Legolas remembered a story Nimarie had once told him when he was drowsily
falling asleep, still a very little child. The lingering impression of
sadness still pressed upon his mind on remembrance of it's telling and of
the glowing, animated face of Nimarie in the firelight and her low, smooth
tones whispering into his ear.
She had told him of a lovely little elf-child who had fallen in love with a magical bird, in love with it's brilliantly colored wings, so sleek and fine, so jade and cerulean, and with it's nightingale's song rising in the wind, whistling high and sung slowly as if just for her.
She had taken care of the bird, and called it Yúla quessë, for the breaching glow of dawn on it's feathers and because ' bird,' would have simply been too plain. She followed it everywhere and shaped out of simple blocks of stone the most magnificent bird- baths for it and out of her hand did it feed on only the best morsels. And truly, after a time the elf-girl could longer imagine her life without it and forgot all about her life and family in her worship of Yúla quessë.
It so came that Yúla quessë possessed the power to ward away any foe with his brilliance. On one fine morn, while he and the elf-girl were passing by a stream, he and the elf- girl encountered the most hideous bear imaginable. His cowardice showed it's true colors then and despite his abilities, Yúla quessë took to the air, abandoning the elf-girl, but the bear struck him down before he escaped and his frail body was crushed beyond repair.
The elf-girl, thinking Yúla quessë had flown up to defend her and not abandon her, took up his small body and ran, escaping the bear.
When in solitude, she wept bitterly at her loss and her tears fell upon his shattered body, clasped tightly to her breast. With every fallen tear, his body was hardened and crystallized, until he was nothing short of pure diamond. The elf-girl had wept so endlessly that not a drop of life lingered on in her body and she passed, unaware of her friend's transformation.
Nimarie had then stopped, scrutinized his sleepy form and said in a hushed voice " Come, timpi melon," and had tugged him out of his bed. The floor had been very chill on his feet, but he did not mind. He knew wherever she brought him would promise to be exciting.
She had motioned for him to be quiet and had led him down countless halls and stairs, finally stopping before a heavy, iron-wrought door. Out of her apron pocket, she had drawn a beautiful, gold key, twisted like vines and decorated with emerald leaves. This he recognized as his father's, but he did not ask her how she had obtained it. Instead he had watched as she slipped it in the lock and turned it with a faint click.
The room he entered was dark, the torches from the hall only illuminated enough to suggest glittering things lying there, spread out around the room. Nimarie had taken his hand and had brought him into the room, picking her way carefully, never bumping into a thing. She stopped when they had reached their destination and had struck up a match.
In the glow of the fire, Legolas had seen upon a pedestal a magnificently carved, diamond bird. But the morbidity of the bird lay in the fact that it was on it's back, wings spread out and it's head in an odd angle, . as if dead. Yet it was still disturbingly beautiful, the light of the match adding color to the sleek hard lines of the diamond bird and bouncing off it's shining sides.
"Legolas? Do you see that fault in the middle of the diamond? That was where Yúla quessë's heart once was, for people say that when he flew from that elf- girl, he did not die from the blow from the bear but rather from the fact that his heart had simply disappeared."
Later, Legolas had learned that this room was one of his father's many treasuries and the bird simply an acquisition, but as a child he had been awed to have proof of such a tale and the magic of Nimarie's words had endured for him.
He had told Shao Ring this tale once, while watching her dark, almond- shaped eyes flicker over her book in the dim light of her room. She had listened without even looking up from her book in her lap and had replied,
" It sounds like you and your Tuel."
"What character would you be then?" he had quirked, not really thinking.
"I suppose that I would be the bear," she had answered, not even twitching.
He had been inclined to agree with her. If any pain had registered at her realization and his lack of disagreement, she had not shown it, her eyes continuing to move over the page.
* * *
I want to say a few things about the disposition I was in when I met Shao Ring.
I was tired, I had a low throbbing headache at the back of my head courtesy of Bleth and Finaer, I was getting married to someone who needed me but who did not love me, who took comfort in me but who would never consider returned that comfort and, . I was hunting for wolves. So when a small, dark figure came hurtling out at me, I had raised my bow and shot it before I knew what I was doing.
