The Turn of Fate
Mirilendilme wandered for a couple of days in the woods. Her path veered southward and westward, though she paid little heed to her direction. She walked in a confusion as thoughts and feelings arose in her from all directions. She thought of many things; the Prince and the Greenwood Elves, and of the Darkness seeking dominion over all of Middle-Earth. She thought of her own origins, rooted in Lorien and Eregion; and her thoughts came to her father. Her father! The story of whose torment and death at the hands of the Dark Lord himself would chill the heart of even the most weathered warrior.
She halted in her tracks in the middle of one night at what sounded like laughter. It would sound for but a moment, and then after a long silence it would sound again. Then it stopped. She froze; her wariness having suddenly jumped to its peak. For it was not the chiming laughter of Elves. There was a fell presence lurking in the shadows, and for a moment she wondered if it could be the emissaries of the Dark Lord, that had been reported searching the northern vale of the River Anduin earlier in the season. She strung an arrow to her bow, even though that would not likely hinder the wraiths of mortal men. There was no moon that night, and under the Shadow of Mirkwood at that hour it was difficult even for an Elf to see as far as usual. Then the laughter turned to shouts. Several, hideous cries; calling from one side of her to the other. She turned and ran with all speed back to her Kingdom. For a very long time she ran. And as she darted back through the woods, she wondered if it was simply her presence that had aroused these predators. She halted and listened, wondering if she had yet lost them. For a long moment it was silent, then suddenly she heard the crunch of leaves and branches under heavy feet growing closer. She resumed her flight, reaching the King's halls a few hours before sunrise. Her command opened the gates and she flew in like the wind, bewildering the guards by the door. "Yrch!" she cried. Now with all haste she summoned the guards, and several others in the halls who had heard her cry. There was no time to consult the King, but she set a group to the gates, inside and out, and led the rest of the guards and their captain back out into the woods in the direction she had come from.
Now the hastily assembled company of about sixteen had set out into the woods. After a short spurt of speed back through the forest, she counseled them to spread out and move forward together in a long and spaced-out horizontal line, arched so that they could close a ring more easily if need be, with their arrows strung. Less than a league from the King's halls they met the company of Orcs in this manner, who numbered only about thirty; still too many for Mirilendilme to have faced alone. But this band of Orcs, undoubtedly out of the southern part of the Forest, were still of the lesser breed and had simply been out hunting (though also daring to come so close to the King's borders). They were astonished to suddenly see the organized company of Elves before them. Mirilendilme stood in the line near the Elven Captain. In a panic the Orcs scrambled to ready their weapons. But the Captain gave his signal, and the Elven arrows flew even before the Orcs could string their bows. Half of the Orcs were slain in this way, and the rest fled in dismay.
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When the company arrived home, well after sunrise, everyone was now well aware of what was going on. The King had already mustered a troop before the gates, ready for dispatch. But the Captain counseled that there was no need; for it had been merely a rogue band of hunting Orcs. Still, Mirilendilme, with the Noldorin soldier of her blood that had now been stirred up within her, counseled with haste and passion that the King assign rings of guards to the forest. The first to stand immediately around the halls, and the next two progressively further outward. And lastly to keep outposts off the far reaches of the Kingdom. As she spoke the light grew in her eyes, and the King listened to her in wonder, and to the Captain's faith in her counsel. But he still was reluctant to assign her a position of power, either in the guard or in the court; for many of his people were still wary of her as a child of the Western Elves, and as one not native to their land.
But Mirilendilme understood the King's prudence and was not disappointed or angered. For because of her love of the Prince, and for love of her native lands and because she had recently grown hot over the story of her father's death, she had a desire to partake in the events of the peoples of Middle-Earth against the Shadow of Sauron. Therefore her final counsel was to deploy an embassy to Lorien. And the King agreed, and her mother Melwen knew now that her daughter would not waylay any longer by counsel or force. So she was chosen as ambassador to Lorien. And an embassy of Elves was assembled for her with relative ease; for there were many of like mind to her that had also lost their fathers and forefathers at the Battle of Dagorlad, and wished to go forth from Thranduil's halls into the south.