Rilwen headed for the outdoor council room, her dress fluttering as she
walked. Layers of gauzy deep blue fabric clung to her curves and belled
out to dance in her passing, enhancing the bright aqua of her eyes and the
fire of her hair. She nodded politely to the servant that opened the door
for her, and entered Lord Elrond's presence. She saw him upon his chair,
with a young blond Elf standing before him. The Elf stood proudly and
defiantly, with his bow and arrows on a table to the side with a guard in
front of them. Melpomaen, Erestor, Figwit and Glorfindel sat at their
Council places. She bowed low and spoke, causing the young Elf to turn and
look at her. "Lord Elrond, I have arrived at your command. How may I
serve you and Imladris?"
The young Elf spoke impertinently. "This is your expert on arrows? A delicate maiden?" She looked at the strong jaw and slender build. Surely this one has barely over a thousand years at best with those manners, she thought. His eyes caught hers, and she was entranced for a second by the sapphire depths and lips as perfect as his bow. She forced herself to turn away as Elrond spoke in a warning tone.
"This 'maiden', as you call her, has been a Warden in Lorien for several centuries and has even held the position of my own Warden Adjutant." He turned to Rilwen. "Rilwen, this is Prince Legolas Thranduilion of Mirkwood. He has just come to visit, and already there is a dispute over his killing of 12 Orcs on the way here, an entire raiding party."
She looked curious. "May I ask what the dispute is, my Lord? It is well known that the son of King Thranduil is an excellent archer."
Elrond sighed, and Rilwen noticed his son in the room. She came quite close to smirking. "He contends that he shot all twelve himself. My dear son." His voice grated on the name, as if he would rather be doing anything than settling the disputes of young Elves. "Elrohir claims his arrow killed the last one. Neither will concede the other. The difficulty is that while Elrohir traveled here, the Prince taught him his fletchings, and we cannot tell the final arrows apart. They lie there on the table with the respective bows. Will you lend us your opinion?" Legolas crossed his arms, as if daring her to figure it out. She smiled and went over to the table.
Rilwen saw the two arrows in question, along with the remainder of Legolas' quiver and his and Elrohir's bow. She whispered a few words to the guard, and he sped off on her errand. She very slowly examined both arrows in minute detail. The guard returned after a moment with another arrow and handed it to her respectfully. After examining it and a few other of Legolas' arrows, she turned back to the Prince. "Your highness, regardless of ownership, what was the placement of the arrows on the body?"
He thought a moment, then pointed to his own chest. "One struck directly here into the heart, and the other was an inch and a half to the right of the heart. Both were from dead on facing the beast." She smiled knowingly.
Rilwen turned to face Elrohir, who sat across from his father. Her grin was infectious, and Elrohir smiled back at her, thinking himself victorious. The happy look faded at her next words. "Do forgive me, Elrohir, but you did not own the killing blow this time." He stared at her for a moment, then leapt to his feet. He grabbed the arrow from her and sighted down it.
"How do you know that, Rilwen? Tell me!"
Legolas looked admiringly at her. "I am curious as well, my Lady, please explain."
She took the arrow back from Elrohir and glanced at Lord Elrond. He nodded. "All of the Prince's arrows have the thread on the fletching being wound from left to right. However, the arrow that Elrohir fletched is wound from right to left." She looked up at her cousin. "You sat across from him as he taught you, therefore the wrapping is like looking in a mirror. Also, I have told you time and again that you have a heavy hand when fletching the cock feather to the left. You overcompensate, therefore your arrow had to be the one to the right." Elrohir flushed since he knew she was right. Legolas reached out for the arrow.
"May I, my Lady?" She handed him the arrow, and he gazed at the feathered end of it. "She is correct, this arrow is wound the opposite way from my usual pattern. And the cock feather is lightly canted left on the nock end." His opinion of her was greatly increased. Only an Elf with many centuries of experience with the bow would have been able to notice such detail.
Rilwen turned to Lord Elrond. "My Lord, that is my judgement."
He smiled in relief. "And it is accepted, Rilwen. Thank you for lending your expertise. I know I called you from the preparation of several healing ointments, please return before they congeal." She curtsied and left the room. His voice turned stern as he regarded Elrohir. "And in the future, son, kindly think to check on such detail before insisting you are always right. My council has far broader topics to discuss." He flushed a little at his father's words, but bowed in apology to Legolas.
