Legolas took no peace that afternoon, for all his thoughts weighed heavy on
the night before. As he sat at the guest hall with Kerrinais and Gandalf,
his gaze fell from one elf maiden to the next as they busily brought out
wooden plates of fruits, breads and meats for the captains of the army.
Legolas pondered over each, scrutinizing her movements and demeanor, before
dismissing her in his mind. He seemed to have little interest in the
conversation with his peers, and it did not go without some notice. For a
brief moment, Legolas was tired of war and death, and wished only for the
happiness that a pair of lovely eyes might bestow upon him. But though he
searched, he saw no one that he thought might be her. Gandalf leaned over
to Kerrinais, a cup of tea balanced in his knarled hand.
"I'm not sure that all of us are here today," he said. Kerrinais saw that Gandalf's eyes were fixed on Legolas, in mild amusement. Kerrinais too, turned his head to watch him, half from curiosity, half from concern. He knew that his friend had not been himself since the death of Illdinar, and he began to think of the tiny blue butterfly that had settled on Legolas's hair. Was it a portent of death for his other friend? Kerrinais was not afraid for himself. He felt oddly safe considering what they were facing, but the elusive butterfly was not to be taken for granted, and he thought to mention it to Gandalf, but ultimately decided against it. Such signs always followed through to their ends, no matter what councils might be had of it. He feared that Legolas's obvious distraction might lead him to costly mistakes on the battlefield. The next morning they were to set out on the campaign to save Isodor, and they all needed to be totally in control of themselves. Even then, the outcome of Isodor was not certain.
"Legolas," he said softly. Legolas contemplated one last maiden for a moment before he turned his head to Kerrinais.
"What is the matter with you today?"
"Nothing. I was wondering..." his voice trailed off, and he stopped short of finishing the sentence when he realized that Gandalf was watching him.
At this, Gandalf's face changed from one of mild amusement, to one of stern admonishment. It was as though he had read Kerrinais's mind, and was verbalizing his very thoughts.
"We must be on our guard tomorrow," Gandalf chided, "Do not allow your fine company to erase from your mind why we are here. The forces of Sauron have now vast lands in which to plunder and multiply and fortify themselves. Rakal is a formidable foe, and we must be weary of him. Not all of his plans have been revealed to us. There is something here we are not seeing. Sauron's only thought now is to defeat the elves and take the elven strongholds. In this way he hopes to defeat all other races. We cannot be too careful in our plans to defend the city. You must be more aware, son of Thranduil."
"You are right," said Legolas standing up, "I will return by the Neolowyn tonight."
"Where are you going now?" said Kerrinais, "You've eaten nothing."
"I will go down to the glades to check the provisions," said Legolas.
Gandalf eyed him suspiciously, but said nothing. Legolas carefully stepped over the row of plates that were placed before him, and walked away from the banter of the company. Kerrinais watched him disappear out the doorway and then he turned once more to Gandalf.
"He's been away from himself since the battle at Euphratas." Kerrinais said doubtfully. Gandalf smiled, stirring his tea.
"I don't believe he is distracted because of Illdinar, I think his mind is engaged at some place other than battle." Kerrinais looked past Gandalf at the empty doorway and seemed puzzled.
"Distracted is distracted, no matter what the cause. Now is not the time for any kind of distractions. We need Legolas." Gandalf sighed and nodded in agreement. Kerrinais stood up as though to follow Legolas, but Gandalf bade him sit down again.
"Legolas, I think, knows the gravity of our situation, and he will be there at our need. Leave him for now." Kerrinais gazed at Gandalf, and was obviously not happy, but he remained. The feast continued into the afternoon.
Legolas walked quickly down the stairs towards the main circle, which led to the road. All around him elves were busily transporting sacks of food and provisions for the great gatherings of elves, arriving almost by the hour, from all parts of Middle-Earth. All came for one purpose, to defend the nearby city of Isodor, and if that failed, to defend Imladris itself. He paused for a moment, looking back up to the archway leading to the ancient stone landing where the final ceremony, the Neolowyn, or hair tying ceremony, would take place that evening. His presence there would be expected. The ritual was traditionally reserved for only the generals of the elven armies. It was an ancient ceremony where a veiled elf maiden would tie a warrior's tresses in the manner of his kindred, and then present an offering of food. In this manner, the warrior would be reminded of that which he was leaving to defend, home and family, and now, their very way of life. Of course, no one needed reminding, and until that moment, Legolas thought of abandoning the ritual that night. His time would be better spent preparing for the offensive. Still, the elves were steeped in tradition, and it would be considered an insult for any leader to refuse the rite, particularly here in Rivendell. But now Legolas looked upon the impending night with renewed interest, and he turned suddenly, making his way back up the stairs towards the archway. He could plainly hear the almost jovial atmosphere of the continuing feast, and he made his footsteps even quieter, so that none would hear him as he glided by the entranceway to the great hall. He walked directly to a tall, red-haired elf maiden, Donparamwen. She was busily attaching a garland of greenery to a scrolled pillar. She carefully hung it about the bust of a forgotten statue, protruding from the pillar, cracked and gray, yet beautiful in its simplicity.
"Donparamwen, I would speak with you."
She stopped her work, and bowed slightly to acknowledge Legolas's presence.
"How can I be of service to you, Lord Legolas?" she replied. Legolas pondered her appearance of young beauty, although by far she was more aged than he. He faltered for a moment, as if contemplating the wisdom of his action, but he was resolute.
"I would know who the Nissalos were last evening. I must speak with one of the maids that danced." Donparamwen stared at Legolas, shocked at his bold inquiry. Two maidens doing similar work on the other end of the walkway also stopped their work, slowly putting down their garlands, unable to look away. Recovering her composure, Donparamwen began once again to secure the garland.
"That I cannot do." she said, "To reveal such an identity is forbidden, unless the maid herself lift her veil to you of her own accord. But none have done so or I would know it. Perhaps you are not aware of our ways here, son of Thranduil. We have not had visitors from the great woodlands of Mirkwood for many long years, and our traditions have changed since our woodland cousins were among us, so I will not pursue this further." She continued her work, unconcerned. Legolas frowned for a moment.
"Then I would ask for the fifth Nissalos dancer for my companion this evening at the Neolowyn ceremony."
The ancient elf stopped her work again. She looked at him perplexed, as a mother would at a child who had just attempted the same mischievous prank twice.
"You ask the impossible, prince of elves. You cannot request the Neolowyn companion. I am the only one to decide, and it is not your place to tell me. This is over your boundary."
Exasperated, Legolas finally lost patience, and his penetrating stare made her suddenly uncomfortable. He stepped forward and drew his face close to her, as though to whisper where other ears could not hear, but in fact, he did not care who heard him. She stood rigid, even then afraid to move.
"I am Legolas, son of Thranduil, King of Mirkwood. You chose her for me did you not? And today you would deny me that which you gave to me freely yesterday. I will have the fifth maid for my companion at the Neolowyn tonight, and I will have no other!"
Donparamwen did not know how to answer him. Legolas glared at her, and his words burned within her, but she remained silent as a stone. The other two elf maidens waited breathlessly for her reply. Instead Donparamwen simply bowed low to Legolas, and he turned angrily and walked away, unaware of the astonished stares he had provoked.
Donparamwen felt her face flush as she watched Legolas tread quickly and silently down the stone steps. Then she looked up at the two elf maids at the end of the walkway who were still watching her in disbelief.
"You may finish here and begin work on the seating arrangements. I will return shortly, I have an errand to attend to."
The two immediately went back to their business, not daring to speak lest they should be rebuked as well. Donparamwen swept past them and down the stairwell, until she came to the beginning the main square. She walked across the ancient pathway to a small door, and, pushing it open she began climbing yet another, more narrow pathway leading up to a larger, heavier wooden door. As she approached, Donparamwen could hear the faint musical humming of the occupant inside the room. Slowly she pushed the door open, and saw Alnein, busily carving a small, wooden sculpture with a small silver knife, not unlike the one in which Lisaine possessed. Alnein looked up from her chair in surprise, and arose immediately, bowing low to her distinguished visitor. Donparamwen stood in front of Alnein, regarding her, this way and that with some curiosity, unable to account for Legolas's interest.
"Put down your carving, and make preparations! For you must be companion at Neolowyn this night." Alnein could hardly believe what she was hearing.
"What?" she whispered, "I have been summoned?! By whom?"
"Legolas, son of Thranduil, and prince of Mirkwood has bade me order you to attend him."
Alnein sat down, rigid in her seat. Her hands went cold. She could not betray Lisaine's confidence, and they would both be severely punished if the deception were discovered. Their peril was clear, and Legolas no fool. If she were to attend him as she was now commanded, it would not be difficult for Legolas to guess that she was not the one for whom he had asked. How could she possibly explain how she had let Lisaine, a mortal, take her place in the sacred elven ceremony? It was a betrayal of their very laws.
"This cannot be," she stammered, "It is not permitted to make such a request!"
"Yet," said Donparamwen, "It is so. You were the fifth maid to dance in the Nissalos, and Legolas says he will have no other than you. We cannot refuse this favor, Alnein. You need not reveal yourself to him if you do not wish it, but you must go nevertheless. But I must forewarn you; he means to speak to you on some urgent business. Be ready at sunset."
Alnein continued to object to Legolas's bold demand. Finally, knowing that further debate on the matter was futile, she reluctantly agreed. Donparamwen, now satisfied, left to continue her preparations. Alnein leaned over in her chair and put her face in her hands. She remained this way for quite some time, contemplating how to free herself and Lisaine from the grave situation in which that they now found themselves. Then, remembering Donparamwen's words, a glimmer of hope for escape of their dilemma seemed to come to her mind, and she leaped from her chair and rushed out of the room.
Lisaine had spent the morning in the wood, gathering herbs of Sage, Marjoram and others. She had just picked some of the luscious, sweet apples from her hidden tree, carefully packing each fruit into a small bag she carried with her. Each time she came to the glen, she feared that her beloved tree would be stripped of its fruit by some wild animal of the wood, but none ever had. Indeed, it was as though all hands were abstained from the tree but her own, and she picked and chose fruit at her whim. As she looked over each branch, her eyes saw a faint shadow on the ground. Looking up, on the uppermost branch, almost hidden by its leaves, was a single, large apple, ripe and luscious. It seemed to beckon her, and she wondered why she had not seen it before. Lisaine looked around her; all was quiet. Then lifting her skirts, she climbed the tree, until she thought its branches could no longer sustain her weight. With an outstretched hand, she barely touched it. Then with one last effort, she put her small foot on a thin branch and leaned further out. The branch began to bend downward and crack, but with one swift movement, she secured her prize, and stepped back again, and began the slow climb back down. Once she stood on the ground, Lisaine marveled at the deep red fruit.
"You are perfect," she thought, turning it over and over, "I shall save you for my dinner this evening." With great care, she set it into her satchel on top of the spices she had procured earlier, and lay down to reflect on the evening before. Now that the danger was over, the princess allowed the giddiness of her achievement to overwhelm her. Her face had been mere inches away from his face. Almost close enough for her to touch it.
How fine his face was! Lisaine closed her eyes, thankful the ordeal was over and that she had come away unscathed from her daring. It was here, beneath her tree, that Alnein finally found her. Lisaine was surprised at her friend's approach, but Alnein's countenance was so filled with doubt and uncertainty, that she instantly bade Alnein to sit with her beneath the great tree and divulge her troubles. For a moment, Alnein sat silent, as if to muster the exact wording of her discourse with the princess. Lisaine waited patiently on Alnein, until at last the elf maid spoke.
