Nephryn Istriél lay quite still. She did not wish to aggravate her injuries. Nor did she wish to anger her keepers. She was safe from the White devil now. She knew this and feared him not. But keepers were keepers, no matter their kind ways. She was theirs, to do with as they pleased.
She was three millennia here on this mortal earth, and every belief or custom she had acquired in that time was lost to the darkness of the last two years. The judicious part of her mind told her that Rivendell was the safe haven that she'd seen previously in torn dreams. It told her that Undomiél would ensure her safety, and that the mighty Lord Elrond would see no harm come to her.
But her broken body and the memories branded onto her soul reminded her of the danger of trusting those you believe friends. The White Devil had hurt her far more than terrifying Keeper of Mordor.
Nephryn bit her lip to stay the sobs that threatened to overwhelm her. Her side ached less with each hour, but she relished the sting of the wound for it reminded her that she lived yet. She traced a slender finger along the reddened scars on one wrist. She forced her eyes to stay open, and drink the blinding sunlight that filtered through the open windows. Too long had her soul been starved by the darkness.
Her thoughts then strayed to the elf that had rescued her from the servants of Sauron. Truly, though she had been gravely injured at the time, never in all her life had she felt so safe as she'd felt in his arms. Her memories of the journey to Rivendell were fractured at best, but she remembered that his tender voice soothed her hurting mind and his comforting arms had held her waning hope above the surging tides of fear.
That fear born out of uncertainty surfaced in Nephryn now as she lay still on the bed. She yearned for the comforting presence of the fair elf.
The sound of the door rasping open drew her from her thoughts and the elf who had carefully ministered to her wounds now peered warily around the door. He met her gaze, and sought silent permission to enter. She nodded slightly and he approached the bed slowly.
"Fair Lady, your dressings must be changed. If I may?" He gestured to her left shoulder, which was wrapped in muslin strips that were soaked in Athelas.
He pulled back the light linen tunic and began to remove the strips one by one, careful not to touch her skin. She averted her gaze choosing to stare at the delicate drapes that swayed to the gentle swells of the light breeze.
"By the Valar! What has happened?" The healer drew his hands back uncertainly from the exposed wound.
Nephryn gazed lazily at it and her eyes widened at the sight of it. Gone was the deep gash that had been cut to the bone. The pain of it had worn her down and it had doggedly refused to heal. Now there was no scar but a blackened imprint, shaped as a circle with a cross through it. She lifted a hand to trace the line of it, but as her fingertips made contact with the impression it wavered and vanished under the pressure of her fingers, as though it melted into her skin. She frowned. Surely exhaustion played with her eyesight. She touched it again, and again the portion that fell under her fingers dissolved into the cream skin.
When she looked up, she saw that the healer had vanished. Perhaps he was frightened. May be he had gone to alert her keepers!
They would come and release he into Sauron's charge or worse into
the hands of the White devil.
Without further hesitation, Nephryn sat up and swung her legs down off the bed. Her legs buckled under the sudden weight but fear instilled in her a strength that she did not know she had. She pulled her black cloak from its place on the back of a tall armchair. Wrapping it around her as she walked, she found that the stiffness and pain was gone from her left arm. So engrossed was she that she did not notice Lord Elrond appear at the door and in her haste collided with him.
She let out an involuntary yelp, as she looked up and drew back.
"Nephryn?" Elrond stood stack still in the doorframe.
The elf maid shied away from the door and backed toward the corner of the room. She did not seem to be aware that Elrond was speaking to her. She muttered words even his keen hearing could not quite make out. He could not draw her gaze from the ground, and with every moment she waned further.
Elrond stepped closer and as he did, her voiced grew louder and more
frantic.
"Ma tanae, ma tana ... I quetter y silri...I allantië... Aníron
Legolas!" She was shouting now, her words broken by tortured breaths, as though her fear was a dead weight that anchored her to the sea bed.