The figure was now hysterically half screaming, half crying and half gasping in a language that was as of yet unintelligible and I realized this being was most certainly not an elf and it was a woman. It had a tangled mass of hair that I was sure would be black if it had been free of all the twigs and mud, and even through grime and sweat provided a thick layer over her skin, the up-slanting eyes, flattish nose and pale, bronze-tinged skin were plainly visible. Her cheekbones were broad, but her cheeks themselves were hallowed out as if she had lost a lot of weight very quickly.
That's when I made another astoundingly, acute observation on my part.
She was an Easterling.
I think I can be forgiven for the fact that I didn't know what race she was immediately, I had after all never seen an Easterling before save for the few drawings I had seen of them in books prior to meeting her. Fascinated, I began to scrutinize her more thoroughly, almost oblivious to the fact that she very much still had an arrow in her arm, that she was clutching with her good arm as if that could relieve the pain, and was clumsily backing up into a tree. Her eyes were darting wildly over my too-clean hair and pointed ears. I suppose she had never seen an elf before either. Her clothing was odd. There must have had some sort of padding underneath because it made body look rather thick and bundled up. Her trousers and shirt were made of lightweight blue cotton. The shirt came halfway down her thighs and was tied at the waist by a thick piece of black cotton from which a variety of items hung. Her sleeves were tucked into palm-less bracers and her pant bottoms into long, dirty white socks, which were in turn fitted into strange, slipper like shoes. Thrown over her shoulders was the only item of familiarity, a hooded cloak. The cloak was tattered and ripped however. It was practically useless but it must have serviced to get her past towns safely without people recognizing her for her race. That's when I realized she had long since stopped screaming and saw her draw from behind her cloak a small long-handled dagger. I lowered my bow.
She eyed me wearily, but lowered her dagger a little. I hadn't really been threatened by it anyway, if I wished I certainly could have unarmed her, but considering that I had already shot her, I decided to allow her to hold to that bit of dignity. I'm going to interject that I, being the son of Thranduil, had before then already received at least a basic course in all of the languages of Middle-earth. I had never furthered my education in Easterling, but really what elf would really need to speak Easterling in his life?
" Ni shi sui? Wei se me ni zai zher?" I asked her in my fractured, badly pronounced Easterling, managing that fairly smoothly only because it was constructed of very simple words.
Who are you? Why are you here?
Her eyebrows shot up. She probably hadn't encountered anyone on her journey that could speak Easterling.
" First tell me who you are, . and what your trouble is with myself or wisely be on your way before I attempt to hurt you, " she said gasping in Easterling. As almost an afterthought she added, " I would also very much like to know how it came to be that I have an arrow in my arm," then under her breath, "sha gua."
Her voice was hoarse, but I was still surprised at how beautiful a language it was, and I could only discern bits and pieces of it. I hadn't understood the last phrase she had used at all. Later I had learned that it had been a rather rude expletive. Even my tutors had, compared to her, pronounced the language in a very high and nasal tone. The sentence structure was much different from Common but her words flowed together like water.
" I am Legolas, son of Thranduil and am of the elven folk. I was patrolling these lands till you came." I said while examining her wound, briefly scanning over it with my eyes.
By now she had lowered her dagger realizing that she had gotten shot by accident. She even looked a little smug as if she were laughing at my stupidity. But I could have been wrong since her face was still a little screwed up from the pain and her anger.
Before she could re-raise her dagger, I had swiftly stepped over to where she sat by the tree, took hold of the arrow and shoved. The sound she made after that I would very much like to forget, even more so the blow she dealt to my nose after it and the crunch of bone following. I had seriously seen the mistake in taking her by surprise like that.
" Mu goa!" she shrieked at my ear, starting to cry again.