"I have just come away from Donparamwen, who sought me out," Alnein began. Lisaine's eyes again seemed surprised, but no fear was in them.
"Donparamwen?" said Lisaine curiously, "What did she want? Why do you tremble? Surely she was pleased with the Nissalos rituals, and I assure you dearest of friends, that none saw my face. What has happened?"
And so, Alnein told her of Legolas's request, and that Donparamwen had summoned her to the Neolowyn ceremony that evening to be servant to him. Lisaine's back stiffened slightly at the mention of Legolas's name, and she gazed at Alnein, half envious, half overcome. She presumed that Alnein, who was now painfully aware of her companion's sentiments, was concerned for her feelings. With renewed resolve and relief, Lisaine spoke.
"Then you must go as you are commanded, my friend," she said sedately, "I hold no claim to this, only that you have graciously permitted me a final glance at that which I should hold dear all my days. Be content, I hold no grudge to you." Alnein shifted uneasily on the soft leaves beneath her.
"You understand not," said Alnein slowly.
"Understand," Lisaine repeated, "What is there to understand?"
"The Nissalos; it is more than a mere dance to the Elven lords who witness it. Your face was hidden Nevariel, but Legolas knows the look of your hands, your stature, unto every movement. Even unto your very smell, he knows." As if to solidify her argument, she gently reached over and held Lisaine's hand up to her face. Lisaine could clearly smell the sweet, tangy odor of apple juice on her hand.
"He would know my touch is not yours, and therein seek out the reason why his request was not fulfilled. He is not expecting me," Alnein continued gravely, "He is expecting you."
Lisaine breathed deeply, as though unable to catch her breath. She seemed to shrink away from the very words that Alnein spoke. Having dared be part of the Nissalos was only hazardous. The Neolowyn rituals were something entirely different. Not only would she be required to put her hands on his head and braid his hair according to his people, but also she would be expected to speak the Neolowyn rite with the other elven maids and look into his sparkling, penetrating eyes once more. She was required to present him with an offering of which she had nothing. Lisaine also knew it was now customary for the maid to lift her veil at the end of the ceremony and show her face to the lord she served, and therein receive his nod in thanks. The mere thought of his horrified rage terrified her. There were few elven rites that were held more sacred. A deception here, were it discovered, would not be merely reprimanded, it would be fatal.
"I cannot do what you are asking!!" cried Lisaine, "You know I cannot! What will his anger be at my presence when he discovers me? He will know me at my voice, even if I am to stand veiled before him. You cannot ask me to do this! We will be exiled to the dark outreaches of the forest where the evil orc armies even at this moment gather for the siege. We will be outcast from these protected borders and will die at the hands of the dark legions that linger beyond! Please do not ask me! I cannot!" Lisaine's countenance by now was contorted with uncontrolled sobs and tears.
"Calm yourself," said Alnein, "It is not required that you show your face. Listen to me..." her voice trailed off. Lisaine, still sobbing, shook her head, looking away. "Be comforted. All you need do is tie the braids of the noble Teleri to him. This I know you can do. When the rites are spoken, whisper as low as you can, and he may not hear your voice above the others. Then present him with what small offering of food you may, but hold to the ritual. It must be of your own choosing. After that you may return to the Lostram with the others. I will wait upon you there, as your servant maid. I will wear the Neolowyn martsenna and my veil out to the pavilion. Legolas may speak to any Neolowyn maid only there, and he will be at some distance. An assembly of elf maids will be at hand tending to the host as they come forth, and in the chaos, he may not tell of the concealment, and thus leave content. This is the only way, Nevariel. You must." Wiping away her tears, Lisaine turned to Alnein.
"Bitter is the taste of this devotion," she said, her voice filled with despair, "I have brought you into this by my own imprudence and short- sightedness. Had I known of my deception's outcome, I would not have endangered you thus for my own folly's whims or taken risk of my lord's contempt and loathing. It would have been better had I never seen him. Forgive me! Forgive me!"
"You ask for forgiveness for no offense," Alnein said soothingly, "Were I in your place, I would have requested as the like, and you would have done no less for me. Come now; take heart. You will see your master yet once more ere he goes to Isodor, and we shall grieve tomorrow of our lonely hearts, together."
Lisaine smiled faintly, wiping her face with the back of her hand. The two stood up and made their way back to the city.
Lisaine slowly climbed the long stone stairwell that led to her room and pushed the heavy wooden door open. She stood for a moment surveying the contents of the room, looking with admiration on the fine elven scrollwork that garnished every corner of the room. "How beautiful is all of this," she thought, "truly no place I have ever lived could be as beautiful." Walking over to a chest at the foot of her bed, Lisaine opened it and carefully pulled out the opulent gown she had worn at the Nissalos the night before. She would have to wear the same one, and she almost dreaded it for the immense weight it carried. She admired the beauty of dress once more, while she checked it to make sure there was no dirt on it. The gown however, was spotless and unwrinkled. In the back of her mind, Lisaine dimly recalled the scores of gowns she owned as princess of Irwindal. She might otherwise have her pick and choice of what she liked, now she must wear the same gown twice in a fortnight. Her father would be aghast indeed to see her grovel so, even in such nobler company!
Quickly she blotted out her heavy thoughts. Each time her memory trailed back to her previous life, she inevitably began to think of her father and her last moments with him. It was too heart wrenching to bear, and she needed to think clearly. One last thing she pulled from the chest, a small hand mirror that she had brought with her during one of her many visits to Imladris. This she brought over to an end table next to her bed and propped it up against a stone urn. Sitting on the soft bed, Lisaine then began to practice braiding her own hair, in the same manner that she would be expected to perform that night. The various elf kindreds were alike, yet not. All had subtle differences. Lisaine had seen Legolas but a few times, but she knew his face well and could have carved his exact likeness in stone. She practiced the exacting braids in her own hair into the early evening. Finally, she sat back on her bed. Two trails of braided hair swept down her dress, starting at the temple and ending behind each ear, on either side of her face. Until this night, she wore a different braid, one of a different weave to the front of her ear, according to the style of the Rivendell elves. Tonight, to honor Legolas, she would wear the braid of the Mirkwood, but she reminded herself that she needed to remove the braids following the ceremony, for it would not be suitable for any other than a Mirkwood elf to wear them. She turned her head left and right, scrutinizing her work, until at last, satisfied of her success, Lisaine turned her attentions to her offering.
Walking to the bowl on the table, Lisaine looked at the beckoning fruit with a frown. Nothing seemed red enough, or smelled sweet enough. What then could she give to a prince of the most noble and fair beings in the land? Then she remembered the single, perfect apple she had picked that afternoon, and almost rushing to her satchel, she opened the bag on her bed. The apple she had plucked from the highest branch only hours earlier, fell onto the soft coverlet along with the spices and herbs she had found in the forest. Picking up a long, hard stem, she held it to her face and breathed in. Lisaine loved the smell of spices, and thought to herself that no one could be unhappy at such an offering. She brought the apple and two spices, nutmeg and cinnamon, to the table. Using a small stone bowl and a grinding stone, she ground some of each spice and mixed them together. Next, she took a small jar of honey, and put a few drops into the mixture. Finally, Lisaine took her small silver knife, and cut the huge apple into quarters. She deftly skinned each piece, and gently rubbed the quarters in the spices and honey. Opening a small drawer in the table, Lisaine chose three supple mallorn leaves and individually placed the three pieces of the dipped apple onto them, and wrapped them.
Their fragrant smell wafted up to Lisaine as she worked, and when she had finished, she took the remaining piece and ate it. A subtle, tangy taste made her mouth tingle for a moment, and then the honey and spices came through with a sweet, subdued flavor. She nodded her head in approval, and then put her treasure into the empty satchel.
Lisaine gazed out the window; it was getting towards sunset, and she would have to hurry. She put on her glittering elven gown, which seemed oddly lighter than she had remembered it from the previous night and then secured her glittering veil to her head using the comb of many colored shimmering stones that Alnein had given her. Lisaine tied her satchel to her small waist, and caught a glimpse of herself in her hand mirror, still perched on the side table. She stood there for a moment, staring at herself. She could not see her own face in her reflection, but the whole garb was glistening and refracting firelight throughout the room as though she, herself were a gem, turning around in the light. She thought for the first time that she looked elvish. Then, as if to remind her of the urgency of her departure, she heard the soft beginnings of ancient songs, summoning the Neolowyn elf maids to the Lostram. Lisaine knew the songs well, for everything that was the elvish life she admired and strove to learn. She glanced out her window terrace, a vantage point where many things could be seen. Already, there was a gathering of veiled elf maids waiting to enter the great, airy room, sheltered from all eyes by long tarps of fine woven linens that hung from the windows. As each maid wearing the martsennas appeared, two or three maids would follow her in and disappear behind the curtain. She knew the elven captains were all gathered, expectantly awaiting the start of the ceremony, seated and silent. Shaken by the beautiful music, Lisaine suddenly felt ill, and breathed deeply. Straightening her veil, she looked cautiously out her door, before swiftly heading down the steps to the square.
Lisaine quickly crossed the circlet landing keeping her eyes to the front, not daring to look at anyone that she passed. Climbing the stone steps as she had the night before, she remained fixed on the entryway to the Lostrom, her one goal. To the side, she could see Donparamwen busily engaged in a last minute adjustment of one of the long garlands that covered the archway. Lisaine held her head up high as she approached, and entered the Lostrom with no one taking notice of her. Once inside, her eyes had to adjust to the muted light of only a few torches. She surveyed the room, as she could see all maids were making final preparations to their mistress's dresses and adjusting their veils. Most were unveiled, but this Lisaine could not do. In a less lighted corner, Lisaine saw one Neolowyn maiden standing patiently alone, beautiful in a shimmering brown and gray gown covered in garnets, her face covered. Lisanine had caught a glimpse of this gown in Alnein's elven chest the day before, and she knew this was Alnein. Lisaine walked slowly towards her.
"Come," commanded Alnein, " I have been waiting on you. Turn to the left here, and look to my hem...it needs adjustment."
Lisaine came around to her side and knelt to her knees, and Alnein turned with her back now facing the other maidens. Bending over, Alnein deftly lifted a wooden tiara from her head, and placed it upon Lisaine's head, over her veil and the comb that held it. It sparkled with garnets that glowed red, and green gems, and pearls from the sea that lustered all colors in the torch firelight. Lisaine was chilled as she felt the weight of the diadem being put upon her head, and she instinctively stood erect. Alnein now took her place, adjusting the hem to Lisaine's dress. Almost instantly, Donparamwen came into the room, and everyone stopped their work and looked up expectantly. Lisaine stood terrified, not moving or looking away, thinking for a moment that the elf matron had seen the switch, but she only surveyed the group with approval and turned to stand just on the other side of the doorway.
"It is time, pelenwen," she said, and bowed low.
"Keep your mind to your business," Alnein whispered in Lisaine's ear as they began to file to the door, "Unless Legolas read your thoughts once more. Do not shake so. I will be waiting here for you when you return."