Elrond gestured to the healer to retreat outside the door.
"Fetch Legolas!" he hissed to the healer.
**********
"Legolas?" The question was meant to stir him from sleep, but
Legolas had heard the light-footed elf maid enter before she had opened her mouth. He stood and turned to greet Arwen Evenstar, bowing as he approached her.
She quickly dispensed with the formalities and embraced him warmly. Though she smiled outwardly, Legolas could see the anxiety behind her smiling eyes. Too long had he known her, and too well did he know her to be fooled by her show of emotions.
"It is good to see you Legolas Greenleaf. To long has it been since your fair face has graced these pastures." She stepped back as she spoke, casting her eyes downward.
When she met his gaze again, an embarrassed flush coloured her cheeks.
"I am sorry for the way I reacted this morning." Legolas smiled upon hearing the apology. So typical Arwen was it that she would apologise for her surprise.
"Arwen," he grasped her shoulders firmly.
"Your father spoke of your friendship with Nephryn, and he told me of the circumstances of her disappearance. Never in a thousand worlds could you have ever expected to see her again. I understand. You need not apologise for no wrong was done."
On hearing these words, she relaxed visibly. She lead him over to a chair and gestured for him to sit.
"Tell me Legolas," she demanded quietly, "did they hurt her?"
Legolas chose his words carefully as he spoke.
"I believe that her time at Mordor did not see her well. But in the short talk I have had with her, she seems immensely strong of character. I believe that if she can recover anywhere, it is here among friends."
Their brief conversation was interrupted as the breathless healer burst into Legolas's room.
"I apologise for the interruption Sir elf! Lord Elrond deigns to speak with you immediately. The elf maid, sir, she is taken with a panic!"
Legolas stood and followed the shaken healer with the Lady Arwen on his heels.
**********
As they approached her room, they could hear Nephryn's panicked pleas.
"...ma tana¢ ... I quetter y silri...I allantië... Aníron Legolas!" I am sorry...my keeper...I beg mercy...I have fallen...I desire Legolas!
The sight of her, hunched in the corner, terrified of her keepers, broke his heart and grieved his soul. Legolas could see from the anguished look on Elrond's face, that the Elf lord was at a loss.
"Nephryn?" Legolas spoke softly as he approached her, showings his open palms, demonstrating that he intended no harm.
"Ma tanae ma tana , I quetter y silri!" Legolas could not see why she would beg mercy. What did she think she had done wrong? From what did she wish to be spared?
"No aníro silri, te nu nefrayr sîl" You do not need mercy for you have done no wrong
Legolas spoke slowly and soothingly. She made no response to his declaration, but her breaths had slowed and she seemed calmer.
Finally, she looked up and caught his gaze.
"Qai te me nefru, ma tana ?" What do you wish me to do Keeper?
Legolas frowned at this. Where had she gotten the notion that they were her Keepers?
"Y se rabri, te I sîl tana mríl tio" It is not for me to say for you have no Keeper but yourself
Her eyes widened at this. She frowned and opened her mouth as if to speak and then closed it again. She stood slowly and straightened.
"You would not cast my out of this place if I angered you?" She sounded sceptical.
Elrond stood out from behind Legolas and extended his hand.
"For as long as I am Lord of this sanctuary, no harm shall ever befall you here. And you may come and go as you see fit. There are no Keepers here, only friends."
Nephryn's expression softened at this and she regarded his extended hand with curiosity.
"And for as long as I roam these mortal lands, I shall stand between you and any further harm." The Elf-prince's words were spoken softly, though the promise was heartfelt.
Legolas reached out and traced slim fingers down her cheek.
"Will you entrust us with your safety and well-being?" The question brought tears to the distraught elf-maids eyes and she bowed her head into Legolas's caress.
"Yes."
Nephryn allowed herself to be brought back to her bed and there,
Legolas and Elrond sat with her. Arwen remained at the door, shocked to see her once steady and calm friend so gripped with fear.
