"Overcoming Boundaries" by Monica da magickal elf©
Chapter 2! This is sort of like the basis of all that is going to happen in the rest of the story, so see if you can find out some clues. Anyway, in this chapter, Ireth gets hit, introducing Teyêkna and Legolas comes up with a brilliant idea! Please enjoy!
Lord of the Rings and related characters and words are property of J.R.R. Tolkien. The Lómë people belong to me, as does the language, which was created by me! If you want to use the Lómë language or the people please e- mail me first. Thanks!
Chapter 2- Teyêkna, Punishment and Ideas
Ireth walked into the Great Hall nervously. It was already 6:30 and Legolas was not yet presentable for his Father or the court. Not to mention that if he did not come, it would be considered Ireth's own personal fault. Other handmaidens bustled past Ireth as bit her bottom lip, staring ahead. At the main table in the front sat the King in all his glory, other important Elves conversing with him quietly. Their voices rang out through the big hall, the earth and plant covered walls trembling slightly. There were candles shining brightly from the chandeliers, giving the room a dark and mystical aura. It would've been a great sight to see, but at that moment then, Ireth was horrified.
"A boina Dânya." muttered Ireth, twisting her hands together. Looking nervously at the grand clock on the wall, Ireth suddenly heard a frantic whisper in Lómë
"Ireth! Jágo san! (Over here!)" Ireth turned to her right, catching sight of her younger brother hiding behind a large curtain in front of the bay windows, of which lead to a giant porch area. What was he doing here, thought Ireth angrily. Teyêkna was only 300 years old (12 in human years) and a pure pain. He was always getting into trouble, and the blame usually went on Ireth. Argh! He wasn't supposed to be there! Casually glancing over to the King, the she-Elf trotted over to the curtains, readying her hands to wrap around the brat's throat.
"What are you doing here?" she commanded in their own tongue. The defiant young Elf shrugged and smirked, his curly black hair going every which way.
"I got bored and plus Mama is busy in the kitchens, so she had gotten frustrated with me so she told me to go jump in a creek but," he trailed off and nodded towards the King and his company. "I decided to come here and watch."
"They are not a kind of animal to be oogled at Teyêkie," replied Ireth, looking about. Did she seem obvious?
"How many times have I told you not to call me that!" exclaimed Teyêkna, his greenish-brown eyes flashing angrily.
"Shh!" Ireth shushed hastily, slapping her hand against his mouth and looking around frantically. And only to her horror, she noticed that a few Light Elves had looked over to her and were throwing dirty looks. She had to reassure them that she was just looking out the window, so she nodded and turned back her brother.
"If I get into trouble Teyêkie," she muttered at the corners of her mouth. "I will make it my personal duty to make your life a living Shadow, now leave!" With that she pushed the boy out onto the porch and closed the doors. She was sure that he had climbed up the vines to get in there in the first place, so he would just have to climb down again. After locking the doors Ireth began to walk over towards the Great Hall entrance, where she was to stand until Legolas arrived. But before she could settle against the wall and utter a small prayer to the Goddess, Thranduil had called out to her.
"Ireth, please come here," he said slowly, his regal voice ringing out through the hall. Her heart stopped. Did he see her brother? Oh how she did not want to move, her body's reluctance sending her nerves into shock. But she had to move and she did, finally walking slowly towards the table. She lowered her head while passing the important counselors and chancellors of Mirkwood. Ireth could feel their pale and icy eyes sting her flesh, but dared not to question them. Having reached her destination, Ireth got down on her knees and kissed the royal hand of the King, lowering her head and waiting for him to speak.
"See how well behaved my dark Elves are?" boomed Thranduil proudly. Although the young she-Elf could not see, she felt the Light Elves nod in agreement, their cobalt and silver eyes boring into her.
"So my dear Ireth," continued Thranduil. "Have you seen to my son? Is he to join us?" The Light elves quieted and gave their full undivided attention to her. Ireth slowly raised her head, her hazel eyes glancing straight into Thranduils.
"He is to come down in some time your Lordship. I had drawn a bath for him quite some time ago and," she paused and glanced over to the clock. "So do not toil my lord, he has promised." She then lowered her head again and stood up, brushing off her dress, thinking she could leave without another word. But Thranduil looked at her, a snarl forming on his face.