Outside the doorway, Lisaine could hear the plaintive voice of Donparamwen singing, softly at first, but then it grew louder and clearer. The elf maids slowly began their procession, single file, through the door. She was third in a line of ten, and the increased number from the Nissalos the night before gave her some small comfort. There were more than eight generals to the army, Lisaine surmised, but not all elves. Even Gandalf would not be in this company of greatness, and for that she was also grateful. The scant torchlight made the walkway barely visible to Lisaine beneath her veil, but the other Neolowyn glided up the path with little effort. The smell of jasmine and burning herbs hung heavy in the air as they approached, and Donparamwen's singing became faint as another elven maid began. As the group came to the top of the landing, Lisaine's gaze quickly scanned the seated group. There were some whom she did not recognize, but she shivered to see Lord Elrond sitting last in the assemblage. Always her thoughts were to discovery, until, at last her eyes set to the third elf seated in the group. There was Legolas, calmly looking to the elf maid who was singing softly, just beyond sight of the elven lords, beyond the adorned archway. His face did not betray any anticipation or excitement, but he sat tranquil, with his hands in his lap. In his left hand he held a long elven arrow, in his right hand, he held a glittering, silver knife (as did each of the elf lords), unsheathed, with rich scrolling on the handle. With the other elf lords, his hair lay smooth about his face, almost hiding his intense blue eyes.
When she saw Legolas, her heart raced inside her, but as she stepped towards him, all fears and doubt melted away. Slowly, solemnly the elf maids glided behind each lord, and stood quietly. From beyond sight, the soft voice of the elf maiden spoke, and each Neolowyn chanted the same prayer aloud.
Herein lie our protectors,
The high and ancient elven lords,
Keep thine arrows set to their marks,
Keep thy swords swift to thy purpose,
Our humble offerings to thy heart,
Blessed elvendom to thy fierce will,
Let not the scourge assail us,
But return to the Neolowyn, and the water, and the beauteous forest,
Or bitterest shall be our loss,
As the elf maids finished their prayer, somewhere behind them, Donparamwen began to sing again, and in one, uniform, spontaneous movement, the Neolowyn maids took one step forward. Legolas could feel the presence of the maid as she stood in back of him. He longed to turn his head and look at the beauty and symmetry that he knew was there, mere inches away, but he restrained himself. He was not allowed to make any movement. As the maid lifted her hands, his eyes darted to the side to catch a glimpse, if they could, and she stopped abruptly for a second, as if she were thinking that he would turn around. Then, the Neolowyn maids all began to tell the tale of the elven lore. The first battles of the greatest armies that overthrew the shadows of the East were spoken, and Legolas strained to drown out all sounds but her voice. Barely perceptible it was, she murmured so softly. It seemed to him that her voice was like a fiery star across the night sky, fleeting in its beauty and then gone. Always did he long for that starlight to linger a moment more, but it was gone. Only the memory of her musical whisper did he have, and it tortured him. He yearned to hear her voice again, but she did not speak to him, and he did not recognize the sound of her voice.
The lute was played, he could feel her small, soft hands upon his head, and he closed his eyes. He breathed in, and once again the sweet, delicate fragrance of the forest and of apple wood surrounded him, and Legolas knew she was the selfsame maid from the Nissalos come to him. Lisaine carefully gathered a lock of Legolas's flaxen hair, and gently pulled it away from his perfect face. Dividing the strand into three even sections, Lisaine began to gently braid, pulling one length under the far left, then another under the far right. She attempted to keep her thoughts to the task at hand, but she could not help letting herself stray, and she found it difficult to not think about how soft the touch of his hair was, and even how his noble bearing was unparalleled. Having finished the back, Lisaine moved to Legolas's side and deftly began the same two smaller braids at his temple, just behind his left, pointed ear. Standing here, Legolas's head did not move even a little to the right or left, but as Lisaine worked, she could feel his stare. She stopped for but a moment, and diverted her eyes from her labor, and she could see the same sparkle in his gaze that she had seen that first day in the gorge. She knew that he could not see her face, but just as the night before, he seemed to look through her veil and hold her in a spell, and she could not break free of it. Her hands, still holding the last remaining bit of braid, lowered till they rested on his shoulder, and for that brief instant, Lisaine was not aware of where she was or what she was doing, only that her lord was there.
Vaguely, Lisaine realized that the Neolowyn maid to her left was now waiting patiently for her to finish. She stood erect and meekly brushed the two small braids behind Legolas's shoulder. Then she moved behind him, and to his right side and began the same ritual. His heart quickened as she finished the fifth and final braid, and laid it tenderly down as she did the others. Then Lisaine moved effortlessly in front of him, standing silently. Legolas marveled at her small stature and tiny waist, and he cocked his head slightly from side to side, as though he could manage a better view of her splendor. The fine Neolowyn tiara she wore bore garnets, emeralds and pearls, and this coupled with her flowing and opulent brown and gray gown, almost assuredly meant she was of Elrond's kindred. Yet, Legolas was troubled, and he could not quite understand why. Her fairness and grace were without question, yet there was something more here, and Legolas was confounded by few puzzles.
When every maid stood before the lord they attended, Donparamwen began a different chant, and each Neolowyn bowed low to the lord before her. As Lisaine moved, Legolas watched the firelight refract off her gown and diadem in a thousand particles of light, and sparkle that was as gold dust thrown into the sunlight. Again the torment of her very presence strengthened his resolve to find out who she was, this small, delicate maiden who captivated him so completely.
The elf maid, still hidden from sight beyond the archway, began her final melodious rhymes. Instinctively, Lisaine reached to her satchel, which was virtually covered by the length of her veil. Peeling apart the mallorn leaves, she revealed the spiced apple quarter that she had prepared earlier. Cupping it in her hands, she raised her arms over her bowed head, and presented the offering to Legolas. Lisaine lifted her eyes, and held the end of the seasoned fruit almost to his very lips. He gently leaned forward, not taking his eyes from her, and bit into the offering. It seemed to Lisaine that he looked almost surprised, like Neonean was that first day in the gorge, yet he readily accepted it. Lisaine's eyes momentarily rested on the Neolowyn to her left, and realized that the other maid's offering was Lembas. She wondered if she had made a mistake by not offering so common a food, but it was too late now for such questions. Lisaine stood up before him, and saw an imagined longing in his eyes and she reprimanded herself for not having been more guarded in her entire behavior. One by one, to her right and to her left, the Neolowyn now unveiled themselves, to meet with smiles of approval, and grateful nods of the elf lords. But Lisaine stood motionless, unable to move. She realized in horror that she was the only maid to leave her face covered. The Neolowyn were not obligated to do this, but Lisaine could feel the very weight of his expectation and penetrating stare upon her, and the terror of being revealed flew back to her in an awkward moment of silence. Then the melancholy singing of Donparamwen could be heard behind the assembly again, and it was over. The maids filed quietly back down the pathway to the Lostrom, and Lisaine breathed deeply with relief that all had gone as planned.
As the maids entered the doorway, the Neolowyn servant maids met them, and they began to remove to the pavilion. Lisaine could clearly see the veiled shape of Alnein, waiting silently in the same corner where she had last seen her. Lisaine walked directly to her, not speaking, but instead she held out her hand and clasped it for a moment. Then Alnein knelt before her, as if to adjust Lisaine's gown, and Lisaine gladly returned the tiara to Alnein's forehead. Alnein stood up, lifting her veil and breathing deeply. But before Lisaine could utter a word, she heard subdued whispers from the other maids in the room. All color drained away from Alnein's face, and the princess turned her head abruptly. There she saw the slim outline of Legolas standing in the doorway.
He stood silently surveying the room. He walked calmly over to a small group of servant maids who stood to the right of the open doorway, and spoke to them quietly. Hurriedly, they gathered their belongings and left the room, glancing back several times before disappearing. Then he came slowly to where Alnein and Lisaine stood rigid. Neither of them dared to move or speak. He looked at each one as if he were unsure which was which. Finally, Legolas looked at Alnein and murmured to her in elvish. She looked intently at Lisaine, and still did not move. In a quieter voice now, Legolas spoke again, this time in the common tongue.
"Leave us now, Neolowyn, I would speak only with she who tended me tonight."
He knew. Silently, Alnein bowed before the warrior and piteously glancing once more at her friend, Alnein withdrew from the room, leaving Lisaine to face Legolas. As she stood there before him, it seemed to Lisaine that the city of Isodor would be easily defended. Legolas need only look at his enemies and they would recoil from his very presence. Standing face to face, neither said any word or made any movement. Until at length, Legolas spoke,
"It was you who danced the Nissalos last night by the moon."
Lisaine simply nodded.
"And it was you who were servant to me at Neolowyn this night." Again, Lisaine slowly nodded, keeping her eyes to the floor. Legolas took a single step closer to her, and moving his hand underneath the cover of her veil, lifted her chin until she was forced to look at him again. But Lisaine did not see anger there, only questions. Oddly, the spell of his gaze did not seem to affect her now, but Lisaine came to the realization that their deceit had not entirely been laid bare.
"I would know the name of my temptress," Legolas began again, "Can you not at least tell me your name?" She longed to speak to him, but did not dare. Her heart was wrenched. It was clear he didn't know who she was yet. She tried to remind herself of his disdain at their first meeting in the gorge, and of his indignation if he were to recognize her, and these thoughts steeled her against his tender caress now. Lisaine shook her head and Legolas sighed.
"If you will not speak to me, let me see your face, and look to your eyes, for I can feel your fear, and I would calm you. I come only to know who you are, Neolowyn, nothing more." Legolas gently began to lift Lisaine's veil, but she quickly put her hands upon his arms and stopped him. Then, taking one of his hands, Lisaine brought it underneath her the shimmering face cloth, and turning it upwards, tenderly kissed his palm. A tear trailed down her face, and he could feel the tickle of it rolling off his fingers. Lifting her arm, she touched his cheek and broke away, walking quickly out the door just as Donparamwen stepped in. From within the chamber, she could hear Donparamwen angrily chiding Legolas for his presence, but she did not hear him utter a word.
"He has not told her," Lisaine thought as she quickly walked away.
Legolas stood there momentarily, paying little attention to Donparamwen. At last, he bowed to her and spoke to her in elvish, and she seemed somewhat appeased by his action. He turned and quickly walked to the doorway, scanning the multitude that were assembled on the landing. The noise of the crowd came rushing to his ears. He searched for the maid, but she was gone. Perhaps he had been too bold, he thought. Glumly he walked through the crowd and headed towards the house of Elrond where he and Kerrinais shared a room. Legolas suddenly felt tired and thought to rest awhile, if he could, before daybreak. He was almost to his destination when his eyes fell on Gandalf and Kerrinais, walking from the direction of the glades.
"We have but 300 horse riders," said Kerrinais.
"The horses will be enough I think," said Gandalf, "In the wood, there is little room for maneuvering. We will fair better on foot, though I'm puzzled still, why would Rakal venture so far North? Surely he does not hope to battle the elves on their own ground, the elven power is increased even as far as Isodor. Ah, Legolas! Come and join our counsel!" Legolas stepped in line with them as they walked. Legolas was glad for the distraction of conversation, and he walked with them as they made their way across the square.
"It is strange," Kerrinais said at last, "At Tuluth and Irwindal his brazen assault completely took the cities by surprise. There was nothing left, not even prisoners or slaves were taken. Rakal MUST know that the elves will be better prepared in defense of Isodor and Imladris. Take Rivendell, and then even Mirkwood might be controlled. If Rakal can accomplish that immeasurable goal, there will be no one left in the North to oppose him, and Rakal would surely sit better in the Dark Lord's favor. None but Rakal would attempt such a bold feat. But Rakal's evil purpose in coming to Isodor eludes me. There is nothing there worth such efforts. It is but a small place with hardly any elves." Legolas nodded as he walked.
"Yes," agreed Legolas, "Vicious for glory as Rakal is, it is not like him to stumble from one onslaught to another. Rakal enjoys the total ruin of his conquests, and preserves his renown with his malice. He lingered and entrenched himself in the strongholds of Irwindal, and took his time in burning the forests and everything within it. He merely laid waste to Euphratas and left it. His coming here so quickly makes little sense to me, and there is no prize for his taking in Isodor, unless he intends to use it as a base to overthrow Rivendell itself." Gandalf stopped short and stood motionless, as though a sudden realization came upon him. Legolas and Kerrinais halted and looked at him.
