herself, thereby warding off the deadly bite of the poison a little longer.
Fifteen minutes later, the she-Elf stumbled into the palace and headed straight for the door of the throne room where three unfamiliar guards from Mirkwood stood watch along with the regular two. All five moved quickly to stop her. "I am sorry, Princess," said one, "But you may not pass."
"I must see my grandfather," she said. Her voice sounded strange; her words slightly slurred.
"He holds audience with the Prince of Mirkwood, and he asked that the meeting not be disturbed."
A look of pain clouded the princess' face for a brief moment. "This is important," she said through clenched teeth as she continued to clutch her shoulder beneath her cloak. Grave though her wound was, she did not desire to make it public knowledge. She had her reputation to keep up, after all, and did not want to be seen as a week female – especially by Dimnarion who regarded her with a hostile sneer on his face.
"Princess?" asked the guard, stepping forward to pull back the heavy woolen garment. "You are wounded!"
She sighed in frustration. "Yes. I command that you let me pass."
Without another word, he picked her up in strong arms and burst through the throne room door despite the protests of Legolas' guards and the princess herself.
DISCLAIMER: The characters from Lord of the Rings and their wonderful world are borrowed from J.R.R. Tolkien. The plotline and all other characters are copyright 2002 Emily (emi_kins@yahoo.com)
5.
"It did not go well," said Lord Elrond as he gazed at his granddaughter. "I heard her protests all the way out here." The two of them sat on a bench in one of his many gardens.
Elenath gently took her grandfather's hand. "It is as I feared, Grandfather. Merethiel is not at all pleased."
"The Prince of Mirkwood will arrive tomorrow afternoon. What will we tell him when he appears? There is much at stake here, Elenath. Our two kingdoms must put their differences aside. A Royal Marriage is the ideal way to begin such a process."
I will marry him, she thought, surprising herself. What on earth had gotten into her? She had only met him once, after all! Shaking her head more at herself than anything else, she said, "Merethiel has agreed to give him a chance, and I will ride out with Thorondil on the morrow to ensure his safe arrival. Please, Grandfather, do not worry. These things always have a way of working themselves out."
***
The next morning found Elenath riding next to her uncle, her hand upon the hilt of Calmakil. The day had been eventless until the prince arrived with his guards and a small band of Orcs had attacked. She had watched with great admiration as Thorondil adeptly nocked arrow after arrow to his bowstring, picking off the horrid, slimy creatures one at a time before battle was even joined with the contingent from Mirkwood. It made her wish that she had paid more attention to her archery lessons, though she had shown no talent for it at all. So mediocre was she that she had eventually put her bow aside altogether in favor of the sword.
As was the custom, the two warriors had remained hidden from their guests, though the prince cast a careful gaze about him, nodding his thanks in the direction from which the arrows had come. As he did so, Elenath tried to still her rapidly beating heart. What was it about the Prince of Mirkwood that affected her so? She shook her head again as they silently followed their guests to the borders of Rivendell and then turned back to make sure there were no more Orcs nearby.
***
The sun had sunk low in the West when the putrid smell of the enemy greeted the nostrils of the two scouting warriors once more. There were indeed orcs nearby – the hideous beasts. Why had they come so near to Rivendell? Even before she smelled them, Elenath could sense their presence through the Sword. It practically quivered in her hand as if eager to slay them.
"They are many," whispered her uncle. "We should flee now and come back with reinforcements when they do not expect it."
The words were no sooner spoken than the orcs attacked them from all sides. Calmakil sang in its metallic voice as Elenath drew the Blade and began to slash viciously at the creatures, burning pain exploding across her left shoulder as one of their blades met her flesh. Spinning about on her horse, she slew the one that wounded her and then bolted into the wood toward Elrond's palace after Thorondil, leaving the wretched beasts far behind.
The princess knew her wound was grave, for the blade that had pierced her had glinted with Orkish poison. She also knew that she had little time to reach her grandfather who could counter the effects. Concentrating on what he had taught her, she continued to ride hard as she softly sang the healing chants to herself, thereby warding off the deadly bite of the poison a little longer.
Fifteen minutes later, the she-Elf stumbled into the palace and headed straight for the door of the throne room where three unfamiliar guards from Mirkwood stood watch along with the regular two. All five moved quickly to stop her. "I am sorry, Princess," said one, "But you may not pass."
"I must see my grandfather," she said. Her voice sounded strange; her words slightly slurred.
"He holds audience with the Prince of Mirkwood, and he asked that the meeting not be disturbed."
A look of pain clouded the princess' face for a brief moment. "This is important," she said through clenched teeth as she continued to clutch her shoulder beneath her cloak. Grave though her wound was, she did not desire to make it public knowledge. She had her reputation to keep up, after all, and did not want to be seen as a week female – especially by Dimnarion who regarded her with a hostile sneer on his face.
"Princess?" asked the guard, stepping forward to pull back the heavy woolen garment. "You are wounded!"
She sighed in frustration. "Yes. I command that you let me pass."
Without another word, he picked her up in strong arms and burst through the throne room door despite the protests of Legolas' guards and the princess herself.