"I did not clarify if you could leave Ireth," said the King with a deadly calm tone of voice. At those words, Ireth's face slowly turned red with embarrassment. She knelt down quickly while hearing soft cynical laughter ring out. Damn Light Elves thought Ireth. She hated being laughed at, especially by nobles.
"I do not know the reasons why you toil with these Lómë your highness," remarked Silinde, an Elf and friend to the house of Thranduil. To that sentence, Ireth raised her head and shot the Elf a poisonous glare. For a second there Ireth's tongue had been ready to reply to his snide remark but she knew better. But she did notice then that Silinde's eyes were glaring at her at the corners. She quickly bowed her head again.
"Dear Silinde son of Silindriel, if it were not for the Lómë who had discovered this land we would not be here having this joyous feast," replied Thranduil. The other light elves laughed heartily and some even raised their crystal goblets.
"Yes," said a low and angry filled voice. "And if it weren't for you my people would have flourished and have their freedom!" A knife could have cut the tension that filled the Hall after that sentence was spoken. The laughter had quickly died and the goblets found themselves placed on the table. Trembling with fury and horror, Ireth looked around at them all. Had she just said those words? Out loud? She was still on her knees and seemed timid, yet her hazel eyes held a rage that could rival Thranduil's when he was angry. Thranduil. Ireth gulped, looking up into his eyes. But she found no comfort. Only a King with a glare that could melt ice. Her body shivering, her palms sweaty. What would he do?
"Ireth," said the King slowly, looking down on her. "Come to my apartments after dinner. It seems that I must re-teach you how it is not allowed that a wench like yourself does not speak when she is not spoken to!" Smack! Ireth fell back, a red hand forming on the side of her face. Slowly, she felt tears stinging to be released from their ducts, but she dared not allow one to fall. She would not give the cursed Elves the pleasure of seeing her sob.
"Get out of my sight Ireth," huffed Thranduil. He need not have told her twice. Ireth got up and ran out of the Hall into the main corridor. She didn't know where she going, nor where she was running for it was dark in the halls, no candles present. But she was soon stopped as she bumped harshly into someone. And to the head on collision, Ireth found herself back on the ground, her head hitting the ground slightly. Oh no, thought the she-Elf. She braced herself for a scolding of some sort, especially if it were a noble late for the feast. But instead, a familiar voice rang out of the darkness.
"Two occasions has it been that you have injured me this night Ireth." Ireth glanced up only to be greeted with the sight of Legolas. He was dressed nicely in a yellow tunic, leaf green breeches and his soft leather boots.
"'Tis about time you've arrived!" exclaimed Ireth sorrowfully. Legolas extended a hand, helping her off the floor. Ireth accepted his hand graciously, dusting off her white dress.
"I am sorry, but I did want to enjoy my bath for a while," he explained, walking around her as if studying her. The windows across from them allowed soft moon beams to come in, some of the light revealing Ireth to him. And as he observed her, he noticed the red hand mark on for face. He touched it lightly, Ireth snatching her face away from him.
"It is nothing," she said, moving out of the light. But Legolas was not to give up so easily.
"He hit you didn't he?" he asked. Silence came from Ireth, which answered his question for him. Why did his Father always resort to violence? But Legolas could not blame his Father entirely. He was late and that was probably the cause of Ireth's punishment.
"I will explain to my Father the reason why I am late," said Legolas. "So then that way he can apologize." To that Ireth snorted. Was Legolas joking?
"Your sunã* of a Father apologize?" she smirked bitterly. "That will be the day when no evil exists in the world." Legolas flinched slightly at the way Ireth had insulted his Father. No less than Ireth had Legolas held respect for his Father, but it was his Father after all. And he soon realized that Ireth had regretted her choice of vocabulary also.
"I am sorry Legolas," she apologized. She raised a hand to her forehead and heaved a heavy sigh. "Go on to the Hall, you are beyond late." She then began to walk away, melting into the darkness. Legolas shouted out to her.
"We will discuss further matters later on yes?" he questioned. There was a pause after his sentence, but she finally answered from far off.
"Aye Belin ni Legolas, but it will be late."
"I shall wait," he replied. And after that, there was silence.
*
Ebremniel Ar-feiniel could not believe it. The night had been a complete and royal mess! The main course of the meal was not quite finished, the young she-Elves had a very bad attitude and Teyêkna was 2 minutes short from having a slipper thrown at his head.