"Your healer wished to inspect this." Nephryn drew back her tunic to reveal the black symbol.
Elrond's eyes widened at the sight to the mark and he leaned in closer to catch a better sight of it.
Nephryn gestured for him to touch it and just as before, the mark disappeared when he made contact.
"Incredible! And this was to there when you first tended to he Lady
Nephryn?"
The healer stood at the back of the room with Arwen when. He bowed his head slightly as he spoke.
"Only a deep gash that seemed to have existed for a period much longer that the Orc-arrow wound. That wound is gone and the symbol appeared in its place."
Elrond regarded Nephryn with sorrowful eyes, as he covered the mark with her tunic.
"Did Sauron abuse you often, or was it fellow prisoners who wounded you so?"
Nephryn looked surprised at the question.
"No Sir. You misunderstand. It was not Sauron who hurt me so. It is true that for near-on eighteen months, the Orcs imprisoned me at Sauron's instruction. It was cold and dark, and I wanted constantly for food and water and light, but they never abused me. I was taken forcefully against the will of Sauron to Isengard."
"Saruman!" Legolas breathed, anger and shock hissing in his voice.
"Saruman the White imprisoned you and mistreated you so?" Legolas was incensed but only the fire that flashed behind his pale blue eyes betrayed him. Long had Legolas believed that while most beings in Middle Earth had their flaws and foibles, only the Dark Lord of Mordor was truly evil. Now it seemed that the noblest of all beings, the Istari, had a traitor in their highest ranks.
"Long have we believed that Saruman has been corrupted by the lure of the One Ring, and this would have been unexpected had Gandalf not arrived yesterday. He brought news that Saruman covets the One Ring for himself. He even ventured to imprison Gandalf atop the tower of Orthanc."
As Elrond spoke, Arwen approached slowly and seated herself at the foot of the bed. She regarded her wounded friend and saw that if she looked past the bruised skin, the dark circles, the painful thinness and the wary demeanour, she could still see Nephryn Istriél, beautiful elf maid, daring warrior, talented apprentice and dear friend.
With every word that was spoken, Nephryn relaxed further. By midday though Nephryn remained quiet, great deal of mystery was resolved and the healer declared that his patient needed to rest.
Dutifully, Elrond and Arwen stood. Though Arwen had yet to speak to Nephryn, she now knew what had happened and their time would come. As Legolas made to leave, the elf-maid tightened her grip on his hand.
"Silri Legolas, te cuspi?" He smiled down at her fondly.
"Why? You must rest. And you are safe here now, no harm will come to you."
"You have made me feel safer than I have felt all my life. I owe you my life and still I beg more of you. Stay, please?" Legolas could not refuse the impassioned plea from such a brave and noble being. And so he sat, her slim fingers entwined in his, humming ancient elvish melodies.
Hours later, when the healer came to check on his patient, he found that she lay sleeping, eyes closed leaning against Legolas, who sat alongside her on the bed. Though the Elf-prince's eyes were opened, his mind wandered peacefully in Elven dreams for he had had a long journey and even the Great prince of Mirkwood needed sustenance and respite.
**********
Gandalf the Grey studied the Elf Lord, who now stood before him, staring out the window at the Misty Mountains bathed in early evening sunlight. Gandalf had known Elrond a very long time. He had admired him greatly when Elrond had fought bravely under Gilgalad and watched as he had raised the orphaned Aragorn as though he were his own son. Truly Aragorn was a very blessed young man for he had not seen the hardship and difficulties that had forged Elrond Half-Elven into the great being he was today.
Yesterday Gandalf had arrived with the foul news from Isengard, and now he could see that the grave news weighed heavily on Elrond, but something else had happened meanwhile, for the Elf seemed newly troubled.
"Have you ever seen that symbol?" Gandalf knew that he referred to the rough sketch Elrond had handed him when he had summoned Gandalf to his study held in his hand. The wise Istari studied the drawing briefly.
