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)
44.
Elenath steeled herself against the coming scorn of the King of Mirkwood as the hoof beats drew nearer. From the sound of it, he was riding into Rivendell as if chased by the giant spiders of his realm. She looked up at Legolas who gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Do not be afraid, my love. He is but my father."
She watched the gate as King Thranduil galloped into the courtyard and pulled his horse to a quick stop. A tiny smile played upon her lips when she saw that he was just as beautiful and fierce as his son, only a bit broader in the face and shoulders. He had the light eyes and golden hair common to the Elves of Mirkwood. Only the tiny wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and the air of mature wisdom that surrounded him betrayed his age. The king surveyed the scene as he dismounted, a look of pure exhaustion and worry heavy upon his brow until his eyes landed upon the painting. Only then did he allow himself to smile, looking from the canvas to his son and the princess at his side.
"An exquisite portrait, is it not, King Thranduil?" Elrond approached the king with a nod. "Welcome, my old friend, to Rivendell."
"Indeed," spoke Thranduil, his voice as deep and commanding as it was musical. "And thank you. Long has it been since I beheld your fair realm. I see that my son is well."
"I am, Father." Legolas approached with Elenath at his side, bowing and then sharing a short embrace with Thranduil. "Though I have missed you greatly and desire to hear all of the news from Mirkwood."
Elenath waited, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. She did not feel well. Not well at all, but when Legolas' father turned his gaze upon her, she sank into a low, formal curtsy. "Your Highness." Her mouth would barely form the words.
"This is my granddaughter, Elenath," explained Elrond with a fond gesture toward her. "My pride and joy."
The king's voice seemed to soften then. "I can see why, Lord Elrond. Please rise, Child. Let me look at you."
She complied, meeting a gaze that was more kind than fierce.
His touch was extremely gentle as he took her chin in his hand. "She has the look of her grandmother. And the heart, too, if the painting is any indication. It is no surprise that she has so thoroughly stolen my son's heart."
The painting. Elenath glanced over at it and was amazed. The artist had painted the two Elf-maidens in all of their finery, welcoming the two weary warriors home. In the image Merethiel smiled shyly at Haldir while Elenath offered Legolas a ripe red apple. Calmakil lay glittering brilliantly at her side; however it did not come close to rivaling the love that shone brightly in all of their eyes. Elenath unconsciously reached for Legolas' hand as she gazed at the masterpiece. When she finally tore her gaze away, she realized that both Elrond and Thranduil were watching them carefully, already deep in conversation. Yet the king's shoulders were heavy with weariness and his companions still sat patiently upon their horses, awaiting their master's command. Their apparent unease and discomfort in their new surroundings endeared the party to Elenath's heart, and she smiled with a confidence she did not know she possessed.
"Please," Elenath spoke directly to the king; then allowed her gaze to meet those of his companions. "You must be weary from your journey, My Lords. Come, partake of some refreshment at our table while your chambers are prepared. There will be plenty for all who have gathered here this night."
As they adjourned to the banquet hall, Elenath smiled for she had never seen her grandfather gaze upon her with such pride. Nor could she see any trace of enmity in the king's eyes as he came up beside her and whispered, "Where is the fierce warrioress that my advisors so sternly warned me against?"
She did not hesitate in her reply. "She has laid aside her Sword for this one night, out of love for your son, O King."
He smiled kindly at her, dreading the request that he would present to Lord Elrond at the start of the council. If the princess wished to wed his son, she would have to lay aside her Sword for much longer than just one night.
***
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)
44.
Elenath steeled herself against the coming scorn of the King of Mirkwood as the hoof beats drew nearer. From the sound of it, he was riding into Rivendell as if chased by the giant spiders of his realm. She looked up at Legolas who gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Do not be afraid, my love. He is but my father."
She watched the gate as King Thranduil galloped into the courtyard and pulled his horse to a quick stop. A tiny smile played upon her lips when she saw that he was just as beautiful and fierce as his son, only a bit broader in the face and shoulders. He had the light eyes and golden hair common to the Elves of Mirkwood. Only the tiny wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and the air of mature wisdom that surrounded him betrayed his age. The king surveyed the scene as he dismounted, a look of pure exhaustion and worry heavy upon his brow until his eyes landed upon the painting. Only then did he allow himself to smile, looking from the canvas to his son and the princess at his side.
"An exquisite portrait, is it not, King Thranduil?" Elrond approached the king with a nod. "Welcome, my old friend, to Rivendell."
"Indeed," spoke Thranduil, his voice as deep and commanding as it was musical. "And thank you. Long has it been since I beheld your fair realm. I see that my son is well."
"I am, Father." Legolas approached with Elenath at his side, bowing and then sharing a short embrace with Thranduil. "Though I have missed you greatly and desire to hear all of the news from Mirkwood."
Elenath waited, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. She did not feel well. Not well at all, but when Legolas' father turned his gaze upon her, she sank into a low, formal curtsy. "Your Highness." Her mouth would barely form the words.
"This is my granddaughter, Elenath," explained Elrond with a fond gesture toward her. "My pride and joy."
The king's voice seemed to soften then. "I can see why, Lord Elrond. Please rise, Child. Let me look at you."
She complied, meeting a gaze that was more kind than fierce.
His touch was extremely gentle as he took her chin in his hand. "She has the look of her grandmother. And the heart, too, if the painting is any indication. It is no surprise that she has so thoroughly stolen my son's heart."
The painting. Elenath glanced over at it and was amazed. The artist had painted the two Elf-maidens in all of their finery, welcoming the two weary warriors home. In the image Merethiel smiled shyly at Haldir while Elenath offered Legolas a ripe red apple. Calmakil lay glittering brilliantly at her side; however it did not come close to rivaling the love that shone brightly in all of their eyes. Elenath unconsciously reached for Legolas' hand as she gazed at the masterpiece. When she finally tore her gaze away, she realized that both Elrond and Thranduil were watching them carefully, already deep in conversation. Yet the king's shoulders were heavy with weariness and his companions still sat patiently upon their horses, awaiting their master's command. Their apparent unease and discomfort in their new surroundings endeared the party to Elenath's heart, and she smiled with a confidence she did not know she possessed.
"Please," Elenath spoke directly to the king; then allowed her gaze to meet those of his companions. "You must be weary from your journey, My Lords. Come, partake of some refreshment at our table while your chambers are prepared. There will be plenty for all who have gathered here this night."
As they adjourned to the banquet hall, Elenath smiled for she had never seen her grandfather gaze upon her with such pride. Nor could she see any trace of enmity in the king's eyes as he came up beside her and whispered, "Where is the fierce warrioress that my advisors so sternly warned me against?"
She did not hesitate in her reply. "She has laid aside her Sword for this one night, out of love for your son, O King."
He smiled kindly at her, dreading the request that he would present to Lord Elrond at the start of the council. If the princess wished to wed his son, she would have to lay aside her Sword for much longer than just one night.
***