Another phrase I didn't understand, but one that I was certain wasn't positive. She had curled up into a fetal position and of course I, concerned with my own newly acquired wound, lay on my back, gazing up at the kaleidoscope of colors that even an elf had not the ability to witness unless in the same predicament as I. Very slowly I stood up, feeling blood gush out of my nose over my mouth at shirt, and crawled over to where she lay. I flipped her none too gently on to her back (she had broken my nose) and straddled her waist, pinning her uninjured arm with my knee. She shrieked and struggled, flapping her injured arm to try and hit me but me being swifter, I grabbed her arm, broke the head off the arrow and pulled the shaft out. All I can tell you is the she wasn't exactly silent during this event, my sensitive elf ears cried for a full day after. I suppose I can't blame her though, I must have looked like a demon with all that blood smeared over my face, especially in her delirium.
After that she passed out which I was actually somewhat thankful for. I took a small flask of bourbon from my belt, that I had been carrying around with me quite frequently as of late, and took a long gulp from it trying to forget just how much worse my headache had gotten. I poured the rest over her wound and sighed, looking around to take in my surroundings. I sighed again when I saw the familiar hill to the right and rock formation to the left and realized we were about a good five kilometers from the palace. I'd probably have to carry her the whole way. I took solace in the fact that if I hadn't taken her by surprise she probably wouldn't have let me pull out the arrow. Then again, I wouldn't have a broken nose either. I then realized that I had not even learned her name yet and it was starting to get dark.
I was disgusted at my diplomatic skills and after we had exchanged less then a dozen sentences!
Very tired, I started to gather up the things she had spilt when she had come crashing though the forest. Glancing over to where she lay on the ground, entangled in a fallen branch, I plucked a dead leaf from her hair.
Author's note: Thanks again for all the positive reviews.
The 'Easterling' I use is actually Chinese, and not very good Chinese either, but I don't actually know Easterling so.since I already identified Easterlings with Asian people anyway.
' Yúla quessë' is Quenya for 'ember feathers' and ' timpi melon' means ' little beloved' in Sindarin. Oh and I know the characters I made up do not have proper elvish names so don't flame me for it.
The different POV scene will eventually make sense. It's a bit like a flashback. Like Legolas is telling his story and then he thinks of something that happens later down the road.
This is where the plot is going to start developing.
So please review and enjoy.
Luv, Stage
She had told him of a lovely little elf-child who had fallen in love with a magical bird, in love with it's brilliantly colored wings, so sleek and fine, so jade and cerulean, and with it's nightingale's song rising in the wind, whistling high and sung slowly as if just for her.
She had taken care of the bird, and called it Yúla quessë, for the breaching glow of dawn on it's feathers and because ' bird,' would have simply been too plain. She followed it everywhere and shaped out of simple blocks of stone the most magnificent bird- baths for it and out of her hand did it feed on only the best morsels. And truly, after a time the elf-girl could longer imagine her life without it and forgot all about her life and family in her worship of Yúla quessë.
It so came that Yúla quessë possessed the power to ward away any foe with his brilliance. On one fine morn, while he and the elf-girl were passing by a stream, he and the elf- girl encountered the most hideous bear imaginable. His cowardice showed it's true colors then and despite his abilities, Yúla quessë took to the air, abandoning the elf-girl, but the bear struck him down before he escaped and his frail body was crushed beyond repair.
The elf-girl, thinking Yúla quessë had flown up to defend her and not abandon her, took up his small body and ran, escaping the bear.
When in solitude, she wept bitterly at her loss and her tears fell upon his shattered body, clasped tightly to her breast. With every fallen tear, his body was hardened and crystallized, until he was nothing short of pure diamond. The elf-girl had wept so endlessly that not a drop of life lingered on in her body and she passed, unaware of her friend's transformation.
Nimarie had then stopped, scrutinized his sleepy form and said in a hushed voice " Come, timpi melon," and had tugged him out of his bed. The floor had been very chill on his feet, but he did not mind. He knew wherever she brought him would promise to be exciting.
She had motioned for him to be quiet and had led him down countless halls and stairs, finally stopping before a heavy, iron-wrought door. Out of her apron pocket, she had drawn a beautiful, gold key, twisted like vines and decorated with emerald leaves. This he recognized as his father's, but he did not ask her how she had obtained it. Instead he had watched as she slipped it in the lock and turned it with a faint click.