"It is known to me I think, but I would need to consult the lore to tell its origins and meaning. Why is it you ask?"
Elrond turned then from the window and looked Gandalf squarely in the eye.
"The elf-maid, who was rescued yesterday bears this mark on her shoulder, where once she had been wounded. It is magical, for it disappears when you touch it. I believe that she is inextricably to this Ring, more than any of us know yet."
Gandalf considered this as he studied the drawing more closely, tracing a long gnarled finger over the image. It did look familiar to him, but its significance was buried within the depths of his knowledge. The old wizard sighed, knowing that it would plague his thoughts until the answer revealed itself, and when it did, it would most likely be too late. Such was the way of this mortal mind.
"The elf maid is well?"
Elrond seemed to ponder this as he walked over to his large oak escritoire.
"She has improved mush since her arrival yesterday, but I fear that her mind has been scarred beyond full recovery. Just a few hours ago she believed us to be her Keepers."
Gandalf merely nodded. Silence sat like a damp cloud between them.
Clearly, Elrond had more to say but it seemed that the Elf-lord was unsure whether he aught to.
"It was not Sauron, who inflicted the injuries on Nephryn. Indeed he did hold her for a period of eighteen or so months, but though she was a prisoner, she was not ill treated under his charge. In fact, Nephryn only came to real harm when she was taken by the White Devil, as she refers to him."
Elrond cast an eye on Gandalf to see if the Istari followed where this was leading, but if the wizard did follow he did not reveal it.
"Did she reveal who this White Devil is?" The wizard raised curious eyes to Elrond's face.
"The White Devil, who so badly treated the elf maid is Saruman the White. He imprisoned her at Orthanc."
Gandalf the Grey paled visibly. On shaken legs he stood quickly and walked to the window where Elrond had stood before. There he leaned heavily on the sill as he tried to calm himself. When he turned, there flashed an angry light behind his eyes, the likes of which Elrond had seen earlier in Legolas's eyes.
"Then it appears that not only has our former leader strayed from the path set out by Valar, but he has crossed over the another, darker path entirely."
Through the angered words, Elrond could hear a great sadness that emanated from deep within Gandalf's soul. He was saddened at the loss of a once-great leader. He was angered that he had not seen this harsh reality before. He was ashamed to see it so bluntly evident that even the spirit of Maia was not enough to ward Saruman away from his chosen path.
"I will take my leave and study this in detail." The Istari walked hurriedly from the room, taking with him the sketch. Rarely had
Elrond ever seen the great wise Gandalf so shaken. Undoubtedly this news was something he needed to mull over before he would discuss it easily again.
And so it was that Elrond finished his day, as he had begun it, alone in his study surrounded by uneasy thoughts. A great many things had transpired and none bode them well.
**********
Though it had been only mere hours that he his mind walked in peaceful Elven dreams, Legolas felt well rested, and the ugly thoughts and prospects that had beset his heart seemed to have lifted, at least for the time being. He realised that Nephryn slept still against his chest.
He studied her then, bathed in the evening sun that shone through the open window. He was amazed to see that in only a few short hours, her pallid complexion had lifted and her skin was now a rich cream canvas, unblemished save for a few minor scrapes. Her eyes were closed, and her long lashes seemed to bow down onto her cheeks. The elf maid was entirely still and had she not been lying against him, he would have thought her lifeless, so slow and quiet was her breathing.
Slowly, so as not to disturb Nephryn from the restorative and much needed rest, he slipped out from behind her and stood slowly. As he gathered his bow and quiver, the door opened slightly and Arwen slipped in.
"I thought perhaps I might sit with her?" Arwen seemed to be asking his permission.
Legolas smiled slightly and nodded.
"I am in need of some air and a meal. Perhaps you will stay with her 'til my return. She would be alarmed if she were to awaken alone."
