Chapter 8 - Changing Winds
**
Lavas
August 30 III 3017
And so, Festival has ended. To be politically correct, it ended at the turn of Lavas; but to be truthful, it ended the night our Prince returned with darkened eyes and we had lost two of our own. After that night, nobody felt like dancing and drinking; laughter was a sin and a smile hurt too much. It befits my mood, I think. I have not felt compelled to laugh, not compelled to even smile. Legolas has been gone, still recuperating and avoiding company-thought I know that Vella goes to see him nearly every day. I have only seen him once or twice, from a distance. Vellesta...what am I to write about her? It feels wrong yet I still cannot get over my anger. Neither can she, so, though we do not outwardly fight, there is a still a stone wall that stands between us. Sometimes, I wonder what it is that makes her so mad, for really, I have never seen her this furious for this long. Other times, she is only being catty Vella-the one whose anger needs no explanation.
The dark Ranger is still around. He has his own chambers though I can feel his desperation to be gone. I am working up the nerve to approach him.
Until then,
Avaranthe
**
**
Lavas
September 12 III 3017
I finally saw Legolas today! More frankly, he came to me (beams). I was wrapped up in a text of lore written some hundred years ago about the mining expeditions of the dwarves (written by elves, even I can tell it is terribly biased), when there was a knock on my door. I thought it was Vella and yelled for her to go away, then to my horror, Legolas opened the door and stepped in. I was so happy to see him, I threw the book down and threw myself into his arms. He winced and I was immediately sorry; he's not yet one hundred percent fighting fit. He smiled at me and held me at shoulders lenght, studying me as if seeing me for the first time. He said I'd grown (quote) "beautifully" and that I was "quite the young lady". I only laughed because he's only been gone two months and I haven't really grown at all in two months, though after he left, I did study myself to see if Amethys' earlier comment on my moonlit hair held any truth to it at all.
We sat down, Legolas and I, and for the first time, he spoke to me as he spoke to Vella. Like an adult. From one to another, he actually treated me as if I were his equal; for that, I would do anything for him right now. I spent the rest of the day badgering him from one room to another until Vella told me to "get lost and stop bothering him!". Stupid Vella...she thinks she's all that.
Until then,
Avaranthe
**
**
Lavas
September 22 III 3017
I didn't notice it at first, but Legolas has changed. I can tell by the way he looks at me. Sort of sad-like, as if I will whither away before this eyes, disappear in a cloud of smoke. He's more serious now, to me anyway, does not laugh as he used to. Even when he's with Vella, which is almost all the time, he does not laugh as much as he used to. I can hear them talking (an indistinct murmur) in her chambers next to mine, talking and talking late into the night. When he leaves, I spy on them through a crack in the door and I see Legolas walking away, his expression pained and Vella watching him go, her face blank. I know not what they speak of, for what Legolas speaks to me about has never been what he speaks to Vella about. Sometimes, I am jealous. But at times like these, I do not begrudge her his burden, however selfish that may sound on my part.
The burial and procession for the two deceased elven rangers, Lord Quirathus Leviran and Lord Felowin Wersthire shall be tomorrow. It shall be a sad day indeed.
Until then,
Avaranthe
**
**
Lavas
September 23 III 3017
Early at dawn, the entire Palace rose to sing chants of mourning for their brethren, for those who have suffered death as well as those loved ones left behind. It was a grey day, as if the sun itself knew of our grief and refused to shine. Father came by to collect Vell and I, for we must show up as a family (however much we are not one); he was dressed in dark grey, Vella and I wore black, covered in head to toe with black veils and dress.
The Great Hall had been transformed. Standing there in the crowd as King Thranduil spoke noble words directed at the families who lost their sons, I could not help but reflect on how different the Great Hall seemed; how big and empty without the adornments it usually had. It was but one month before that elves gathered in this very same room, to laugh and to celebrate the joy of life; now, we gather in mourning and something akin to defeat, the proud people of Mirkwood in mourning. After the King's speech, Lord Wersthire, the father of the scout Felowin, spoke moving words. Tears trailed down my face by the end and even though Vella did not cry, she seemed unusually silent. Perhaps she truly does feel; perhaps there is a heart within that stone exterior.