The room he entered was dark, the torches from the hall only illuminated enough to suggest glittering things lying there, spread out around the room. Nimarie had taken his hand and had brought him into the room, picking her way carefully, never bumping into a thing. She stopped when they had reached their destination and had struck up a match.
In the glow of the fire, Legolas had seen upon a pedestal a magnificently carved, diamond bird. But the morbidity of the bird lay in the fact that it was on it's back, wings spread out and it's head in an odd angle, . as if dead. Yet it was still disturbingly beautiful, the light of the match adding color to the sleek hard lines of the diamond bird and bouncing off it's shining sides.
"Legolas? Do you see that fault in the middle of the diamond? That was where Yúla quessë's heart once was, for people say that when he flew from that elf- girl, he did not die from the blow from the bear but rather from the fact that his heart had simply disappeared."
Later, Legolas had learned that this room was one of his father's many treasuries and the bird simply an acquisition, but as a child he had been awed to have proof of such a tale and the magic of Nimarie's words had endured for him.
He had told Shao Ring this tale once, while watching her dark, almond- shaped eyes flicker over her book in the dim light of her room. She had listened without even looking up from her book in her lap and had replied,
" It sounds like you and your Tuel."
"What character would you be then?" he had quirked, not really thinking.
"I suppose that I would be the bear," she had answered, not even twitching.
He had been inclined to agree with her. If any pain had registered at her realization and his lack of disagreement, she had not shown it, her eyes continuing to move over the page.
* * *
I want to say a few things about the disposition I was in when I met Shao Ring.
I was tired, I had a low throbbing headache at the back of my head courtesy of Bleth and Finaer, I was getting married to someone who needed me but who did not love me, who took comfort in me but who would never consider returned that comfort and, . I was hunting for wolves. So when a small, dark figure came hurtling out at me, I had raised my bow and shot it before I knew what I was doing.
The figure was now hysterically half screaming, half crying and half gasping in a language that was as of yet unintelligible and I realized this being was most certainly not an elf and it was a woman. It had a tangled mass of hair that I was sure would be black if it had been free of all the twigs and mud, and even through grime and sweat provided a thick layer over her skin, the up-slanting eyes, flattish nose and pale, bronze-tinged skin were plainly visible. Her cheekbones were broad, but her cheeks themselves were hallowed out as if she had lost a lot of weight very quickly.
That's when I made another astoundingly, acute observation on my part.
She was an Easterling.
I think I can be forgiven for the fact that I didn't know what race she was immediately, I had after all never seen an Easterling before save for the few drawings I had seen of them in books prior to meeting her. Fascinated, I began to scrutinize her more thoroughly, almost oblivious to the fact that she very much still had an arrow in her arm, that she was clutching with her good arm as if that could relieve the pain, and was clumsily backing up into a tree. Her eyes were darting wildly over my too-clean hair and pointed ears. I suppose she had never seen an elf before either. Her clothing was odd. There must have had some sort of padding underneath because it made body look rather thick and bundled up. Her trousers and shirt were made of lightweight blue cotton. The shirt came halfway down her thighs and was tied at the waist by a thick piece of black cotton from which a variety of items hung. Her sleeves were tucked into palm-less bracers and her pant bottoms into long, dirty white socks, which were in turn fitted into strange, slipper like shoes. Thrown over her shoulders was the only item of familiarity, a hooded cloak. The cloak was tattered and ripped however. It was practically useless but it must have serviced to get her past towns safely without people recognizing her for her race. That's when I realized she had long since stopped screaming and saw her draw from behind her cloak a small long-handled dagger. I lowered my bow.
She eyed me wearily, but lowered her dagger a little. I hadn't really been threatened by it anyway, if I wished I certainly could have unarmed her, but considering that I had already shot her, I decided to allow her to hold to that bit of dignity. I'm going to interject that I, being the son of Thranduil, had before then already received at least a basic course in all of the languages of Middle-earth. I had never furthered my education in Easterling, but really what elf would really need to speak Easterling in his life?