Without another word, Legolas left the room, closing the door quietly in his wake.
Arwen walked around the bed and sat in an armchair near to it. Curling her legs in under her, she pulled out an old, worn book. It was a book given to her by her grandmother Galadriél. It was to be shared between Arwen and Nephryn. Arwen would read the lore and the history, while Nephryn would learn the ancient chants and spells. As she fingered the scoured leather binding, she remembered when it was new. The smooth tawny leather protecting the smooth calfskin pages, stained with bright ink and beautiful patterns. It was the most exquisite gift she had ever received, more because it bound their friendship even closer.
She was still lost in thoughts when she became aware that she was not alone in her fond memories. She looked up to see Nephryn's eyes open and staring at the book in her lap.
"I remember the songs." Her voice was low and waspish, her mouth barely moving as she whispered.
"It was our shared present. She delighted in seeing it by two minds so different." Arwen smiled at this. It was true that they took interest in different aspects of the book. While Arwen lingered in the charm and craftsmanship of the book, Nephryn immersed herself in its tangled content, for it was a book of the most ancient Elven lore.
Now Nephryn held out her hand expectantly.
"Will you show me your precious Rivendell?"
Arwen took her hand, and slowly, Nephryn sat up and slipped her legs off the bed.
"Are you sure you are able?"
But Nephryn did not need to answer. She stood, drawing herself to her full height. She stood slightly taller than Arwen and determination flashed in her emerald eyes.
Linking arms, two of Rivendell's fairest maidens walked slowly toward the gardens. Silence enveloped them for a time, and Arwen felt that perhaps she walked not with a stranger, but a new friend.
"Are you angry with me?" Nephryn's question broke the hush, and Arwen looked directly at her, a small frown creasing her brow.
"Why should I be angry with you?"
"As I recall, the you asked to accompany me but I had wanted to be alone. As I walked away from you that day, I felt the hurt in your heart burn mine. I had always feared that you would remember me in anger, or that I would never have a chance to redeem myself."
Arwen stopped walking and turned to face Nephryn, taking holding her shoulders with both hands.
"You should seek no redemption. Never have been angry with you, neither in your absence nor in your presence. But I have missed your counsel and your presence keenly. You are safe here, and you are loved here, even by those with whom you are not familiar."
Nephryn blushed slightly at this, knowing that Arwen knew of her affection for the elf prince.
As they walked, Nephryn spoke haltingly of her time at Mordor and Orthanc, though she could not bring herself to give detail as to what had occurred at Isengard. Arwen listened without interruption, until at last the tears fell and the sobs wracked the elf-maids body.
As she cried, Arwen led Nephryn to the pools, where she sat her down at the edge. As Arwen brushed out her long silken mane, Nephryn's tears subsided.
"The White Devil told me on many occasions that I was the key needed to unlock the full potential of Eiritrî. I do not know what he meant, but he was quite certain that I knew, and so he hurt me and threatened me. But I could not tell him what I did not know."
"You must tell my father what transpired at Isengard, for there are a great many changes afoot in Middle Earth, and many may not bode well for us." As she spoke, Arwen wrapped Nephryn's hair into a chignon so that it did not fall past her shoulders. Then they stood and Arwen directed her to a pool where she could bath in private. She also pushed a bundle of clothes into arms
"I will await here for you. Do not rush."
Nephryn nodded and ambled slowly toward a copse of trees, and on the far side, she found a small, secluded pool. Slowly she stripped off her tunic and skirt and walked to the edge. The water was warm and clear, and as she immersed herself, she felt the bruising and aches dissolve. She did not resist the pull of the water and let her head sink below the surface. Her bound hair loosened and swam freely around her. She pushed upward and broke the surface, sucking in a deep cleansing breath.
She lingered like this for an eternity, letting the water strip the smell and the feel of the last two years. Finally she stepped off and towelled off with her undergarments before slipping into a beautiful sea green gown with long fitted sleeves and a square neck. The bodice fell low on her small waist, and the skirt fell neatly to a small train.