"Perhaps he does not yet know where the prize is kept!" he exclaimed and began to walk quickly in the opposite direction, "I will speak to you in but awhile! There is something I must attend to at once!" The two friends watched Gandalf bustle away. Kerrinais turned at length to Legolas, and said,
"I am off to see to the armory. There is only a little time to complete preparations before the march tomorrow, will you come with me?"
"If we are not prepared enough now, then I don't believe the short hours until daybreak will make the difference. No. I must see to Neonean before the morning comes."
"Be weary of yourself," Kerrinais blurted out suddenly, "The effects of the Carner Blue are still upon your brow. A cloud of gloom prevails around you. I can sense it. Perhaps you should remain to secure the defense of Imladris, if it should come to that." Legolas smiled.
"Be at ease friend. I am myself. Rakal will not find in me as easy a target as his other victims. As for the Carner Blue, I cannot foresee my destiny, yet I am inclined to believe it a foretelling of good fortune and victory, rather than disaster. Peace be with you, Kerrinais." With that, Legolas left, and Kerrinais turned in the direction of the armory.
Legolas walked through the square, towards the great and ancient stone archway that heralded the entrance to Rivendell. Beyond it was the small dirt road, leading down the mountain, past the many rocky ravines and forests. The rush of the many waterfalls around Rivendell filled his ears in a symphony of water crushing against rock, mingled with the bustle of preparations for the next day's march. All about him on the road, riders rode to Rivendell from the forest encampments and back, messages being relayed for every detail and consideration of the awaiting army. Legolas barely noticed the bent, gray figure of Gandalf, galloping away from him. He considered his stature, his gray hair flying in the wind behind him. Almost as quickly as he had seen him, Gandalf disappeared, and Legolas thought no more about it. A little further down the lane, Legolas broke from the path, and began to make his way into the forest, away from the din and excitement, towards a small meadow. Neonean, it seemed, had been most content to remain there, grazing on the lush grasses and flowers, and Legolas did not insist to keep her corralled with the other horses. Neonean knew her master, and would come to his call at his need. The moon was almost at its zenith, almost completely full. The light threw eerie shadows upon the rocks and fallen tree trunks and the noise and bustle of the night faded as he made his way deeper and deeper into the woods. There was now only the rushing water, the chirping of crickets, and the wind playing with the leaves in the trees above his head.
Then a new sound broke through to the elf warrior's ears, almost as he came to the meadow. He stopped and listened. Almost a whisper, it was. So inaudibly low and soft that at first he thought to be imagining it. He took one step further. The wind suddenly changed direction, coming from the south now, and it seemed to carry the better measure of the sound over the air to him. It was clearer now. Soft and melodious, and the notes struck Legolas to his heart's very depth. He now thought he recognized the selfsame voice from the Neolowyn maiden he had seen earlier. He hastened to a clump of bushes and parted the branches, peering through the thicket. In the meadow, stood a longhaired maiden with Neonean. Her back was to him, and he could not make out her face, but the dulcet tones of her voice were unmistakable. She sang softly, whispering to the mare, stroking its muzzle with her fingertips.
Oh light of Varda, oh ancient elven wise,
Oh softness of the forest mosses, in thy elven eyes,
Thy golden hair as soft and light as morning breeze,
Thy touch I keep forever, my heart to keep for thee,
Oh warrior of Northern wood,
Of noble birth of kindred good,
To thy footsteps the lands all yearn for thus,
To bitter cry thy parting, for the fair Legolas,
He stood in awe, listening, not certain that he should interrupt the maid's reverent songs. At last he could bear no more and stepped forth through the bushes, walking steadily towards her, although she did not seem to be aware of him. Legolas was almost upon her, when the maid turned her head and realized that he was there. She jumped back, startled, and quickly began walking away. Legolas quickened his pace and called out to her,
"Hold! Be still!" The maid stopped short, and in a moment Legolas was beside her. Lisaine closed her eyes tightly, visibly shaken as she awaited the inevitable retribution of her daring, but it never came. After a few seconds, Lisaine garnered her bravery, and opened her eyes to him. The tall, handsome elf stood before her, turning his head this way and that, as if contemplating some odd dilemma, but he was smiling. Neonean had now ambled up between Lisaine and Legolas, pushing her nose at Lisaine's waist satchel. Legolas gently pushed the horse's nose to one side and stepped closer.
"I had not hoped to see you again this night, Neolowyn," he said gently. Lisaine did not know how to answer him at first. Finally, she replied weakly,
"You are mistaken, my lord. I am not a Neolowyn. Naught but the elf maidens may partake in that sacred ceremony. And as you see, I am not an elf." Legolas drew a hand through her long, sensuous hair, and his gaze rested on the two braids behind her ear. Lisaine shivered and lowered her eyes, ashamed to look at him. In the confusion of the night, Lisaine had entirely forgotten to take out the Mirkwood braids from her hair.
"Hmmmm. Indeed," he replied, still amused, "Tell me Neolowyn, neither are you Sindarin, yet you wear your hair in that manner. Is that not also forbidden?" Lisaine trembled at his touch, and she could not find the strength to move. She breathed in deeply as he patiently waited for a reply.
"You are right, Legolas. I only wear these braids to honor the noble elves of the Northern wood. But I would not offend you for any cause of my own. I shall remove them at once." Lisaine moved to pull apart the braids, but Legolas pulled her hands to her sides, and shook his head.
"Leave them, they become you," he said, "Tell me now, how came it that you are here in this meadow tonight? Why are you not in Rivendell?"
"I have come to say goodbye to thy noble steed, Legolas, who has become my friend in these last few lonely days." The great horse had now come forward again and was sniffing at Lisaine's waist satchel. Without diverting her eyes, she desperately tried to push Neonean from her. Legolas was visibly amused now, and focused his attention to the bag at her waist. Picking it up, he looked again at Lisaine.
"And I suppose you have brought her something to eat? She'll not be content with the same morsels you carry for your woodland rabbits this night. My steed would dine only on the greenest grasses and golden grains before a battle, but she seems to desire what you mean to give her. If I look to your purse, what would I find?"
"I have only a humble offering," Lisaiane replied, looking to her waist. She unconsciously opened the satchel and pulled from it one of the quarters of the prepared apple, "Not worthy of so great and beautiful a horse, but it is all I have, and the only thing that I might call my own. Only a bit of apple from an ancient tree here in the wood."
"An apple," Legolas said matter-of-factly. Lisaine fed the morsel to the great mare. Almost at once, Lisaine realized her blunder, but there was no recanting it.
"You would give my horse the selfsame offering as I? Do not deny to me who you are. I thought I knew you when I heard the first notes of your voice here in the glade, but now I am doubly sure. Brave you are to attempt such feats as you have these last few days. You have taken great risk to be at my side, maiden. Now that I stand before you once more, do not abandon the truth to me, face to face, for that indeed would be disloyal to me." Lisaine could not speak. There seemed no denying to him that it was she who came before him at both of the elven ceremonies, and now there was nothing for her but his rebuke and the inevitable consequences of her actions. Tears welled in Lisaine's eyes as she suddenly lifted her head high and confronted him.
"I only seek to honor that which I hold high above all else! Be not harsh with Alnein or myself, my lord! I begged her to allow me the honor of going in her stead at the Nissalos. And then Alnein was commanded to attend to you this night, but she knew that we would be discovered. I dared to incur thy wrath once more so that you would know the same maiden attended you. I only thought to look upon you one last time ere you went away, because I have loved none but you since the day we first met. If my broken heart at your parting tomorrow is any recompense to you, I will suffer enough! I beseech thee, do not have us exiled from Rivendell!"
"Be not afraid," he said with a softened voice, wiping her tears with his fingers, "Your secret is kept safe. Here, do not cry. A king does not suffer to punish those that risk their lives in his favor, and I would not keep thy company long away from me for any reason. How can you believe I would be the instrument of your death when you have become the instrument of my life?"
"Then...you are not angry?" said Lisaine wiping her eyes. Legolas gently smiled at her.
"Do you not think that a warrior cannot be moved to reverence? The eldar are perhaps more cautious where our hearts are placed. Perhaps we are less inclined to lose ourselves to passion than mortal kind. But it does not mean we are incapable of feelings. You have felt the connection between us, I am sure of it. Your risking every conceivable loss proves it. Destiny has foretold it. For all circumstances have worked hard to bring us to one another Nevariel, and neither of us can deny that."
Lisaine looked up at him, trying to fully comprehend the meaning of his words. She stood there, watching him, his bright, gleaming eyes, his alabaster skin, the perfect contours of his sculpted cheekbones and jaw line. He was indeed more beautiful than anyone she had ever seen. She realized, almost imperceptibly, that his face was moving closer and closer. Legolas cupped his slender hands around her face, stepped in, and pressed his lips to hers, tenderly kissing her. At length, he pulled away and whispered to her,
"I have but a few hours till the dawn, Nevariel. Sooth my heart and spend that little time with me. Walk with me in the forest and do not run again from me. For tomorrow will I be loathed to leave thy company." Lisaine put her hand to his lips.
"Speak not of Isodor, Legolas," and an expression of pain seemed to come to her face in the moonlight, "But if you will, let us walk awhile under the night sky. Lead me where you may, and I will follow you unto the very ends of the world."
And so, hand in hand, Legolas and Lisaine walked through the woods, as Neonean followed behind, munching on soft-dewed grasses and flowers. Lisaine sang softly to Legolas, elven songs of old, and he relished in the sweet, perfect tones of her voice, like a parched deer quenching its thirst at a mountain stream. They would stop walking and gaze up at the stars and the brightly lit moon at its zenith, and Legolas spoke to Lisaine the lore of the elves while Lisaine listened. At last they came to Lisaine's apple tree and sat beneath it, and Legolas pulled her close to him, to keep her warm from the chilly night breezes, and he kissed her once more. Here under the sweet perfume of ripened apples, and the soft sounds of rushing water did they speak tender words to one another, and neither gave thought to the coming day or the sadness of their parting being at hand. For the night was waning fast, and even as they arrived, the first pale stretches of pink and gray began to cover the horizon. Legolas at last looked up at the sky, attentive to the hushed breeze. Lisaine could only hear the rush of the nearby waterfalls, but she knew that he was listening to the elf army, mustering for the journey to Isodor. Legolas stared back at her with pained eyes, but Lisaine put her fingers to his lips once more, and bade him not to speak.
"I know that our time is short," she whispered, "But I beg you to take this token of my love with you and keep it to you, and know that unto you I am ever devoted."
Then without further words, Lisaine pulled her small, silver dagger from her belt, and cut two of the four Sindarin braids from her hair, one from each side of her head. She tied them together and placed the braid in his hand, and closed it around the strand. He smiled, and kissed her forehead, and standing, carefully tied the long braid of Lisaine's hair around his belt. He held his hand out to Lisaine, and she stood with him as he called to Neonean. He searched for the words that would make their parting less painful, but he had none. Neonean came trotting out from the darkness of the woods, still untouched by the first rays of morning sunlight. At last, Legolas said,
"I will return to you as soon as I may, but if our defense should fail..." tears welled in Lisaine's eyes, and she shook her head as if bidding him not to speak his thoughts. He lifted his hand and ran his fingers through Lisaine's hair once more to calm her.