"Dânya bágë moin!" exclaimed the elder she-Elf. She prayed the Goddess Dânya helped her through this night, for she could not bear another scolding from the King himself. Sighing, Ebremniel crossed over to her shrine, located next to the pantry whereas flour and sugar sat in wooden barrels. Upon the altar lay fruit, incense and a portrait of Dânya, the Goddess of the Dark Children. Her dress was long and black, shimmering from the illuminated moon behind her. Her arms were spread and welcoming, as if telling her children to turn to her for comfort and help. The signature of fertility, her long braids, spilled over her bust, the Goddess's eyes alive and dark. Oh yes, the eyes were the main purpose of the sacrilege. Though to the untrained eye, the picture seemed peaceful and serene, yet the eyes of the Goddess held anger.
Many of her children had avoided her, and had turned to the Gods of other. But not Ebremniel! She had raised her children as if they were in the great city of Lómë Reana itself. She had taught them the teachings of the Goddess and the ways of their people. Oh how Ebremniel wished to see Lómë Reana again. She had once owned a great house in the heart of the city, and she had once had a lover who promised to never leave her. That was a lie. And also a deep passion of desire ran in Ebremniel to allow her children to see their Mother country. Sure, Ireth and her brother knew all of the parts and stories and legends of Mirkwood, but had never experienced the beauty and lore of their true city. And finally, Ebremniel wished to see her daughter married off, so she could one day shorn off her braids and bear beautiful children.
"Bof!" exclaimed Ebremniel angrily, bowing to the altar and trotting away over to the cauldron. It was impossible to marry Ireth off, many reasons due to the she-Elf's attitude! She ran off at the mouth too much, and the good mark of a bride in Lómë was the ability to keep her mouth shut and to speak only when spoken to. But not Ireth! Thought Ebremniel angrily. She had been around the Light Elves too long, they had plagued her good home training. Ebremniel plunged her huge wooden spoon into a thick stew simmering nicely in the huge cauldron. Suddenly then, the she-Elf almost jumped out of her slippers from a high pitched scream. Dropping the spoon and running into the other side of the kitchens, Ebremniel held up a broom, waiting to hit a thief or beggar that came from the man village none too far off. But she only found Niysa, a chamber maiden standing on a chair screaming her head off. And below her was none other than Ebremniel's son holding a snake, thrashing it about like a plaything. Teyêkna shrugged and smiled.
"What did I do?" he asked innocently, grinning up to the girl. "It's only a snake after all!"
*
Ireth sat on the porch of Legolas' bedroom quietly. What was her problem? She had been running off at the mouth for weeks now and it had cost her nothing but pain. And what of the evening she had to spend with the King? Oh how she wished that dinner would last a very long time. The she-Elf placed her chin upon her knee, drawing her body up to a ball. She then admired the sky and the canopy of the forest, the darkness and quietness rushing over her. From a distance also, she could spot the gleaming tower of the great castle of Lómë Reana. She wondered if the people were still out wondering about, talking and chatting in rapid Lómë speech, exchanging gifts and dancing and singing. Not being a slave to Elves that did not appreciate you. Light Elves who were seen as beautiful and caring beings, but truly prejudice and biased as any other race. But not all Light Elves were terrible thought Ireth half-heartily. Legolas was nice and had never caused her any harm. But if she were not careful, she could soon lose his favor.
Long had it been since they had any time to talk of anything but his Father. And it was usually then when Ireth would insult the King or curse the whole race of Light Elves, thinking nothing of it naturally. Ireth bit her tongue subconsciously, a wave a humiliation spreading through her chest. Ireth could not blame Legolas for the way his Father behaved. Nor could she blame him for the behavior of his friends and other kin. But that Silinde! He had caused her blood to boil with the comment that he had spoken! He was always the one to comment on the ways of her people or constantly insult Ireth to her face. You would think that he held something personal against her, but Ireth had done him no harm.
Sighing heavily then, Ireth got up to her feet wondering how much time had passed. She had gone to Legolas' room right after she had bumped into him. And dinner usually did not last too long. Glancing longingly at the moon once more and feeling calm, Ireth stepped back in Legolas' room, leaving the doors ajar and allowing the cool night breeze to blow gently into the lavish lounge. But as she walked back into the room, her calmness suddenly erupted violently throughout her body, frustration breaking free from its restraints. Ireth threw a vase across the room, it slamming against the wall and shattering into tiny pieces.