When she rejoined Arwen, the Elf-maid scolded her lightly, pulling back the hair that dripped onto the gown. She pulled her over to a small cluster of rocks, and sat her down while she pulled the excess water from her hair. Then she combed it through and braided it in a tight plait from the nape of Nephryn's neck.
As she finished plaiting it, Arwen noticed how long her hair had grown. Nephryn had always kept it so that it fell below her shoulder blades, unusually short for an elf, but Nephryn was more concerned with the practicalities of it.
'Why keep ones hair at such a length that an enemy can string you up with it' she had once said.
Even plaited, Nephryn's silken tresses now hung to her hips. Her neck was reddened and scarred, as though someone had taken a whip to her neck. Almost without thinking, Arwen traced her finger along it.
Faster than the Elf maids eye could follow, Nephryn's hand shot back and grasped Arwen's arm firmly, twisting it harshly as she turned to face her. Arwen pulled her hand back swiftly, crying out and cradling her injured limb. Almost as soon as Nephryn realised what she had done, she was back peddling and murmuring her apologies.
"Ma tanae, ma tanae... Undomiél!" Nephryn knelt down and dropped her face into her hands, rocking back and forth slowly.
"Nephryn?" Arwen knelt down and placed a cautious hand on her stricken friend's head.
"There is no harm done. I startled you, and you responded only as you knew how."
"What am I that I would hurt even those who have saved me?" Her words were muffled and her breathing punctuated with quiet sobs.
"You did not hurt me. I am tougher than that. Tell me, who inflicted those wounds?"
When she received no reply, Arwen pushed a little farther.
"Was it Saruman the White?" Arwen took the slight shudder in the elf-maid to be a nod.
They sat like that for some time, while Nephryn's tears subsided. When she sat up at last, Arwen could see a tiny flicker of the flame that used to burn bright in the elf's green eyes. Nephryn stood then, drawing herself to her full height.
"I shall cry no more today. I have given over enough time to the anguish he has imparted. I will be fine."
And with that, she took Arwen's arm, leaning lightly on her, and the journeyed slowly back to her room.
**********
Legolas was tending to his steed in the forecourt, when his thoughts were broken by the sudden and loud voice of Eirithryn.
"My Lord! I had searched all of Rivendell for you!"
"You could not have, for here I am." Legolas muttered. He quickly attributed the cynicism to the disturbing events of the past day. Calyn was dead. The One Ring resided here. Nephryn, the beautiful and long-lost elf maid seemed, somehow to be involved with this Ring. And Legolas still had diplomatic duties to fulfil.
It appeared that Eirithryn had not heard his mordant murmurs, for he was still bowing, as though awaiting permission to speak. Legolas gestured that he dispense with the formality.
"My Lord, I would speak with you regarding the burial of Calyn. I am of the view that we aught to wait until we return to Mirkwood, however Yateesh informs me that it was Calyn's wish that he would be buried along the Andúin. What say you, my Lord?"
Legolas frowned at the prospect of deciding comrade's last rites. While Legolas was unaware of the departed elf's dying wishes, he did know that it would likely be impossible to arrange for safe passage of the body back to Mirkwood in any reasonable time. When he repeated as much to Eirithryn, the Council-member nodded solemnly in agreement.
"I shall arrange for his parents to be informed immediately." With another sober bow, Eirithryn departed, leaving Legolas alone once more.
As he cast his bright eyes toward the mountains, he could see the dying embers of the spring sun draw long shadows over the peaks and dips of the rocky land. His horse stomped a large hoof impatiently on the ground, scattering up a cloud of dust that glinted as it caught the light. Legolas smiled, patting the large
grey stallion on the neck.