"If the defense of Isodor should fail, Nevariel," Legolas continued gravely, "You must leave here, for it will not be safe. There will not be enough elves left to defend Rivendell. Take whom you may, then go to Mirkwood. Seek out my father, and tell him I have sent you and he will protect you until I return." Slowly she nodded as she watched him lightly jump on the back of Neonean. Legolas bowed and touched his hand to his chest and then opened it towards Lisaine in a parting gesture. Then, Legolas and Neonean galloped away, leaving Lisaine standing alone underneath the apple tree.
"I'm not sure that all of us are here today," he said. Kerrinais saw that Gandalf's eyes were fixed on Legolas, in mild amusement. Kerrinais too, turned his head to watch him, half from curiosity, half from concern. He knew that his friend had not been himself since the death of Illdinar, and he began to think of the tiny blue butterfly that had settled on Legolas's hair. Was it a portent of death for his other friend? Kerrinais was not afraid for himself. He felt oddly safe considering what they were facing, but the elusive butterfly was not to be taken for granted, and he thought to mention it to Gandalf, but ultimately decided against it. Such signs always followed through to their ends, no matter what councils might be had of it. He feared that Legolas's obvious distraction might lead him to costly mistakes on the battlefield. The next morning they were to set out on the campaign to save Isodor, and they all needed to be totally in control of themselves. Even then, the outcome of Isodor was not certain.
"Legolas," he said softly. Legolas contemplated one last maiden for a moment before he turned his head to Kerrinais.
"What is the matter with you today?"
"Nothing. I was wondering..." his voice trailed off, and he stopped short of finishing the sentence when he realized that Gandalf was watching him.
At this, Gandalf's face changed from one of mild amusement, to one of stern admonishment. It was as though he had read Kerrinais's mind, and was verbalizing his very thoughts.
"We must be on our guard tomorrow," Gandalf chided, "Do not allow your fine company to erase from your mind why we are here. The forces of Sauron have now vast lands in which to plunder and multiply and fortify themselves. Rakal is a formidable foe, and we must be weary of him. Not all of his plans have been revealed to us. There is something here we are not seeing. Sauron's only thought now is to defeat the elves and take the elven strongholds. In this way he hopes to defeat all other races. We cannot be too careful in our plans to defend the city. You must be more aware, son of Thranduil."
"You are right," said Legolas standing up, "I will return by the Neolowyn tonight."
"Where are you going now?" said Kerrinais, "You've eaten nothing."
"I will go down to the glades to check the provisions," said Legolas.
Gandalf eyed him suspiciously, but said nothing. Legolas carefully stepped over the row of plates that were placed before him, and walked away from the banter of the company. Kerrinais watched him disappear out the doorway and then he turned once more to Gandalf.
"He's been away from himself since the battle at Euphratas." Kerrinais said doubtfully. Gandalf smiled, stirring his tea.
"I don't believe he is distracted because of Illdinar, I think his mind is engaged at some place other than battle." Kerrinais looked past Gandalf at the empty doorway and seemed puzzled.
"Distracted is distracted, no matter what the cause. Now is not the time for any kind of distractions. We need Legolas." Gandalf sighed and nodded in agreement. Kerrinais stood up as though to follow Legolas, but Gandalf bade him sit down again.
"Legolas, I think, knows the gravity of our situation, and he will be there at our need. Leave him for now." Kerrinais gazed at Gandalf, and was obviously not happy, but he remained. The feast continued into the afternoon.
Legolas walked quickly down the stairs towards the main circle, which led to the road. All around him elves were busily transporting sacks of food and provisions for the great gatherings of elves, arriving almost by the hour, from all parts of Middle-Earth. All came for one purpose, to defend the nearby city of Isodor, and if that failed, to defend Imladris itself. He paused for a moment, looking back up to the archway leading to the ancient stone landing where the final ceremony, the Neolowyn, or hair tying ceremony, would take place that evening. His presence there would be expected. The ritual was traditionally reserved for only the generals of the elven armies. It was an ancient ceremony where a veiled elf maiden would tie a warrior's tresses in the manner of his kindred, and then present an offering of food. In this manner, the warrior would be reminded of that which he was leaving to defend, home and family, and now, their very way of life. Of course, no one needed reminding, and until that moment, Legolas thought of abandoning the ritual that night. His time would be better spent preparing for the offensive. Still, the elves were steeped in tradition, and it would be considered an insult for any leader to refuse the rite, particularly here in Rivendell. But now Legolas looked upon the impending night with renewed interest, and he turned suddenly, making his way back up the stairs towards the archway. He could plainly hear the almost jovial atmosphere of the continuing feast, and he made his footsteps even quieter, so that none would hear him as he glided by the entranceway to the great hall. He walked directly to a tall, red-haired elf maiden, Donparamwen. She was busily attaching a garland of greenery to a scrolled pillar. She carefully hung it about the bust of a forgotten statue, protruding from the pillar, cracked and gray, yet beautiful in its simplicity.
"Donparamwen, I would speak with you."
She stopped her work, and bowed slightly to acknowledge Legolas's presence.
"How can I be of service to you, Lord Legolas?" she replied. Legolas pondered her appearance of young beauty, although by far she was more aged than he. He faltered for a moment, as if contemplating the wisdom of his action, but he was resolute.
"I would know who the Nissalos were last evening. I must speak with one of the maids that danced." Donparamwen stared at Legolas, shocked at his bold inquiry. Two maidens doing similar work on the other end of the walkway also stopped their work, slowly putting down their garlands, unable to look away. Recovering her composure, Donparamwen began once again to secure the garland.
"That I cannot do." she said, "To reveal such an identity is forbidden, unless the maid herself lift her veil to you of her own accord. But none have done so or I would know it. Perhaps you are not aware of our ways here, son of Thranduil. We have not had visitors from the great woodlands of Mirkwood for many long years, and our traditions have changed since our woodland cousins were among us, so I will not pursue this further." She continued her work, unconcerned. Legolas frowned for a moment.
"Then I would ask for the fifth Nissalos dancer for my companion this evening at the Neolowyn ceremony."
The ancient elf stopped her work again. She looked at him perplexed, as a mother would at a child who had just attempted the same mischievous prank twice.
"You ask the impossible, prince of elves. You cannot request the Neolowyn companion. I am the only one to decide, and it is not your place to tell me. This is over your boundary."
Exasperated, Legolas finally lost patience, and his penetrating stare made her suddenly uncomfortable. He stepped forward and drew his face close to her, as though to whisper where other ears could not hear, but in fact, he did not care who heard him. She stood rigid, even then afraid to move.
"I am Legolas, son of Thranduil, King of Mirkwood. You chose her for me did you not? And today you would deny me that which you gave to me freely yesterday. I will have the fifth maid for my companion at the Neolowyn tonight, and I will have no other!"
Donparamwen did not know how to answer him. Legolas glared at her, and his words burned within her, but she remained silent as a stone. The other two elf maidens waited breathlessly for her reply. Instead Donparamwen simply bowed low to Legolas, and he turned angrily and walked away, unaware of the astonished stares he had provoked.
Donparamwen felt her face flush as she watched Legolas tread quickly and silently down the stone steps. Then she looked up at the two elf maids at the end of the walkway who were still watching her in disbelief.
"You may finish here and begin work on the seating arrangements. I will return shortly, I have an errand to attend to."
The two immediately went back to their business, not daring to speak lest they should be rebuked as well. Donparamwen swept past them and down the stairwell, until she came to the beginning the main square. She walked across the ancient pathway to a small door, and, pushing it open she began climbing yet another, more narrow pathway leading up to a larger, heavier wooden door. As she approached, Donparamwen could hear the faint musical humming of the occupant inside the room. Slowly she pushed the door open, and saw Alnein, busily carving a small, wooden sculpture with a small silver knife, not unlike the one in which Lisaine possessed. Alnein looked up from her chair in surprise, and arose immediately, bowing low to her distinguished visitor. Donparamwen stood in front of Alnein, regarding her, this way and that with some curiosity, unable to account for Legolas's interest.
"Put down your carving, and make preparations! For you must be companion at Neolowyn this night." Alnein could hardly believe what she was hearing.
"What?" she whispered, "I have been summoned?! By whom?"
"Legolas, son of Thranduil, and prince of Mirkwood has bade me order you to attend him."
Alnein sat down, rigid in her seat. Her hands went cold. She could not betray Lisaine's confidence, and they would both be severely punished if the deception were discovered. Their peril was clear, and Legolas no fool. If she were to attend him as she was now commanded, it would not be difficult for Legolas to guess that she was not the one for whom he had asked. How could she possibly explain how she had let Lisaine, a mortal, take her place in the sacred elven ceremony? It was a betrayal of their very laws.
"This cannot be," she stammered, "It is not permitted to make such a request!"
"Yet," said Donparamwen, "It is so. You were the fifth maid to dance in the Nissalos, and Legolas says he will have no other than you. We cannot refuse this favor, Alnein. You need not reveal yourself to him if you do not wish it, but you must go nevertheless. But I must forewarn you; he means to speak to you on some urgent business. Be ready at sunset."
Alnein continued to object to Legolas's bold demand. Finally, knowing that further debate on the matter was futile, she reluctantly agreed. Donparamwen, now satisfied, left to continue her preparations. Alnein leaned over in her chair and put her face in her hands. She remained this way for quite some time, contemplating how to free herself and Lisaine from the grave situation in which that they now found themselves. Then, remembering Donparamwen's words, a glimmer of hope for escape of their dilemma seemed to come to her mind, and she leaped from her chair and rushed out of the room.
Lisaine had spent the morning in the wood, gathering herbs of Sage, Marjoram and others. She had just picked some of the luscious, sweet apples from her hidden tree, carefully packing each fruit into a small bag she carried with her. Each time she came to the glen, she feared that her beloved tree would be stripped of its fruit by some wild animal of the wood, but none ever had. Indeed, it was as though all hands were abstained from the tree but her own, and she picked and chose fruit at her whim. As she looked over each branch, her eyes saw a faint shadow on the ground. Looking up, on the uppermost branch, almost hidden by its leaves, was a single, large apple, ripe and luscious. It seemed to beckon her, and she wondered why she had not seen it before. Lisaine looked around her; all was quiet. Then lifting her skirts, she climbed the tree, until she thought its branches could no longer sustain her weight. With an outstretched hand, she barely touched it. Then with one last effort, she put her small foot on a thin branch and leaned further out. The branch began to bend downward and crack, but with one swift movement, she secured her prize, and stepped back again, and began the slow climb back down. Once she stood on the ground, Lisaine marveled at the deep red fruit.
"You are perfect," she thought, turning it over and over, "I shall save you for my dinner this evening." With great care, she set it into her satchel on top of the spices she had procured earlier, and lay down to reflect on the evening before. Now that the danger was over, the princess allowed the giddiness of her achievement to overwhelm her. Her face had been mere inches away from his face. Almost close enough for her to touch it.
How fine his face was! Lisaine closed her eyes, thankful the ordeal was over and that she had come away unscathed from her daring. It was here, beneath her tree, that Alnein finally found her. Lisaine was surprised at her friend's approach, but Alnein's countenance was so filled with doubt and uncertainty, that she instantly bade Alnein to sit with her beneath the great tree and divulge her troubles. For a moment, Alnein sat silent, as if to muster the exact wording of her discourse with the princess. Lisaine waited patiently on Alnein, until at last the elf maid spoke.
"I have just come away from Donparamwen, who sought me out," Alnein began. Lisaine's eyes again seemed surprised, but no fear was in them.
"Donparamwen?" said Lisaine curiously, "What did she want? Why do you tremble? Surely she was pleased with the Nissalos rituals, and I assure you dearest of friends, that none saw my face. What has happened?"
