*Note: As always, any corrections in grammar or matters relating to
Tolkien's world would be welcome. Ideas and suggestions, too. Thanks.
*Yupyup, I'm working on this as fast as I can. It's going to be a long tale...no Legolas as of yet, but let me assure you...he's coming....wink
Chapter Two
No more was said of the dismal topic until they stood in front of the Lord Elrond, ruler of Rivendell. Upon seeing them enter Elrond stood, left the gathering of noblemen and courtiers that were assembled in the room, and greeted Mikhaella with a genuinely welcoming smile on his ageless face.
"Meneg suilad, Mikhaella," he said, extending his hands and kissing her cheek in the fashion of the Court. Grave he seemed, and as wise as always; he was revered by both men and elves alike, and his name was legend throughout these parts. Mikhaella looked on him like she would a second father, and she admired him mightily.
"Meneg suilad, my Lord Elrond," she said with her eyes downcast, the picture of maidenly propriety. Elrond looked at her, pleased."You have bloomed during the time you've stayed away," he said, embracing her,"T'was a girl who left us and a woman who returns...an accomplished and beautiful young woman." There was pride in his voice, and Arwen smiled in agreement.
Mikhaella laughed. "One hundred and fifty-two springs have passed, yet I see that your tongue is still as sweet as ever, my lord." Then she said, more seriously, "It was good of you to allow me to stay here, and it is good to see you."
Elrond smiled, "Well, I am sure that the two of you have a lot of catching up to do," he said, turning back to the council that he had left so abruptly,"I have to finish up some business. Excuse me for now. I shall see you both again at supper." Arwen and Mikhaella murmured their farewells to him and departed, looking at each other with girlish delight.
Elrond paused a moment before going back to the council, gazing after his daughter and the princess of Imladriel as they walked away hand-in-hand. He smiled. Truly, it did Arwen a lot of good, he thought. Arwen was too headstrong; someday she would get into trouble with all her ideas of leaving Rivendell to aid the other races in their fight against the darkness that was arising from Mordor. The Elves of Rivendell could not help them anymore than they already have. Mikhaella could use this time in Rivendell to heal...for she had taken the fall of her home to heart. Elrond could sense the turmoil in her despite her outer facade of calm. She was hurting inside, as was his daughter. Arwen was in turmoil too. Arwen needed Mikhaella to keep her preoccupied, from going nearly mad with the knowledge that Rivendell was near helpless in assisting the troubled land in these dark times. She did not understand...what could Rivendell do? Interfere in matters that did not concern them? Besides, Elrond's hands were tied. His responsibility was for his people and for Rivendell alone.
How little he knew that all that was going to change...
_______________________________________________________________________
Mikhaella and Arwen, meanwhile, strolled slowly through the marble passages of the last homely house. The air was warm and carried the scents of fresh greens and flowers. The sun shone gently on the valley of Rivendell, and no darkness had descended upon its green majesty as of yet. It was as if spring and the freshness of all things living and not resided eternally in the realm of Elrond.
Mikhaella was still, absorbing the peace and serenity of the place. Turning her face to the sun she sighed as the its warmth caressed her, warming her heart which had been icy for so long with fear and apprehension. The lines of tension eased around her face, and for once she looked as young and as fresh as her young (*to the elves, that is*) 1350 years. She was no princess, no daughter of an important ruler, no one save a young woman who sought only a moment's respite from the worries that plagued her.
Arwen looked at her and sighed. "You should not worry yourself so, Mikhaella. I am sure everything is alright."
"How do you fare, Arwen?" Mikhaella asked softly, changing the topic, not wishing to speak of matters that were dark and weighty in her mind,"How fares Aragorn?"
For years she and Arwen had been friends; they kept nothing from each other. Mikhaella knew of the love Arwen bore for the mortal son of Arathorn, the Dunadan Aragorn, whom she and Arwen had called Estel in their days of childhood ignorance and bliss. And she knew of the love Aragorn bore for Arwen in return.
Arwen looked sad for a moment. "He is ever in my thoughts, and in my heart," she said truthfully, "Though he roams far and away from here I have no doubt he'll return." She gave a sigh,"There has been no other for me, Mikhaella. And I will have no other."
"Ah," Mikhaella said simply. She reached out and took Arwen's hand. "I envy you, Arwen." Would that I be able to experience the wonder of your emotions...to feel so much for someone --- "
"Your time will come," Arwen laid an elder sisterly-hand on the younger elfmaid's cheek, "And I would that you do not feel my sorrow when you do feel the love."
Mikhaella closed her eyes and smiled. "Even in your sorrow you grow strong at the mention of your love--" She opened her eyes---"I would not mind the pain if that is the price I'd have to pay to experience emotions as powerful as yours."
Arwen smiled sadly,"Then, meleth, you'll have to fall in love with a mortal to feel such pain."
As always, it was the issue of mortality that resurfaced every time they spoke of Aragorn. Even as girls they'd been aware of it; now, as a young woman grown, Mikhaella still longed for the love that Arwen and Aragorn so obviously felt for each other.
"Would I really find what I'm looking for? I hope I find it soon...I feel so alone, Arwen."
"Love finds you, not the other way around." Arwen corrected gently, "And as for when---well, it's all up to Fate. But never fear, our people have the luxury of time."
Mikhaella remained silent, her eyes misty with many thoughts and secret longings. Her far-away look was not lost on her friend, who silently sat beside her. Arwen thought of Aragorn.
"Do you know of Aragorn's well-being? Is he safe?" Mikhaella asked.
"Oh yes," Arwen replied, placing a hand over her heart, "Believe me, I would know if he has come to harm. He is out here still, doing his duty."
Once again Mikhaella felt that longing for her own love, to pray for, cherish, and devote herself to. A companion through the Eternity that all Elves faced. Mikhaella did not wish to face it alone.