After the eulogies, Father, Vell and I approached the Houses of Leviran and Wersthire to express our lowest condolences and our sadness; Father spoke sweet words and I was glad to be hidden behind a dark veil. The world seemed distorted from within, a dark covering encircling everything, making all that I thought normal look odd and awry. We briefly caught up to Legolas, whose stoic face betrayed the tears inside. He smiled thinly at me, tugging at my veil; then he and Vella grasped hands as comrades would and I knew that something had transpired between them. I ran into Ilaya during the Procession, as the gold-laid pendants of Quirathus Leviran and Felowin Wersthire were carried solemnly towards their graves, that small area where elves who face death are commemorated. Ilaya was in tears, close to wails actually. It was later that I realized that Felowin was her cousin and that I'd remembered them playing together as children. I regretted my initial coolness.
From behind my mantle, it's easy to pretend that I walk a nightmare. Some surreal dream of the arcane that makes emotions alive and pain visible. Everyone I met had a look of profound confusion int heir eyes, as if they too could not believe death possible. Not for us, not fur the elves. Not for the chosen children of Middle-Earth. And yet, what better evidence that death escapes none than the missing bodies of our dear brothers and sons, their heroic pendants sailing high upon the tallest tower; a shout out to the world of their brave deeds.
After the sad farewell to the elves who had fallen, the court dispersed, most drifting here and there seeking comfort and solitude among others. It did not feel right to return to my rooms so I wandered out into the gardens where I had not been since the night I fell from the graces of Amethys-the-great. While others whispered softly to their companions, I walked alone in thought and pretended to be the ice queen that Vella was. TO my surprise, it was easier than it looked and it felt....good. Very good. Too good. Perhaps I have found the reason for Vella's mischief for within my locked heart, I too could be cruel.
While I wandered, I hummed ancient lyrical ballads that I'd heard as a child at court. Wrapped up in my own dreams and surreal visions, I stumbled into a small grove off to the side. To my surprise, I found Legolas there, sitting alone and staring into the grey sky. He smiled wanly though I knew his thoughts to be thousand miles away. He gestured beside him on the stone bench and I sat obligingly.
We sat in silence as the invisible sun rose to its zenith, and then fell back down to nightfall. When a small drop of rain hit my cheek, I turned to Legolas and asked what had been on my mind since the very beginning.
"Will you be alright?" I asked, really meaning: would he go back to being the fun-loving friend and older brother I'd always loved? Every moments during these grey weeks, I wished for the prince to snap out of his dark mood and laugh. I did not realize I was holding my breath for his laughter until he actually did laugh, right there in the garden as the rain began to come down in hard pelts. He pulled me in, one arm around my shoulders and hugged me tightly.
"Oh Avie...you do not know the least of it. And yet, I would never wish it upon you, not ever."
I turned, gazing up at him. The Prince is about a head taller than me, though from under the crook of his arm, I realized that his earlier comment about me having grown might be true. Perhaps only because it had been so long since I'd actually taken the time to notice. I closed my eyes and for a brief moment, burrowed into his soft embrace and pretended things were alright.
"I want everything to stay the same." I said softly, my voice muffled by his dark tunic. I played with the soft strands of blonde hair that hung down his back, comparing its light strands with my own. His hair is golden, the sort of golden blonde that everyone wants but not everyone gets. Next to his, my own blondeness is a pale comparison, a sheet of pure white with hints of yellow taints.
"As do I, Ava. I would never wish change upon our little kingdom of Mirkwood."
I smiled, liking how he said 'our kingdom' rather than 'my kingdom'. It made me feel wanted and important. The rain was coming down pretty hard by then but he didn't make any move to leave so neither did I. He turned to me and, in a sudden change of topic, asked me,
"Are you and Vell on ill-terms?" I could hear the silent 'again' in his voice.
I glanced away, not wanting to talk of Vella. Legolas smiled wryly, his first real smile.
"You two never cease to amaze me."
"What?!" That I, boring quiet mousy Ava, amaze anybody, is a shock. That I amaze the very Prince of Mirkwood....now that, I do not believe. I laughed, almost forgetting the sad occasion that brought us together.