And so, Alnein told her of Legolas's request, and that Donparamwen had summoned her to the Neolowyn ceremony that evening to be servant to him. Lisaine's back stiffened slightly at the mention of Legolas's name, and she gazed at Alnein, half envious, half overcome. She presumed that Alnein, who was now painfully aware of her companion's sentiments, was concerned for her feelings. With renewed resolve and relief, Lisaine spoke.
"Then you must go as you are commanded, my friend," she said sedately, "I hold no claim to this, only that you have graciously permitted me a final glance at that which I should hold dear all my days. Be content, I hold no grudge to you." Alnein shifted uneasily on the soft leaves beneath her.
"You understand not," said Alnein slowly.
"Understand," Lisaine repeated, "What is there to understand?"
"The Nissalos; it is more than a mere dance to the Elven lords who witness it. Your face was hidden Nevariel, but Legolas knows the look of your hands, your stature, unto every movement. Even unto your very smell, he knows." As if to solidify her argument, she gently reached over and held Lisaine's hand up to her face. Lisaine could clearly smell the sweet, tangy odor of apple juice on her hand.
"He would know my touch is not yours, and therein seek out the reason why his request was not fulfilled. He is not expecting me," Alnein continued gravely, "He is expecting you."
Lisaine breathed deeply, as though unable to catch her breath. She seemed to shrink away from the very words that Alnein spoke. Having dared be part of the Nissalos was only hazardous. The Neolowyn rituals were something entirely different. Not only would she be required to put her hands on his head and braid his hair according to his people, but also she would be expected to speak the Neolowyn rite with the other elven maids and look into his sparkling, penetrating eyes once more. She was required to present him with an offering of which she had nothing. Lisaine also knew it was now customary for the maid to lift her veil at the end of the ceremony and show her face to the lord she served, and therein receive his nod in thanks. The mere thought of his horrified rage terrified her. There were few elven rites that were held more sacred. A deception here, were it discovered, would not be merely reprimanded, it would be fatal.
"I cannot do what you are asking!!" cried Lisaine, "You know I cannot! What will his anger be at my presence when he discovers me? He will know me at my voice, even if I am to stand veiled before him. You cannot ask me to do this! We will be exiled to the dark outreaches of the forest where the evil orc armies even at this moment gather for the siege. We will be outcast from these protected borders and will die at the hands of the dark legions that linger beyond! Please do not ask me! I cannot!" Lisaine's countenance by now was contorted with uncontrolled sobs and tears.
"Calm yourself," said Alnein, "It is not required that you show your face. Listen to me..." her voice trailed off. Lisaine, still sobbing, shook her head, looking away. "Be comforted. All you need do is tie the braids of the noble Teleri to him. This I know you can do. When the rites are spoken, whisper as low as you can, and he may not hear your voice above the others. Then present him with what small offering of food you may, but hold to the ritual. It must be of your own choosing. After that you may return to the Lostram with the others. I will wait upon you there, as your servant maid. I will wear the Neolowyn martsenna and my veil out to the pavilion. Legolas may speak to any Neolowyn maid only there, and he will be at some distance. An assembly of elf maids will be at hand tending to the host as they come forth, and in the chaos, he may not tell of the concealment, and thus leave content. This is the only way, Nevariel. You must." Wiping away her tears, Lisaine turned to Alnein.
"Bitter is the taste of this devotion," she said, her voice filled with despair, "I have brought you into this by my own imprudence and short- sightedness. Had I known of my deception's outcome, I would not have endangered you thus for my own folly's whims or taken risk of my lord's contempt and loathing. It would have been better had I never seen him. Forgive me! Forgive me!"
"You ask for forgiveness for no offense," Alnein said soothingly, "Were I in your place, I would have requested as the like, and you would have done no less for me. Come now; take heart. You will see your master yet once more ere he goes to Isodor, and we shall grieve tomorrow of our lonely hearts, together."
Lisaine smiled faintly, wiping her face with the back of her hand. The two stood up and made their way back to the city.
Lisaine slowly climbed the long stone stairwell that led to her room and pushed the heavy wooden door open. She stood for a moment surveying the contents of the room, looking with admiration on the fine elven scrollwork that garnished every corner of the room. "How beautiful is all of this," she thought, "truly no place I have ever lived could be as beautiful." Walking over to a chest at the foot of her bed, Lisaine opened it and carefully pulled out the opulent gown she had worn at the Nissalos the night before. She would have to wear the same one, and she almost dreaded it for the immense weight it carried. She admired the beauty of dress once more, while she checked it to make sure there was no dirt on it. The gown however, was spotless and unwrinkled. In the back of her mind, Lisaine dimly recalled the scores of gowns she owned as princess of Irwindal. She might otherwise have her pick and choice of what she liked, now she must wear the same gown twice in a fortnight. Her father would be aghast indeed to see her grovel so, even in such nobler company!
Quickly she blotted out her heavy thoughts. Each time her memory trailed back to her previous life, she inevitably began to think of her father and her last moments with him. It was too heart wrenching to bear, and she needed to think clearly. One last thing she pulled from the chest, a small hand mirror that she had brought with her during one of her many visits to Imladris. This she brought over to an end table next to her bed and propped it up against a stone urn. Sitting on the soft bed, Lisaine then began to practice braiding her own hair, in the same manner that she would be expected to perform that night. The various elf kindreds were alike, yet not. All had subtle differences. Lisaine had seen Legolas but a few times, but she knew his face well and could have carved his exact likeness in stone. She practiced the exacting braids in her own hair into the early evening. Finally, she sat back on her bed. Two trails of braided hair swept down her dress, starting at the temple and ending behind each ear, on either side of her face. Until this night, she wore a different braid, one of a different weave to the front of her ear, according to the style of the Rivendell elves. Tonight, to honor Legolas, she would wear the braid of the Mirkwood, but she reminded herself that she needed to remove the braids following the ceremony, for it would not be suitable for any other than a Mirkwood elf to wear them. She turned her head left and right, scrutinizing her work, until at last, satisfied of her success, Lisaine turned her attentions to her offering.
Walking to the bowl on the table, Lisaine looked at the beckoning fruit with a frown. Nothing seemed red enough, or smelled sweet enough. What then could she give to a prince of the most noble and fair beings in the land? Then she remembered the single, perfect apple she had picked that afternoon, and almost rushing to her satchel, she opened the bag on her bed. The apple she had plucked from the highest branch only hours earlier, fell onto the soft coverlet along with the spices and herbs she had found in the forest. Picking up a long, hard stem, she held it to her face and breathed in. Lisaine loved the smell of spices, and thought to herself that no one could be unhappy at such an offering. She brought the apple and two spices, nutmeg and cinnamon, to the table. Using a small stone bowl and a grinding stone, she ground some of each spice and mixed them together. Next, she took a small jar of honey, and put a few drops into the mixture. Finally, Lisaine took her small silver knife, and cut the huge apple into quarters. She deftly skinned each piece, and gently rubbed the quarters in the spices and honey. Opening a small drawer in the table, Lisaine chose three supple mallorn leaves and individually placed the three pieces of the dipped apple onto them, and wrapped them.
Their fragrant smell wafted up to Lisaine as she worked, and when she had finished, she took the remaining piece and ate it. A subtle, tangy taste made her mouth tingle for a moment, and then the honey and spices came through with a sweet, subdued flavor. She nodded her head in approval, and then put her treasure into the empty satchel.
Lisaine gazed out the window; it was getting towards sunset, and she would have to hurry. She put on her glittering elven gown, which seemed oddly lighter than she had remembered it from the previous night and then secured her glittering veil to her head using the comb of many colored shimmering stones that Alnein had given her. Lisaine tied her satchel to her small waist, and caught a glimpse of herself in her hand mirror, still perched on the side table. She stood there for a moment, staring at herself. She could not see her own face in her reflection, but the whole garb was glistening and refracting firelight throughout the room as though she, herself were a gem, turning around in the light. She thought for the first time that she looked elvish. Then, as if to remind her of the urgency of her departure, she heard the soft beginnings of ancient songs, summoning the Neolowyn elf maids to the Lostram. Lisaine knew the songs well, for everything that was the elvish life she admired and strove to learn. She glanced out her window terrace, a vantage point where many things could be seen. Already, there was a gathering of veiled elf maids waiting to enter the great, airy room, sheltered from all eyes by long tarps of fine woven linens that hung from the windows. As each maid wearing the martsennas appeared, two or three maids would follow her in and disappear behind the curtain. She knew the elven captains were all gathered, expectantly awaiting the start of the ceremony, seated and silent. Shaken by the beautiful music, Lisaine suddenly felt ill, and breathed deeply. Straightening her veil, she looked cautiously out her door, before swiftly heading down the steps to the square.
Lisaine quickly crossed the circlet landing keeping her eyes to the front, not daring to look at anyone that she passed. Climbing the stone steps as she had the night before, she remained fixed on the entryway to the Lostrom, her one goal. To the side, she could see Donparamwen busily engaged in a last minute adjustment of one of the long garlands that covered the archway. Lisaine held her head up high as she approached, and entered the Lostrom with no one taking notice of her. Once inside, her eyes had to adjust to the muted light of only a few torches. She surveyed the room, as she could see all maids were making final preparations to their mistress's dresses and adjusting their veils. Most were unveiled, but this Lisaine could not do. In a less lighted corner, Lisaine saw one Neolowyn maiden standing patiently alone, beautiful in a shimmering brown and gray gown covered in garnets, her face covered. Lisanine had caught a glimpse of this gown in Alnein's elven chest the day before, and she knew this was Alnein. Lisaine walked slowly towards her.
"Come," commanded Alnein, " I have been waiting on you. Turn to the left here, and look to my hem...it needs adjustment."
Lisaine came around to her side and knelt to her knees, and Alnein turned with her back now facing the other maidens. Bending over, Alnein deftly lifted a wooden tiara from her head, and placed it upon Lisaine's head, over her veil and the comb that held it. It sparkled with garnets that glowed red, and green gems, and pearls from the sea that lustered all colors in the torch firelight. Lisaine was chilled as she felt the weight of the diadem being put upon her head, and she instinctively stood erect. Alnein now took her place, adjusting the hem to Lisaine's dress. Almost instantly, Donparamwen came into the room, and everyone stopped their work and looked up expectantly. Lisaine stood terrified, not moving or looking away, thinking for a moment that the elf matron had seen the switch, but she only surveyed the group with approval and turned to stand just on the other side of the doorway.
"It is time, pelenwen," she said, and bowed low.
"Keep your mind to your business," Alnein whispered in Lisaine's ear as they began to file to the door, "Unless Legolas read your thoughts once more. Do not shake so. I will be waiting here for you when you return."
Outside the doorway, Lisaine could hear the plaintive voice of Donparamwen singing, softly at first, but then it grew louder and clearer. The elf maids slowly began their procession, single file, through the door. She was third in a line of ten, and the increased number from the Nissalos the night before gave her some small comfort. There were more than eight generals to the army, Lisaine surmised, but not all elves. Even Gandalf would not be in this company of greatness, and for that she was also grateful. The scant torchlight made the walkway barely visible to Lisaine beneath her veil, but the other Neolowyn glided up the path with little effort. The smell of jasmine and burning herbs hung heavy in the air as they approached, and Donparamwen's singing became faint as another elven maid began. As the group came to the top of the landing, Lisaine's gaze quickly scanned the seated group. There were some whom she did not recognize, but she shivered to see Lord Elrond sitting last in the assemblage. Always her thoughts were to discovery, until, at last her eyes set to the third elf seated in the group. There was Legolas, calmly looking to the elf maid who was singing softly, just beyond sight of the elven lords, beyond the adorned archway. His face did not betray any anticipation or excitement, but he sat tranquil, with his hands in his lap. In his left hand he held a long elven arrow, in his right hand, he held a glittering, silver knife (as did each of the elf lords), unsheathed, with rich scrolling on the handle. With the other elf lords, his hair lay smooth about his face, almost hiding his intense blue eyes.