Tbc...
*Yupyup, I'm working on this as fast as I can. It's going to be a long tale...no Legolas as of yet, but let me assure you...he's coming....wink
Chapter Two
No more was said of the dismal topic until they stood in front of the Lord Elrond, ruler of Rivendell. Upon seeing them enter Elrond stood, left the gathering of noblemen and courtiers that were assembled in the room, and greeted Mikhaella with a genuinely welcoming smile on his ageless face.
"Meneg suilad, Mikhaella," he said, extending his hands and kissing her cheek in the fashion of the Court. Grave he seemed, and as wise as always; he was revered by both men and elves alike, and his name was legend throughout these parts. Mikhaella looked on him like she would a second father, and she admired him mightily.
"Meneg suilad, my Lord Elrond," she said with her eyes downcast, the picture of maidenly propriety. Elrond looked at her, pleased."You have bloomed during the time you've stayed away," he said, embracing her,"T'was a girl who left us and a woman who returns...an accomplished and beautiful young woman." There was pride in his voice, and Arwen smiled in agreement.
Mikhaella laughed. "One hundred and fifty-two springs have passed, yet I see that your tongue is still as sweet as ever, my lord." Then she said, more seriously, "It was good of you to allow me to stay here, and it is good to see you."
Elrond smiled, "Well, I am sure that the two of you have a lot of catching up to do," he said, turning back to the council that he had left so abruptly,"I have to finish up some business. Excuse me for now. I shall see you both again at supper." Arwen and Mikhaella murmured their farewells to him and departed, looking at each other with girlish delight.
Elrond paused a moment before going back to the council, gazing after his daughter and the princess of Imladriel as they walked away hand-in-hand. He smiled. Truly, it did Arwen a lot of good, he thought. Arwen was too headstrong; someday she would get into trouble with all her ideas of leaving Rivendell to aid the other races in their fight against the darkness that was arising from Mordor. The Elves of Rivendell could not help them anymore than they already have. Mikhaella could use this time in Rivendell to heal...for she had taken the fall of her home to heart. Elrond could sense the turmoil in her despite her outer facade of calm. She was hurting inside, as was his daughter. Arwen was in turmoil too. Arwen needed Mikhaella to keep her preoccupied, from going nearly mad with the knowledge that Rivendell was near helpless in assisting the troubled land in these dark times. She did not understand...what could Rivendell do? Interfere in matters that did not concern them? Besides, Elrond's hands were tied. His responsibility was for his people and for Rivendell alone.
How little he knew that all that was going to change...
_______________________________________________________________________
Mikhaella and Arwen, meanwhile, strolled slowly through the marble passages of the last homely house. The air was warm and carried the scents of fresh greens and flowers. The sun shone gently on the valley of Rivendell, and no darkness had descended upon its green majesty as of yet. It was as if spring and the freshness of all things living and not resided eternally in the realm of Elrond.
Mikhaella was still, absorbing the peace and serenity of the place. Turning her face to the sun she sighed as the its warmth caressed her, warming her heart which had been icy for so long with fear and apprehension. The lines of tension eased around her face, and for once she looked as young and as fresh as her young (*to the elves, that is*) 1350 years. She was no princess, no daughter of an important ruler, no one save a young woman who sought only a moment's respite from the worries that plagued her.
Arwen looked at her and sighed. "You should not worry yourself so, Mikhaella. I am sure everything is alright."
"How do you fare, Arwen?" Mikhaella asked softly, changing the topic, not wishing to speak of matters that were dark and weighty in her mind,"How fares Aragorn?"
For years she and Arwen had been friends; they kept nothing from each other. Mikhaella knew of the love Arwen bore for the mortal son of Arathorn, the Dunadan Aragorn, whom she and Arwen had called Estel in their days of childhood ignorance and bliss. And she knew of the love Aragorn bore for Arwen in return.
Arwen looked sad for a moment. "He is ever in my thoughts, and in my heart," she said truthfully, "Though he roams far and away from here I have no doubt he'll return." She gave a sigh,"There has been no other for me, Mikhaella. And I will have no other."
"Ah," Mikhaella said simply. She reached out and took Arwen's hand. "I envy you, Arwen." Would that I be able to experience the wonder of your emotions...to feel so much for someone --- "
"Your time will come," Arwen laid an elder sisterly-hand on the younger elfmaid's cheek, "And I would that you do not feel my sorrow when you do feel the love."
Mikhaella closed her eyes and smiled. "Even in your sorrow you grow strong at the mention of your love--" She opened her eyes---"I would not mind the pain if that is the price I'd have to pay to experience emotions as powerful as yours."
Arwen smiled sadly,"Then, meleth, you'll have to fall in love with a mortal to feel such pain."
As always, it was the issue of mortality that resurfaced every time they spoke of Aragorn. Even as girls they'd been aware of it; now, as a young woman grown, Mikhaella still longed for the love that Arwen and Aragorn so obviously felt for each other.
"Would I really find what I'm looking for? I hope I find it soon...I feel so alone, Arwen."
"Love finds you, not the other way around." Arwen corrected gently, "And as for when---well, it's all up to Fate. But never fear, our people have the luxury of time."
Mikhaella remained silent, her eyes misty with many thoughts and secret longings. Her far-away look was not lost on her friend, who silently sat beside her. Arwen thought of Aragorn.
"Do you know of Aragorn's well-being? Is he safe?" Mikhaella asked.
"Oh yes," Arwen replied, placing a hand over her heart, "Believe me, I would know if he has come to harm. He is out here still, doing his duty."
Once again Mikhaella felt that longing for her own love, to pray for, cherish, and devote herself to. A companion through the Eternity that all Elves faced. Mikhaella did not wish to face it alone.
Tbc...