"You love each other so dearly, yet you treat each other so horribly." I snorted. The Prince shook his head, "Did you know that Vella used to sing you to sleep each night? Because you used to have those nightmares; she used to stay up each night next to you and hold your hand when you cried out."
I flushed, shuddering at the remembrance of the awful dreams that had plagued me for sometime.
"She is horrible!" I retorted, though it sounded childish even to my own ears. "She....she-!"
"I know, Ave, she's impossible." Legolas squeezed my shoulders. "She's nosy and loud, immature and caustic. She's absolutely stubborn and rowdy-she's everything you are not. And that, my little Ave, is why you two are so amazing."
I gazed up at the Prince, feeling something in my heart turn. Legolas smiled, leaning back and pulling me with him so that the bulk of the showers passed right before us.
"Two moons, Ava. There is the white moon of day and the stormy moon of night. Who is to say one is better; who is to compare the love between them?"
I didn't realize I had been holding my breath until I gasped and nearly suffocated.
Have you ever looked at something your entire life and known it to be true, only to realize that the whole time, you never once saw what was before you? Have you ever known something your entire life only to figure that that which you know is something else altogether? That is how I looked at Legolas at that moment. He was this star, this radiant energy that I had felt my entire life and yet had never before known to be there. He was sudenly beautiful in my eyes; not only my friend, my brother, my Prince...but also this beautiful handsome Prince who sat before me and told me with more sincerity than I had ever known to be true, that I was amazing. Me, Avaranthe, amazing.
It was so beautiful; he was so beautiful. Everything was so beautiful and at that moment, I could not find my breath. Was it wrong to fall in love, underneath a crying tree, on the day two of your own are buried? Is it wrong to fall in love with the one who has always loved you-the one who will never love you? Is it so wrong?
He has always been my Prince. He has always been my friend. He has always been my brother. Can he not be my love?
As he walked away through the rain, he turned once and smiled, that dazzling half-grin that I have always associated with love and acceptance. I realized at that moment that all the love and romance I had been searching for my entire life had been right there in front of me the entire time/
I set out this day to mourn the lost. Instead, I found love. Of course, this love shall remain in only me, for if it should get out, it would be the end of me for sure.
Until then,
Avaranthe
**
**
Lavas
October 19 III 3017
As if the very world around us senses a deepening darkness, it too has folded into blistering winds and blowing snow. It is early still and yet the forest around us has become dead and silent. Each day is marked in passing only by the chapters I have read and the pages I write in this journal. And yet, even writing has become difficult for there is so little to document.
Legolas has disappeared again, and yet I do not miss his presence. Ever since struck by cupid's arrow, I find his presence disconcerting and unfulfilling. I fear I have lost a brother and a friend, and, in hopes of achieving too much, have lost everything. There is an ant that itches my mind telling me that Legolas spends his days with Vella, that they are lovers already, that she has stolen both my life and my love. These whispering that I know are evil persist and I am afraid that in this terrible process of love and loss, I will lose as well, a sister.
Until then,
Avaranthe
**
**
Firith
November 15 III 3017
And still nothing happens. And still this love that has afflicted me infests and turns into deep, dark longing; the longing of the pitied and the desolate. And still, Vella has yet to speak a single word to me. The anger that so inflamed me after Festival has dwindled down to a small fire, and then even smaller still to but a spark. Yet, her anger still consumes and I dare not speak to her lest I enrage her further.
The snows bury the Palace and all that surrounds us is white and heavy with cold and frost. It is like an island separate from the real world; adrift and afloat in dream. Each day passes onto the next like waves upon a shore, a soft comforting familiarity that makes one dull and unresponsive. I find myself sleeping away the days, often unwilling to even rise from bed. To see the Prince is a pain so sweet and undefined, I cannot bear it-so I stay away from court and pretend to be dead. When he knocks, I do not respond. When he enters, I pretend to be asleep. And yet, as he leaves, I long to call out and shout my love to him. To my prince. To Legolas.
What is this evil that has cursed me? I beg for it to retract it deadly arrows from my bleeding heart. I beg to be returned to the innocence I once knew.