When she saw Legolas, her heart raced inside her, but as she stepped towards him, all fears and doubt melted away. Slowly, solemnly the elf maids glided behind each lord, and stood quietly. From beyond sight, the soft voice of the elf maiden spoke, and each Neolowyn chanted the same prayer aloud.
Herein lie our protectors,
The high and ancient elven lords,
Keep thine arrows set to their marks,
Keep thy swords swift to thy purpose,
Our humble offerings to thy heart,
Blessed elvendom to thy fierce will,
Let not the scourge assail us,
But return to the Neolowyn, and the water, and the beauteous forest,
Or bitterest shall be our loss,
As the elf maids finished their prayer, somewhere behind them, Donparamwen began to sing again, and in one, uniform, spontaneous movement, the Neolowyn maids took one step forward. Legolas could feel the presence of the maid as she stood in back of him. He longed to turn his head and look at the beauty and symmetry that he knew was there, mere inches away, but he restrained himself. He was not allowed to make any movement. As the maid lifted her hands, his eyes darted to the side to catch a glimpse, if they could, and she stopped abruptly for a second, as if she were thinking that he would turn around. Then, the Neolowyn maids all began to tell the tale of the elven lore. The first battles of the greatest armies that overthrew the shadows of the East were spoken, and Legolas strained to drown out all sounds but her voice. Barely perceptible it was, she murmured so softly. It seemed to him that her voice was like a fiery star across the night sky, fleeting in its beauty and then gone. Always did he long for that starlight to linger a moment more, but it was gone. Only the memory of her musical whisper did he have, and it tortured him. He yearned to hear her voice again, but she did not speak to him, and he did not recognize the sound of her voice.
The lute was played, he could feel her small, soft hands upon his head, and he closed his eyes. He breathed in, and once again the sweet, delicate fragrance of the forest and of apple wood surrounded him, and Legolas knew she was the selfsame maid from the Nissalos come to him. Lisaine carefully gathered a lock of Legolas's flaxen hair, and gently pulled it away from his perfect face. Dividing the strand into three even sections, Lisaine began to gently braid, pulling one length under the far left, then another under the far right. She attempted to keep her thoughts to the task at hand, but she could not help letting herself stray, and she found it difficult to not think about how soft the touch of his hair was, and even how his noble bearing was unparalleled. Having finished the back, Lisaine moved to Legolas's side and deftly began the same two smaller braids at his temple, just behind his left, pointed ear. Standing here, Legolas's head did not move even a little to the right or left, but as Lisaine worked, she could feel his stare. She stopped for but a moment, and diverted her eyes from her labor, and she could see the same sparkle in his gaze that she had seen that first day in the gorge. She knew that he could not see her face, but just as the night before, he seemed to look through her veil and hold her in a spell, and she could not break free of it. Her hands, still holding the last remaining bit of braid, lowered till they rested on his shoulder, and for that brief instant, Lisaine was not aware of where she was or what she was doing, only that her lord was there.
Vaguely, Lisaine realized that the Neolowyn maid to her left was now waiting patiently for her to finish. She stood erect and meekly brushed the two small braids behind Legolas's shoulder. Then she moved behind him, and to his right side and began the same ritual. His heart quickened as she finished the fifth and final braid, and laid it tenderly down as she did the others. Then Lisaine moved effortlessly in front of him, standing silently. Legolas marveled at her small stature and tiny waist, and he cocked his head slightly from side to side, as though he could manage a better view of her splendor. The fine Neolowyn tiara she wore bore garnets, emeralds and pearls, and this coupled with her flowing and opulent brown and gray gown, almost assuredly meant she was of Elrond's kindred. Yet, Legolas was troubled, and he could not quite understand why. Her fairness and grace were without question, yet there was something more here, and Legolas was confounded by few puzzles.
When every maid stood before the lord they attended, Donparamwen began a different chant, and each Neolowyn bowed low to the lord before her. As Lisaine moved, Legolas watched the firelight refract off her gown and diadem in a thousand particles of light, and sparkle that was as gold dust thrown into the sunlight. Again the torment of her very presence strengthened his resolve to find out who she was, this small, delicate maiden who captivated him so completely.
The elf maid, still hidden from sight beyond the archway, began her final melodious rhymes. Instinctively, Lisaine reached to her satchel, which was virtually covered by the length of her veil. Peeling apart the mallorn leaves, she revealed the spiced apple quarter that she had prepared earlier. Cupping it in her hands, she raised her arms over her bowed head, and presented the offering to Legolas. Lisaine lifted her eyes, and held the end of the seasoned fruit almost to his very lips. He gently leaned forward, not taking his eyes from her, and bit into the offering. It seemed to Lisaine that he looked almost surprised, like Neonean was that first day in the gorge, yet he readily accepted it. Lisaine's eyes momentarily rested on the Neolowyn to her left, and realized that the other maid's offering was Lembas. She wondered if she had made a mistake by not offering so common a food, but it was too late now for such questions. Lisaine stood up before him, and saw an imagined longing in his eyes and she reprimanded herself for not having been more guarded in her entire behavior. One by one, to her right and to her left, the Neolowyn now unveiled themselves, to meet with smiles of approval, and grateful nods of the elf lords. But Lisaine stood motionless, unable to move. She realized in horror that she was the only maid to leave her face covered. The Neolowyn were not obligated to do this, but Lisaine could feel the very weight of his expectation and penetrating stare upon her, and the terror of being revealed flew back to her in an awkward moment of silence. Then the melancholy singing of Donparamwen could be heard behind the assembly again, and it was over. The maids filed quietly back down the pathway to the Lostrom, and Lisaine breathed deeply with relief that all had gone as planned.
As the maids entered the doorway, the Neolowyn servant maids met them, and they began to remove to the pavilion. Lisaine could clearly see the veiled shape of Alnein, waiting silently in the same corner where she had last seen her. Lisaine walked directly to her, not speaking, but instead she held out her hand and clasped it for a moment. Then Alnein knelt before her, as if to adjust Lisaine's gown, and Lisaine gladly returned the tiara to Alnein's forehead. Alnein stood up, lifting her veil and breathing deeply. But before Lisaine could utter a word, she heard subdued whispers from the other maids in the room. All color drained away from Alnein's face, and the princess turned her head abruptly. There she saw the slim outline of Legolas standing in the doorway.
He stood silently surveying the room. He walked calmly over to a small group of servant maids who stood to the right of the open doorway, and spoke to them quietly. Hurriedly, they gathered their belongings and left the room, glancing back several times before disappearing. Then he came slowly to where Alnein and Lisaine stood rigid. Neither of them dared to move or speak. He looked at each one as if he were unsure which was which. Finally, Legolas looked at Alnein and murmured to her in elvish. She looked intently at Lisaine, and still did not move. In a quieter voice now, Legolas spoke again, this time in the common tongue.
"Leave us now, Neolowyn, I would speak only with she who tended me tonight."
He knew. Silently, Alnein bowed before the warrior and piteously glancing once more at her friend, Alnein withdrew from the room, leaving Lisaine to face Legolas. As she stood there before him, it seemed to Lisaine that the city of Isodor would be easily defended. Legolas need only look at his enemies and they would recoil from his very presence. Standing face to face, neither said any word or made any movement. Until at length, Legolas spoke,
"It was you who danced the Nissalos last night by the moon."
Lisaine simply nodded.
"And it was you who were servant to me at Neolowyn this night." Again, Lisaine slowly nodded, keeping her eyes to the floor. Legolas took a single step closer to her, and moving his hand underneath the cover of her veil, lifted her chin until she was forced to look at him again. But Lisaine did not see anger there, only questions. Oddly, the spell of his gaze did not seem to affect her now, but Lisaine came to the realization that their deceit had not entirely been laid bare.
"I would know the name of my temptress," Legolas began again, "Can you not at least tell me your name?" She longed to speak to him, but did not dare. Her heart was wrenched. It was clear he didn't know who she was yet. She tried to remind herself of his disdain at their first meeting in the gorge, and of his indignation if he were to recognize her, and these thoughts steeled her against his tender caress now. Lisaine shook her head and Legolas sighed.
"If you will not speak to me, let me see your face, and look to your eyes, for I can feel your fear, and I would calm you. I come only to know who you are, Neolowyn, nothing more." Legolas gently began to lift Lisaine's veil, but she quickly put her hands upon his arms and stopped him. Then, taking one of his hands, Lisaine brought it underneath her the shimmering face cloth, and turning it upwards, tenderly kissed his palm. A tear trailed down her face, and he could feel the tickle of it rolling off his fingers. Lifting her arm, she touched his cheek and broke away, walking quickly out the door just as Donparamwen stepped in. From within the chamber, she could hear Donparamwen angrily chiding Legolas for his presence, but she did not hear him utter a word.
"He has not told her," Lisaine thought as she quickly walked away.
Legolas stood there momentarily, paying little attention to Donparamwen. At last, he bowed to her and spoke to her in elvish, and she seemed somewhat appeased by his action. He turned and quickly walked to the doorway, scanning the multitude that were assembled on the landing. The noise of the crowd came rushing to his ears. He searched for the maid, but she was gone. Perhaps he had been too bold, he thought. Glumly he walked through the crowd and headed towards the house of Elrond where he and Kerrinais shared a room. Legolas suddenly felt tired and thought to rest awhile, if he could, before daybreak. He was almost to his destination when his eyes fell on Gandalf and Kerrinais, walking from the direction of the glades.
"We have but 300 horse riders," said Kerrinais.
"The horses will be enough I think," said Gandalf, "In the wood, there is little room for maneuvering. We will fair better on foot, though I'm puzzled still, why would Rakal venture so far North? Surely he does not hope to battle the elves on their own ground, the elven power is increased even as far as Isodor. Ah, Legolas! Come and join our counsel!" Legolas stepped in line with them as they walked. Legolas was glad for the distraction of conversation, and he walked with them as they made their way across the square.
"It is strange," Kerrinais said at last, "At Tuluth and Irwindal his brazen assault completely took the cities by surprise. There was nothing left, not even prisoners or slaves were taken. Rakal MUST know that the elves will be better prepared in defense of Isodor and Imladris. Take Rivendell, and then even Mirkwood might be controlled. If Rakal can accomplish that immeasurable goal, there will be no one left in the North to oppose him, and Rakal would surely sit better in the Dark Lord's favor. None but Rakal would attempt such a bold feat. But Rakal's evil purpose in coming to Isodor eludes me. There is nothing there worth such efforts. It is but a small place with hardly any elves." Legolas nodded as he walked.
"Yes," agreed Legolas, "Vicious for glory as Rakal is, it is not like him to stumble from one onslaught to another. Rakal enjoys the total ruin of his conquests, and preserves his renown with his malice. He lingered and entrenched himself in the strongholds of Irwindal, and took his time in burning the forests and everything within it. He merely laid waste to Euphratas and left it. His coming here so quickly makes little sense to me, and there is no prize for his taking in Isodor, unless he intends to use it as a base to overthrow Rivendell itself." Gandalf stopped short and stood motionless, as though a sudden realization came upon him. Legolas and Kerrinais halted and looked at him.