"Jen ni danarä zyán du!*" the she-Elf screamed tearfully, falling to the ground. She felt hopeless, knowing that she would be punished greatly that night. The hate and fear she felt at that moment was terribly abysmal, and she knew it was her own self that had brought upon her unfortunate future. Get up, screamed her conscience angrily. You are behaving like an Elfling would; you should be well ashamed! But she could not. All of the pent up frustration she had felt ages ago had seemed to burst free from her soul and she gladly allowed it. The sounds of her soft sobbing echoed throughout the quiet room until suddenly, Ireth heard the bedroom door open.
"Ireth?" Legolas walked into his bedroom, concern clearly present on his handsome face. Sniffling and jumping up quite quickly, Ireth took the back of her hand and dried away her tears. An awkward silence then filled the room, the two of them just looking at each other. Legolas spoke first.
"Are you going to be all right?"
"Aye." Ireth looked down to the ground, not daring to look into his eyes. Silence.
*
Ireth took a deep breath, leaning against the wall outside of Thranduil's quarters. She had literally run from Legolas' room, completely mortified of the fact that Legolas had witnessed her sobbing. Slapping a hand against her forehead harshly, the she-elf groaned causing her throat to throb. She was such an elfling at times she thought bitterly.
"Cannot dwell on the incident too long," she whispered quietly. She had to go into the King's room, no matter how reluctant she felt. And so, slowly she reached her hand over to the golden knob, twisting it and pushing against the wooden doors. Inside it was dark and cold, much like the Elf that resided there. Ireth closed the door, sending a soft echo throughout the room. She then heard his voice ring out.
"Is that you Ireth?" he questioned. His voice sent a shiver down her spine.
"Aye, tis M'lord," she replied, her voice quivering slightly.
"Good, good," he said, coming out of his wardrobe. Although Ireth could not see too clearly, she saw that he wore a green dressing robe with his golden hair hanging loosely. Dear Dânya, thought Ireth. How great the resemblance was between Legolas and the King. But no, this Elf was not Legolas. Legolas would never hit her nor.do anything else to her. Suprisingly then, Thranduil trotted over to Ireth placing his large white hand on her neck softly.
"My precious Ireth," he started. "You have become quite the little troublemaker as of late. And to be frank, I am growing tired of this." He then took her hand, dragging her over to his large bed that was draped with many silk sheets. He placed her down gently, towering over her. Ireth suddenly then felt her insides turn to liquid. The King was beautiful, yet terrible and powerful. And she could scream and scream for help, but no one would come. So she would have to endure his kisses and touching for the fortnight, no matter how much she wished it to not happen. Ireth shut her eyes, trapping the tears that were ready to escape. Thranduil kissed her cheek softly, rubbing his hands all over her body.
"You possess an exotic beauty you know," he whispered into her ear. "You would almost be suitable for a wife, with the blood you carry and all." What did he mean by that? Ireth squirmed a little, shifting under his weight. The blood she carried? She carried the blood of just another Dark Elf did she not? But before she could even ask her questions, the King had already pressed his lips against hers roughly, the she-elf closing her eyes, beginning to block out reality.
*
As the hour grew late, and the castle became to ease, Ebremniel rubbed her hands together nervously. Where was Ireth? It was already half past 9 o clock, and her daughter had not yet returned to the servant quarters. The living facilities of the servants and workers were on the western wing of the castle. It was large and dark yet cozy area, where several little rooms were built into. But the outer parts of it, where the Lómë cooked, ate and danced to music and prayed was reminiscent to the household of a large Lómë family. Drums that were used and beaten sat against the stone walls, portraits of the Goddess sat perched against a shrine. Also Lómë rugs and cooking ware was spread across the cooking and resting rooms. All of the different families lived in this large room, and it was like a huge family. And yet, while all of the other dark Elves rested easily, Ebremniel's mind was alit with questions. Was she with the Prince? It was normal for Ireth to spend the whole night conversing with Legolas. Yet, at times Ebremniel wondered if there was more than conversation going on between the two.