Until then,
Avaranthe
**
**
Lavas
August 30 III 3017
And so, Festival has ended. To be politically correct, it ended at the turn of Lavas; but to be truthful, it ended the night our Prince returned with darkened eyes and we had lost two of our own. After that night, nobody felt like dancing and drinking; laughter was a sin and a smile hurt too much. It befits my mood, I think. I have not felt compelled to laugh, not compelled to even smile. Legolas has been gone, still recuperating and avoiding company-thought I know that Vella goes to see him nearly every day. I have only seen him once or twice, from a distance. Vellesta...what am I to write about her? It feels wrong yet I still cannot get over my anger. Neither can she, so, though we do not outwardly fight, there is a still a stone wall that stands between us. Sometimes, I wonder what it is that makes her so mad, for really, I have never seen her this furious for this long. Other times, she is only being catty Vella-the one whose anger needs no explanation.
The dark Ranger is still around. He has his own chambers though I can feel his desperation to be gone. I am working up the nerve to approach him.
Until then,
Avaranthe
**
**
Lavas
September 12 III 3017
I finally saw Legolas today! More frankly, he came to me (beams). I was wrapped up in a text of lore written some hundred years ago about the mining expeditions of the dwarves (written by elves, even I can tell it is terribly biased), when there was a knock on my door. I thought it was Vella and yelled for her to go away, then to my horror, Legolas opened the door and stepped in. I was so happy to see him, I threw the book down and threw myself into his arms. He winced and I was immediately sorry; he's not yet one hundred percent fighting fit. He smiled at me and held me at shoulders lenght, studying me as if seeing me for the first time. He said I'd grown (quote) "beautifully" and that I was "quite the young lady". I only laughed because he's only been gone two months and I haven't really grown at all in two months, though after he left, I did study myself to see if Amethys' earlier comment on my moonlit hair held any truth to it at all.
We sat down, Legolas and I, and for the first time, he spoke to me as he spoke to Vella. Like an adult. From one to another, he actually treated me as if I were his equal; for that, I would do anything for him right now. I spent the rest of the day badgering him from one room to another until Vella told me to "get lost and stop bothering him!". Stupid Vella...she thinks she's all that.
Until then,
Avaranthe
**
**
Lavas
September 22 III 3017
I didn't notice it at first, but Legolas has changed. I can tell by the way he looks at me. Sort of sad-like, as if I will whither away before this eyes, disappear in a cloud of smoke. He's more serious now, to me anyway, does not laugh as he used to. Even when he's with Vella, which is almost all the time, he does not laugh as much as he used to. I can hear them talking (an indistinct murmur) in her chambers next to mine, talking and talking late into the night. When he leaves, I spy on them through a crack in the door and I see Legolas walking away, his expression pained and Vella watching him go, her face blank. I know not what they speak of, for what Legolas speaks to me about has never been what he speaks to Vella about. Sometimes, I am jealous. But at times like these, I do not begrudge her his burden, however selfish that may sound on my part.
The burial and procession for the two deceased elven rangers, Lord Quirathus Leviran and Lord Felowin Wersthire shall be tomorrow. It shall be a sad day indeed.
Until then,
Avaranthe
**
**
Lavas
September 23 III 3017
Early at dawn, the entire Palace rose to sing chants of mourning for their brethren, for those who have suffered death as well as those loved ones left behind. It was a grey day, as if the sun itself knew of our grief and refused to shine. Father came by to collect Vell and I, for we must show up as a family (however much we are not one); he was dressed in dark grey, Vella and I wore black, covered in head to toe with black veils and dress.
The Great Hall had been transformed. Standing there in the crowd as King Thranduil spoke noble words directed at the families who lost their sons, I could not help but reflect on how different the Great Hall seemed; how big and empty without the adornments it usually had. It was but one month before that elves gathered in this very same room, to laugh and to celebrate the joy of life; now, we gather in mourning and something akin to defeat, the proud people of Mirkwood in mourning. After the King's speech, Lord Wersthire, the father of the scout Felowin, spoke moving words. Tears trailed down my face by the end and even though Vella did not cry, she seemed unusually silent. Perhaps she truly does feel; perhaps there is a heart within that stone exterior.