"Perhaps he does not yet know where the prize is kept!" he exclaimed and began to walk quickly in the opposite direction, "I will speak to you in but awhile! There is something I must attend to at once!" The two friends watched Gandalf bustle away. Kerrinais turned at length to Legolas, and said,
"I am off to see to the armory. There is only a little time to complete preparations before the march tomorrow, will you come with me?"
"If we are not prepared enough now, then I don't believe the short hours until daybreak will make the difference. No. I must see to Neonean before the morning comes."
"Be weary of yourself," Kerrinais blurted out suddenly, "The effects of the Carner Blue are still upon your brow. A cloud of gloom prevails around you. I can sense it. Perhaps you should remain to secure the defense of Imladris, if it should come to that." Legolas smiled.
"Be at ease friend. I am myself. Rakal will not find in me as easy a target as his other victims. As for the Carner Blue, I cannot foresee my destiny, yet I am inclined to believe it a foretelling of good fortune and victory, rather than disaster. Peace be with you, Kerrinais." With that, Legolas left, and Kerrinais turned in the direction of the armory.
Legolas walked through the square, towards the great and ancient stone archway that heralded the entrance to Rivendell. Beyond it was the small dirt road, leading down the mountain, past the many rocky ravines and forests. The rush of the many waterfalls around Rivendell filled his ears in a symphony of water crushing against rock, mingled with the bustle of preparations for the next day's march. All about him on the road, riders rode to Rivendell from the forest encampments and back, messages being relayed for every detail and consideration of the awaiting army. Legolas barely noticed the bent, gray figure of Gandalf, galloping away from him. He considered his stature, his gray hair flying in the wind behind him. Almost as quickly as he had seen him, Gandalf disappeared, and Legolas thought no more about it. A little further down the lane, Legolas broke from the path, and began to make his way into the forest, away from the din and excitement, towards a small meadow. Neonean, it seemed, had been most content to remain there, grazing on the lush grasses and flowers, and Legolas did not insist to keep her corralled with the other horses. Neonean knew her master, and would come to his call at his need. The moon was almost at its zenith, almost completely full. The light threw eerie shadows upon the rocks and fallen tree trunks and the noise and bustle of the night faded as he made his way deeper and deeper into the woods. There was now only the rushing water, the chirping of crickets, and the wind playing with the leaves in the trees above his head.
Then a new sound broke through to the elf warrior's ears, almost as he came to the meadow. He stopped and listened. Almost a whisper, it was. So inaudibly low and soft that at first he thought to be imagining it. He took one step further. The wind suddenly changed direction, coming from the south now, and it seemed to carry the better measure of the sound over the air to him. It was clearer now. Soft and melodious, and the notes struck Legolas to his heart's very depth. He now thought he recognized the selfsame voice from the Neolowyn maiden he had seen earlier. He hastened to a clump of bushes and parted the branches, peering through the thicket. In the meadow, stood a longhaired maiden with Neonean. Her back was to him, and he could not make out her face, but the dulcet tones of her voice were unmistakable. She sang softly, whispering to the mare, stroking its muzzle with her fingertips.
Oh light of Varda, oh ancient elven wise,
Oh softness of the forest mosses, in thy elven eyes,
Thy golden hair as soft and light as morning breeze,
Thy touch I keep forever, my heart to keep for thee,
Oh warrior of Northern wood,
Of noble birth of kindred good,
To thy footsteps the lands all yearn for thus,
To bitter cry thy parting, for the fair Legolas,
He stood in awe, listening, not certain that he should interrupt the maid's reverent songs. At last he could bear no more and stepped forth through the bushes, walking steadily towards her, although she did not seem to be aware of him. Legolas was almost upon her, when the maid turned her head and realized that he was there. She jumped back, startled, and quickly began walking away. Legolas quickened his pace and called out to her,
"Hold! Be still!" The maid stopped short, and in a moment Legolas was beside her. Lisaine closed her eyes tightly, visibly shaken as she awaited the inevitable retribution of her daring, but it never came. After a few seconds, Lisaine garnered her bravery, and opened her eyes to him. The tall, handsome elf stood before her, turning his head this way and that, as if contemplating some odd dilemma, but he was smiling. Neonean had now ambled up between Lisaine and Legolas, pushing her nose at Lisaine's waist satchel. Legolas gently pushed the horse's nose to one side and stepped closer.
"I had not hoped to see you again this night, Neolowyn," he said gently. Lisaine did not know how to answer him at first. Finally, she replied weakly,
"You are mistaken, my lord. I am not a Neolowyn. Naught but the elf maidens may partake in that sacred ceremony. And as you see, I am not an elf." Legolas drew a hand through her long, sensuous hair, and his gaze rested on the two braids behind her ear. Lisaine shivered and lowered her eyes, ashamed to look at him. In the confusion of the night, Lisaine had entirely forgotten to take out the Mirkwood braids from her hair.
"Hmmmm. Indeed," he replied, still amused, "Tell me Neolowyn, neither are you Sindarin, yet you wear your hair in that manner. Is that not also forbidden?" Lisaine trembled at his touch, and she could not find the strength to move. She breathed in deeply as he patiently waited for a reply.
"You are right, Legolas. I only wear these braids to honor the noble elves of the Northern wood. But I would not offend you for any cause of my own. I shall remove them at once." Lisaine moved to pull apart the braids, but Legolas pulled her hands to her sides, and shook his head.
"Leave them, they become you," he said, "Tell me now, how came it that you are here in this meadow tonight? Why are you not in Rivendell?"
"I have come to say goodbye to thy noble steed, Legolas, who has become my friend in these last few lonely days." The great horse had now come forward again and was sniffing at Lisaine's waist satchel. Without diverting her eyes, she desperately tried to push Neonean from her. Legolas was visibly amused now, and focused his attention to the bag at her waist. Picking it up, he looked again at Lisaine.
"And I suppose you have brought her something to eat? She'll not be content with the same morsels you carry for your woodland rabbits this night. My steed would dine only on the greenest grasses and golden grains before a battle, but she seems to desire what you mean to give her. If I look to your purse, what would I find?"
"I have only a humble offering," Lisaiane replied, looking to her waist. She unconsciously opened the satchel and pulled from it one of the quarters of the prepared apple, "Not worthy of so great and beautiful a horse, but it is all I have, and the only thing that I might call my own. Only a bit of apple from an ancient tree here in the wood."
"An apple," Legolas said matter-of-factly. Lisaine fed the morsel to the great mare. Almost at once, Lisaine realized her blunder, but there was no recanting it.
"You would give my horse the selfsame offering as I? Do not deny to me who you are. I thought I knew you when I heard the first notes of your voice here in the glade, but now I am doubly sure. Brave you are to attempt such feats as you have these last few days. You have taken great risk to be at my side, maiden. Now that I stand before you once more, do not abandon the truth to me, face to face, for that indeed would be disloyal to me." Lisaine could not speak. There seemed no denying to him that it was she who came before him at both of the elven ceremonies, and now there was nothing for her but his rebuke and the inevitable consequences of her actions. Tears welled in Lisaine's eyes as she suddenly lifted her head high and confronted him.
"I only seek to honor that which I hold high above all else! Be not harsh with Alnein or myself, my lord! I begged her to allow me the honor of going in her stead at the Nissalos. And then Alnein was commanded to attend to you this night, but she knew that we would be discovered. I dared to incur thy wrath once more so that you would know the same maiden attended you. I only thought to look upon you one last time ere you went away, because I have loved none but you since the day we first met. If my broken heart at your parting tomorrow is any recompense to you, I will suffer enough! I beseech thee, do not have us exiled from Rivendell!"
"Be not afraid," he said with a softened voice, wiping her tears with his fingers, "Your secret is kept safe. Here, do not cry. A king does not suffer to punish those that risk their lives in his favor, and I would not keep thy company long away from me for any reason. How can you believe I would be the instrument of your death when you have become the instrument of my life?"
"Then...you are not angry?" said Lisaine wiping her eyes. Legolas gently smiled at her.
"Do you not think that a warrior cannot be moved to reverence? The eldar are perhaps more cautious where our hearts are placed. Perhaps we are less inclined to lose ourselves to passion than mortal kind. But it does not mean we are incapable of feelings. You have felt the connection between us, I am sure of it. Your risking every conceivable loss proves it. Destiny has foretold it. For all circumstances have worked hard to bring us to one another Nevariel, and neither of us can deny that."
Lisaine looked up at him, trying to fully comprehend the meaning of his words. She stood there, watching him, his bright, gleaming eyes, his alabaster skin, the perfect contours of his sculpted cheekbones and jaw line. He was indeed more beautiful than anyone she had ever seen. She realized, almost imperceptibly, that his face was moving closer and closer. Legolas cupped his slender hands around her face, stepped in, and pressed his lips to hers, tenderly kissing her. At length, he pulled away and whispered to her,
"I have but a few hours till the dawn, Nevariel. Sooth my heart and spend that little time with me. Walk with me in the forest and do not run again from me. For tomorrow will I be loathed to leave thy company." Lisaine put her hand to his lips.
"Speak not of Isodor, Legolas," and an expression of pain seemed to come to her face in the moonlight, "But if you will, let us walk awhile under the night sky. Lead me where you may, and I will follow you unto the very ends of the world."
And so, hand in hand, Legolas and Lisaine walked through the woods, as Neonean followed behind, munching on soft-dewed grasses and flowers. Lisaine sang softly to Legolas, elven songs of old, and he relished in the sweet, perfect tones of her voice, like a parched deer quenching its thirst at a mountain stream. They would stop walking and gaze up at the stars and the brightly lit moon at its zenith, and Legolas spoke to Lisaine the lore of the elves while Lisaine listened. At last they came to Lisaine's apple tree and sat beneath it, and Legolas pulled her close to him, to keep her warm from the chilly night breezes, and he kissed her once more. Here under the sweet perfume of ripened apples, and the soft sounds of rushing water did they speak tender words to one another, and neither gave thought to the coming day or the sadness of their parting being at hand. For the night was waning fast, and even as they arrived, the first pale stretches of pink and gray began to cover the horizon. Legolas at last looked up at the sky, attentive to the hushed breeze. Lisaine could only hear the rush of the nearby waterfalls, but she knew that he was listening to the elf army, mustering for the journey to Isodor. Legolas stared back at her with pained eyes, but Lisaine put her fingers to his lips once more, and bade him not to speak.
"I know that our time is short," she whispered, "But I beg you to take this token of my love with you and keep it to you, and know that unto you I am ever devoted."
Then without further words, Lisaine pulled her small, silver dagger from her belt, and cut two of the four Sindarin braids from her hair, one from each side of her head. She tied them together and placed the braid in his hand, and closed it around the strand. He smiled, and kissed her forehead, and standing, carefully tied the long braid of Lisaine's hair around his belt. He held his hand out to Lisaine, and she stood with him as he called to Neonean. He searched for the words that would make their parting less painful, but he had none. Neonean came trotting out from the darkness of the woods, still untouched by the first rays of morning sunlight. At last, Legolas said,
"I will return to you as soon as I may, but if our defense should fail..." tears welled in Lisaine's eyes, and she shook her head as if bidding him not to speak his thoughts. He lifted his hand and ran his fingers through Lisaine's hair once more to calm her.
"If the defense of Isodor should fail, Nevariel," Legolas continued gravely, "You must leave here, for it will not be safe. There will not be enough elves left to defend Rivendell. Take whom you may, then go to Mirkwood. Seek out my father, and tell him I have sent you and he will protect you until I return." Slowly she nodded as she watched him lightly jump on the back of Neonean. Legolas bowed and touched his hand to his chest and then opened it towards Lisaine in a parting gesture. Then, Legolas and Neonean galloped away, leaving Lisaine standing alone underneath the apple tree.