" Ni shi sui? Wei se me ni zai zher?" I asked her in my fractured, badly pronounced Easterling, managing that fairly smoothly only because it was constructed of very simple words.
Who are you? Why are you here?
Her eyebrows shot up. She probably hadn't encountered anyone on her journey that could speak Easterling.
" First tell me who you are, . and what your trouble is with myself or wisely be on your way before I attempt to hurt you, " she said gasping in Easterling. As almost an afterthought she added, " I would also very much like to know how it came to be that I have an arrow in my arm," then under her breath, "sha gua."
Her voice was hoarse, but I was still surprised at how beautiful a language it was, and I could only discern bits and pieces of it. I hadn't understood the last phrase she had used at all. Later I had learned that it had been a rather rude expletive. Even my tutors had, compared to her, pronounced the language in a very high and nasal tone. The sentence structure was much different from Common but her words flowed together like water.
" I am Legolas, son of Thranduil and am of the elven folk. I was patrolling these lands till you came." I said while examining her wound, briefly scanning over it with my eyes.
By now she had lowered her dagger realizing that she had gotten shot by accident. She even looked a little smug as if she were laughing at my stupidity. But I could have been wrong since her face was still a little screwed up from the pain and her anger.
Before she could re-raise her dagger, I had swiftly stepped over to where she sat by the tree, took hold of the arrow and shoved. The sound she made after that I would very much like to forget, even more so the blow she dealt to my nose after it and the crunch of bone following. I had seriously seen the mistake in taking her by surprise like that.
" Mu goa!" she shrieked at my ear, starting to cry again.
Another phrase I didn't understand, but one that I was certain wasn't positive. She had curled up into a fetal position and of course I, concerned with my own newly acquired wound, lay on my back, gazing up at the kaleidoscope of colors that even an elf had not the ability to witness unless in the same predicament as I. Very slowly I stood up, feeling blood gush out of my nose over my mouth at shirt, and crawled over to where she lay. I flipped her none too gently on to her back (she had broken my nose) and straddled her waist, pinning her uninjured arm with my knee. She shrieked and struggled, flapping her injured arm to try and hit me but me being swifter, I grabbed her arm, broke the head off the arrow and pulled the shaft out. All I can tell you is the she wasn't exactly silent during this event, my sensitive elf ears cried for a full day after. I suppose I can't blame her though, I must have looked like a demon with all that blood smeared over my face, especially in her delirium.
After that she passed out which I was actually somewhat thankful for. I took a small flask of bourbon from my belt, that I had been carrying around with me quite frequently as of late, and took a long gulp from it trying to forget just how much worse my headache had gotten. I poured the rest over her wound and sighed, looking around to take in my surroundings. I sighed again when I saw the familiar hill to the right and rock formation to the left and realized we were about a good five kilometers from the palace. I'd probably have to carry her the whole way. I took solace in the fact that if I hadn't taken her by surprise she probably wouldn't have let me pull out the arrow. Then again, I wouldn't have a broken nose either. I then realized that I had not even learned her name yet and it was starting to get dark.
I was disgusted at my diplomatic skills and after we had exchanged less then a dozen sentences!
Very tired, I started to gather up the things she had spilt when she had come crashing though the forest. Glancing over to where she lay on the ground, entangled in a fallen branch, I plucked a dead leaf from her hair.
Author's note: Thanks again for all the positive reviews.
The 'Easterling' I use is actually Chinese, and not very good Chinese either, but I don't actually know Easterling so.since I already identified Easterlings with Asian people anyway.
' Yúla quessë' is Quenya for 'ember feathers' and ' timpi melon' means ' little beloved' in Sindarin. Oh and I know the characters I made up do not have proper elvish names so don't flame me for it.
The different POV scene will eventually make sense. It's a bit like a flashback. Like Legolas is telling his story and then he thinks of something that happens later down the road.
This is where the plot is going to start developing.
So please review and enjoy.
Luv, Stage