After the eulogies, Father, Vell and I approached the Houses of Leviran and Wersthire to express our lowest condolences and our sadness; Father spoke sweet words and I was glad to be hidden behind a dark veil. The world seemed distorted from within, a dark covering encircling everything, making all that I thought normal look odd and awry. We briefly caught up to Legolas, whose stoic face betrayed the tears inside. He smiled thinly at me, tugging at my veil; then he and Vella grasped hands as comrades would and I knew that something had transpired between them. I ran into Ilaya during the Procession, as the gold-laid pendants of Quirathus Leviran and Felowin Wersthire were carried solemnly towards their graves, that small area where elves who face death are commemorated. Ilaya was in tears, close to wails actually. It was later that I realized that Felowin was her cousin and that I'd remembered them playing together as children. I regretted my initial coolness.
From behind my mantle, it's easy to pretend that I walk a nightmare. Some surreal dream of the arcane that makes emotions alive and pain visible. Everyone I met had a look of profound confusion int heir eyes, as if they too could not believe death possible. Not for us, not fur the elves. Not for the chosen children of Middle-Earth. And yet, what better evidence that death escapes none than the missing bodies of our dear brothers and sons, their heroic pendants sailing high upon the tallest tower; a shout out to the world of their brave deeds.
After the sad farewell to the elves who had fallen, the court dispersed, most drifting here and there seeking comfort and solitude among others. It did not feel right to return to my rooms so I wandered out into the gardens where I had not been since the night I fell from the graces of Amethys-the-great. While others whispered softly to their companions, I walked alone in thought and pretended to be the ice queen that Vella was. TO my surprise, it was easier than it looked and it felt....good. Very good. Too good. Perhaps I have found the reason for Vella's mischief for within my locked heart, I too could be cruel.
While I wandered, I hummed ancient lyrical ballads that I'd heard as a child at court. Wrapped up in my own dreams and surreal visions, I stumbled into a small grove off to the side. To my surprise, I found Legolas there, sitting alone and staring into the grey sky. He smiled wanly though I knew his thoughts to be thousand miles away. He gestured beside him on the stone bench and I sat obligingly.
We sat in silence as the invisible sun rose to its zenith, and then fell back down to nightfall. When a small drop of rain hit my cheek, I turned to Legolas and asked what had been on my mind since the very beginning.
"Will you be alright?" I asked, really meaning: would he go back to being the fun-loving friend and older brother I'd always loved? Every moments during these grey weeks, I wished for the prince to snap out of his dark mood and laugh. I did not realize I was holding my breath for his laughter until he actually did laugh, right there in the garden as the rain began to come down in hard pelts. He pulled me in, one arm around my shoulders and hugged me tightly.
"Oh Avie...you do not know the least of it. And yet, I would never wish it upon you, not ever."
I turned, gazing up at him. The Prince is about a head taller than me, though from under the crook of his arm, I realized that his earlier comment about me having grown might be true. Perhaps only because it had been so long since I'd actually taken the time to notice. I closed my eyes and for a brief moment, burrowed into his soft embrace and pretended things were alright.
"I want everything to stay the same." I said softly, my voice muffled by his dark tunic. I played with the soft strands of blonde hair that hung down his back, comparing its light strands with my own. His hair is golden, the sort of golden blonde that everyone wants but not everyone gets. Next to his, my own blondeness is a pale comparison, a sheet of pure white with hints of yellow taints.
"As do I, Ava. I would never wish change upon our little kingdom of Mirkwood."
I smiled, liking how he said 'our kingdom' rather than 'my kingdom'. It made me feel wanted and important. The rain was coming down pretty hard by then but he didn't make any move to leave so neither did I. He turned to me and, in a sudden change of topic, asked me,
"Are you and Vell on ill-terms?" I could hear the silent 'again' in his voice.
I glanced away, not wanting to talk of Vella. Legolas smiled wryly, his first real smile.
"You two never cease to amaze me."
"What?!" That I, boring quiet mousy Ava, amaze anybody, is a shock. That I amaze the very Prince of Mirkwood....now that, I do not believe. I laughed, almost forgetting the sad occasion that brought us together.