He was about to lead take the horse into the stables for the night when a smattering of small figures of the horizon caught his eye. Raising a hand against the glare, Legolas watched as the group drew closer. His keen sight could make out four, perhaps five horses. Undoubtedly Rivendell was their destination, but their identity and their purpose were unknown.
Reaching for his longbow and quiver, he mounted his horse and was about to depart when a familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.
"You would leave us so soon, my friend?" Aragorn stood behind him, one hand shading his eyes and the other carrying a sword and bridle.
Legolas smiled brightly, as though seeing for the first time, for he had not truly greeted his long-time friend the previous day.
"It seems I am not the only one who spies our unannounced guests." The elf gestured to the Striders sword.
"Indeed I am going to greet them, but they are expected. Elrond has despatched
me to escort the Lord Celeborn and his company here. Would you care to join me?"
"It would be my honour. Make haste. My horse grows restless." Aragorn smiled and saluted loosely before retreating to the stables to saddle up. Within minutes, both elf and man were galloping through the outlying forests, making quick time toward their rendezvous.
In less than ten minutes, the pair had reached the approaching group of visitors. Legolas could see that it was, as Aragorn had predicted, a company of ten, perhaps twelve elves. All rode white steeds, and wore customary robes of Silvan colours. Near as either man or elf could see, only three or four of the group were armed, bearing longbows and quivers. However if Lord Celeborn was among them, both Legolas and Strider knew that the elves would need very little in the way of weapons in order to protect themselves, for Celeborn was notoriously skilled in the use of archaic elven enchantment. It was by his hand and the equally skilled hands of his wife, the Lady Galadriél, that the last elven kingdom of Lothlorién was protected and maintained.
It was clear that the elves were keen trackers; for as soon as they heard sounds of Legolas and Aragorn's approach they hand sent two of the armed elves forth. Aragorn spurred his horse onward, one hand raised in greeting as he approached.
They spoke briefly and Aragorn gestured to Legolas that he follow. When they finally convened, Legolas was surprised to see that though the Woodland elves were his kindred, they were different in appearance to his own kind, the Wood elves. Their hair was slightly shorter and from their stature on the horses,
Legolas thought them to be both shorter and slighter than his own kind. All had stunning green eyes and the fairest faces, but reflected a kind of hardened outer beauty that was more akin to the first elves, who walked from the Undying Lands.
Though he had never encountered Celeborn previously, Legolas could pick him out immediately from the twelve seeming identical elves. The Lord of Lothlorién had hair the colour of moonlight, swept cleanly away from his face. Though his face bore no mark of his age, six millennia of wisdom and experience radiated from his sparkling eyes. Truly, the elf did live up in appearance to all the tales of his reputation.
"Lord Celeborn, may I introduce Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, son of Thranduil." Legolas bowed his head in deference.
"It is my honour, for I have heard much about you and your skill with the bow." When Celeborn spoke, the deep resonating timbre of his voice carried the sincerity of his words, and Legolas found already he respected the elf-lord.
"The honour is mine. Come for a great many miss deeds have occurred in these woods of late. We should proceed with all haste to the protected boundaries."
And so the company rode on quickly in silence. There would be time for pleasantries when they were all under the protective reach of Elrond and the Ring of Vilya.
When they arrived, Legolas dismounted quickly, and dispatched one of the stable hands to alert Elrond of Woodland elves. Returning to his steed, he removed the bridle and lead the horse once more into the stables. When he returned to the courtyard, he saw that Elrond had arrived and he and Celeborn spoke in low tones while Celeborn's troop tended to their mounts.
Aragorn came to stand beside him and watched as Celeborn nodded to Elrond.
"Do you think that he has informed him of Nephryn's return?" Aragorn whispered softly.
"Nay, I do not know. But whether Elrond informs him now or later, Celeborn will find out." Legolas watched as the two elf-lords walked toward the gardens, still deep in conversation.
"I think I shall go and inform Nephryn myself. She will be happy to know that her true family are here now."