Legolas graciously accepted his words and excused himself from Elrond's council. He was curious about the female with such knowledge, and wondered why she was called a "former" Warden. Why would one go from guarding their home for centuries to healing and other domestic arts? Hopefully, she would be at dinner that night.
The young Elf spoke impertinently. "This is your expert on arrows? A delicate maiden?" She looked at the strong jaw and slender build. Surely this one has barely over a thousand years at best with those manners, she thought. His eyes caught hers, and she was entranced for a second by the sapphire depths and lips as perfect as his bow. She forced herself to turn away as Elrond spoke in a warning tone.
"This 'maiden', as you call her, has been a Warden in Lorien for several centuries and has even held the position of my own Warden Adjutant." He turned to Rilwen. "Rilwen, this is Prince Legolas Thranduilion of Mirkwood. He has just come to visit, and already there is a dispute over his killing of 12 Orcs on the way here, an entire raiding party."
She looked curious. "May I ask what the dispute is, my Lord? It is well known that the son of King Thranduil is an excellent archer."
Elrond sighed, and Rilwen noticed his son in the room. She came quite close to smirking. "He contends that he shot all twelve himself. My dear son." His voice grated on the name, as if he would rather be doing anything than settling the disputes of young Elves. "Elrohir claims his arrow killed the last one. Neither will concede the other. The difficulty is that while Elrohir traveled here, the Prince taught him his fletchings, and we cannot tell the final arrows apart. They lie there on the table with the respective bows. Will you lend us your opinion?" Legolas crossed his arms, as if daring her to figure it out. She smiled and went over to the table.
Rilwen saw the two arrows in question, along with the remainder of Legolas' quiver and his and Elrohir's bow. She whispered a few words to the guard, and he sped off on her errand. She very slowly examined both arrows in minute detail. The guard returned after a moment with another arrow and handed it to her respectfully. After examining it and a few other of Legolas' arrows, she turned back to the Prince. "Your highness, regardless of ownership, what was the placement of the arrows on the body?"
He thought a moment, then pointed to his own chest. "One struck directly here into the heart, and the other was an inch and a half to the right of the heart. Both were from dead on facing the beast." She smiled knowingly.
Rilwen turned to face Elrohir, who sat across from his father. Her grin was infectious, and Elrohir smiled back at her, thinking himself victorious. The happy look faded at her next words. "Do forgive me, Elrohir, but you did not own the killing blow this time." He stared at her for a moment, then leapt to his feet. He grabbed the arrow from her and sighted down it.
"How do you know that, Rilwen? Tell me!"
Legolas looked admiringly at her. "I am curious as well, my Lady, please explain."
She took the arrow back from Elrohir and glanced at Lord Elrond. He nodded. "All of the Prince's arrows have the thread on the fletching being wound from left to right. However, the arrow that Elrohir fletched is wound from right to left." She looked up at her cousin. "You sat across from him as he taught you, therefore the wrapping is like looking in a mirror. Also, I have told you time and again that you have a heavy hand when fletching the cock feather to the left. You overcompensate, therefore your arrow had to be the one to the right." Elrohir flushed since he knew she was right. Legolas reached out for the arrow.
"May I, my Lady?" She handed him the arrow, and he gazed at the feathered end of it. "She is correct, this arrow is wound the opposite way from my usual pattern. And the cock feather is lightly canted left on the nock end." His opinion of her was greatly increased. Only an Elf with many centuries of experience with the bow would have been able to notice such detail.
Rilwen turned to Lord Elrond. "My Lord, that is my judgement."
He smiled in relief. "And it is accepted, Rilwen. Thank you for lending your expertise. I know I called you from the preparation of several healing ointments, please return before they congeal." She curtsied and left the room. His voice turned stern as he regarded Elrohir. "And in the future, son, kindly think to check on such detail before insisting you are always right. My council has far broader topics to discuss." He flushed a little at his father's words, but bowed in apology to Legolas.
Legolas graciously accepted his words and excused himself from Elrond's council. He was curious about the female with such knowledge, and wondered why she was called a "former" Warden. Why would one go from guarding their home for centuries to healing and other domestic arts? Hopefully, she would be at dinner that night.