"You love each other so dearly, yet you treat each other so horribly." I snorted. The Prince shook his head, "Did you know that Vella used to sing you to sleep each night? Because you used to have those nightmares; she used to stay up each night next to you and hold your hand when you cried out."
I flushed, shuddering at the remembrance of the awful dreams that had plagued me for sometime.
"She is horrible!" I retorted, though it sounded childish even to my own ears. "She....she-!"
"I know, Ave, she's impossible." Legolas squeezed my shoulders. "She's nosy and loud, immature and caustic. She's absolutely stubborn and rowdy-she's everything you are not. And that, my little Ave, is why you two are so amazing."
I gazed up at the Prince, feeling something in my heart turn. Legolas smiled, leaning back and pulling me with him so that the bulk of the showers passed right before us.
"Two moons, Ava. There is the white moon of day and the stormy moon of night. Who is to say one is better; who is to compare the love between them?"
I didn't realize I had been holding my breath until I gasped and nearly suffocated.
Have you ever looked at something your entire life and known it to be true, only to realize that the whole time, you never once saw what was before you? Have you ever known something your entire life only to figure that that which you know is something else altogether? That is how I looked at Legolas at that moment. He was this star, this radiant energy that I had felt my entire life and yet had never before known to be there. He was sudenly beautiful in my eyes; not only my friend, my brother, my Prince...but also this beautiful handsome Prince who sat before me and told me with more sincerity than I had ever known to be true, that I was amazing. Me, Avaranthe, amazing.
It was so beautiful; he was so beautiful. Everything was so beautiful and at that moment, I could not find my breath. Was it wrong to fall in love, underneath a crying tree, on the day two of your own are buried? Is it wrong to fall in love with the one who has always loved you-the one who will never love you? Is it so wrong?
He has always been my Prince. He has always been my friend. He has always been my brother. Can he not be my love?
As he walked away through the rain, he turned once and smiled, that dazzling half-grin that I have always associated with love and acceptance. I realized at that moment that all the love and romance I had been searching for my entire life had been right there in front of me the entire time/
I set out this day to mourn the lost. Instead, I found love. Of course, this love shall remain in only me, for if it should get out, it would be the end of me for sure.
Until then,
Avaranthe
**
**
Lavas
October 19 III 3017
As if the very world around us senses a deepening darkness, it too has folded into blistering winds and blowing snow. It is early still and yet the forest around us has become dead and silent. Each day is marked in passing only by the chapters I have read and the pages I write in this journal. And yet, even writing has become difficult for there is so little to document.
Legolas has disappeared again, and yet I do not miss his presence. Ever since struck by cupid's arrow, I find his presence disconcerting and unfulfilling. I fear I have lost a brother and a friend, and, in hopes of achieving too much, have lost everything. There is an ant that itches my mind telling me that Legolas spends his days with Vella, that they are lovers already, that she has stolen both my life and my love. These whispering that I know are evil persist and I am afraid that in this terrible process of love and loss, I will lose as well, a sister.
Until then,
Avaranthe
**
**
Firith
November 15 III 3017
And still nothing happens. And still this love that has afflicted me infests and turns into deep, dark longing; the longing of the pitied and the desolate. And still, Vella has yet to speak a single word to me. The anger that so inflamed me after Festival has dwindled down to a small fire, and then even smaller still to but a spark. Yet, her anger still consumes and I dare not speak to her lest I enrage her further.
The snows bury the Palace and all that surrounds us is white and heavy with cold and frost. It is like an island separate from the real world; adrift and afloat in dream. Each day passes onto the next like waves upon a shore, a soft comforting familiarity that makes one dull and unresponsive. I find myself sleeping away the days, often unwilling to even rise from bed. To see the Prince is a pain so sweet and undefined, I cannot bear it-so I stay away from court and pretend to be dead. When he knocks, I do not respond. When he enters, I pretend to be asleep. And yet, as he leaves, I long to call out and shout my love to him. To my prince. To Legolas.
What is this evil that has cursed me? I beg for it to retract it deadly arrows from my bleeding heart. I beg to be returned to the innocence I once knew.
Until then,
Avaranthe
**