Ireth and Legolas were unbearably close and many Lómë could tell. Most of the Lómë Elders disapproved of it, thinking that it was not right for Ireth to befriend her own enslaver. But not even the sharp tongues and wicked advice had changed Ireth's attitude towards her friend. Yet Ebremniel knew that if Ireth and Legolas did get involved with each other, it would only be Ireth who would receive the punishment. Punishment from both the Light and Dark elves. The Light elves would put her into exile probably, and the Lómë would see her as a whore or a very confused dark Elf who needed to be put into her place. Ebremniel knew that her heart could not take that pressure, and every night before she lay to rest, she prayed to the Goddess to grant her daughter leadership and good choices. And so far, she hoped her praying has been helping. Just then, Ebremniel sat on an old Lómë rug, crossing her elegant legs and staring straightforward into the mirror across from her. The mirror (though it was cracked) showed the reflection of an older She-elf, a sheer morsel of proof of where Ireth had inherited her looks. Although an older She-elf, Ebremniel still held her shapely body and strong posture. The only difference that could be told was her hair. It was short and brown, numerous beads and braids strewn about. Ebremniel looked away. Where was Ireth? Suddenly then, Teyêkna ran past, a long branch trailing behind him. He stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed his Mother sitting on the rug. She wore a look of calmness yet worriness.
"Tiapä?" he muttered quietly. He walked over to her, sitting down. Ebremniel turned to face him, blinking.
"Have you seen your sister as of late?"
"Nay," replied the Elfling. "But I did catch ill word from one of the nobles that she had gotten into trouble once more. Her wicked tongue has spoken mild blasphemy I suppose."
Ebremniel held back a gasp, glancing down at her hands.
"Dânya bagé moin tinä*," muttered the She-Elf frantically. She was whispering a prayer. She knew where Ireth was.
*
"And so Ireth, you've never been to your city of birth?" asked Legolas quietly.
"Nay," replied Ireth, who sat across from him on the bed. She had gone straight to his room after the ordeal with his Father, yet she told him nothing of the treatment or physical interactions that had occurred. Never having the heart to tell Legolas burned Ireth. They were always the ones to tell each other's secrets to each other, and laugh about the silliness of them all. But no, she could not tell the stories of the horror his Father had brought to her dreams. And so she quickly blocked them out as quickly has they happened, and she appeared to Legolas happy and serene, as if nothing were the matter. And besides, she was glad to see him in a better mood than he had been in the past couple of weeks.
Legolas however still pondered at Ireth's secret suffering. He knew deep in his heart that she was struggling with her own sadness, but yet she would never open up to him. The young Prince crossed his legs and began to trace a stitch along his bed spread. He smiled.
"Do you remember when your Mother made me this quilt?" he asked. Ireth smiled also and ran a hand over it, nodding.
"It did not take her long," she replied. "She rather enjoyed making it. She said that it reminded her of the days when she was back in the native land." Always did her mother speak of the great land. Ireth alone had never seen it yet she wished with all of her heart to become free, and set foot there.
"You know," began Ireth slowly. "I do plan to escape from this place and go to Lómë Reana, one day at least." To this, Legolas glanced at her, his blues eyes searching her face. Surely she was not serious? The cost for a slave to run away from this place was sudden death. But then again, Legolas could understand her need to see her native country. She was born in Mirkwood, yet she was still an Elf to the Lómë and would not be complete until she witnessed the great city. This thought made Legolas think. Would it be possible if? Well yes perhaps it could happen!
"Ireth!" he exclaimed. Ireth's glanced at him, tearing her eyes away from the beautiful dark quilt.
"What?" she asked. She saw Legolas' excited face.
"Wouldn't it be interesting if I could talk my Father into allowing me and you, and of course others to visit the great city of Lómë Reana?" He said all of this very fast.
"Uh, what?" stuttered Ireth. She did wish that Legolas would stop raising her hopes up. "Your Father would never stand for it you know."
"Yes he would!" retorted Legolas. "He has always said that he thought that I should venture about the lands and collect memories. Ireth this is the perfect idea!" Legolas' smiling was contagious and soon Ireth couldn't stop smiling to herself. And even though the King would probably turn down the idea, she couldn't help but feel excited. She jumped to her feet and twirled around, grinning.
"Legolas," she said, collapsing back onto the bed. "If this is to happen, I should very well die happy."
To be continued..
NOTES:
Sunã - The English equivalent of this would be "Bastard". Dânya bágë moin - Translation to this is "Danya help me!" Jen ni danarä zyán du - I don't know what to do! Dânya bagé moin tinä - Danya help my daughter.
I do believe that is all. I know this chapter was kind of rusty but I had caught a mild dose of writer's block but I really wanted to add a new chapter. So please review!
Chapter 2! This is sort of like the basis of all that is going to happen in the rest of the story, so see if you can find out some clues. Anyway, in this chapter, Ireth gets hit, introducing Teyêkna and Legolas comes up with a brilliant idea! Please enjoy!
Lord of the Rings and related characters and words are property of J.R.R. Tolkien. The Lómë people belong to me, as does the language, which was created by me! If you want to use the Lómë language or the people please e- mail me first. Thanks!
Chapter 2- Teyêkna, Punishment and Ideas
Ireth walked into the Great Hall nervously. It was already 6:30 and Legolas was not yet presentable for his Father or the court. Not to mention that if he did not come, it would be considered Ireth's own personal fault. Other handmaidens bustled past Ireth as bit her bottom lip, staring ahead. At the main table in the front sat the King in all his glory, other important Elves conversing with him quietly. Their voices rang out through the big hall, the earth and plant covered walls trembling slightly. There were candles shining brightly from the chandeliers, giving the room a dark and mystical aura. It would've been a great sight to see, but at that moment then, Ireth was horrified.
"A boina Dânya." muttered Ireth, twisting her hands together. Looking nervously at the grand clock on the wall, Ireth suddenly heard a frantic whisper in Lómë
"Ireth! Jágo san! (Over here!)" Ireth turned to her right, catching sight of her younger brother hiding behind a large curtain in front of the bay windows, of which lead to a giant porch area. What was he doing here, thought Ireth angrily. Teyêkna was only 300 years old (12 in human years) and a pure pain. He was always getting into trouble, and the blame usually went on Ireth. Argh! He wasn't supposed to be there! Casually glancing over to the King, the she-Elf trotted over to the curtains, readying her hands to wrap around the brat's throat.
"What are you doing here?" she commanded in their own tongue. The defiant young Elf shrugged and smirked, his curly black hair going every which way.
"I got bored and plus Mama is busy in the kitchens, so she had gotten frustrated with me so she told me to go jump in a creek but," he trailed off and nodded towards the King and his company. "I decided to come here and watch."
"They are not a kind of animal to be oogled at Teyêkie," replied Ireth, looking about. Did she seem obvious?
"How many times have I told you not to call me that!" exclaimed Teyêkna, his greenish-brown eyes flashing angrily.
"Shh!" Ireth shushed hastily, slapping her hand against his mouth and looking around frantically. And only to her horror, she noticed that a few Light Elves had looked over to her and were throwing dirty looks. She had to reassure them that she was just looking out the window, so she nodded and turned back her brother.
"If I get into trouble Teyêkie," she muttered at the corners of her mouth. "I will make it my personal duty to make your life a living Shadow, now leave!" With that she pushed the boy out onto the porch and closed the doors. She was sure that he had climbed up the vines to get in there in the first place, so he would just have to climb down again. After locking the doors Ireth began to walk over towards the Great Hall entrance, where she was to stand until Legolas arrived. But before she could settle against the wall and utter a small prayer to the Goddess, Thranduil had called out to her.
"Ireth, please come here," he said slowly, his regal voice ringing out through the hall. Her heart stopped. Did he see her brother? Oh how she did not want to move, her body's reluctance sending her nerves into shock. But she had to move and she did, finally walking slowly towards the table. She lowered her head while passing the important counselors and chancellors of Mirkwood. Ireth could feel their pale and icy eyes sting her flesh, but dared not to question them. Having reached her destination, Ireth got down on her knees and kissed the royal hand of the King, lowering her head and waiting for him to speak.
"See how well behaved my dark Elves are?" boomed Thranduil proudly. Although the young she-Elf could not see, she felt the Light Elves nod in agreement, their cobalt and silver eyes boring into her.
"So my dear Ireth," continued Thranduil. "Have you seen to my son? Is he to join us?" The Light elves quieted and gave their full undivided attention to her. Ireth slowly raised her head, her hazel eyes glancing straight into Thranduils.
"He is to come down in some time your Lordship. I had drawn a bath for him quite some time ago and," she paused and glanced over to the clock. "So do not toil my lord, he has promised." She then lowered her head again and stood up, brushing off her dress, thinking she could leave without another word. But Thranduil looked at her, a snarl forming on his face.
"I did not clarify if you could leave Ireth," said the King with a deadly calm tone of voice. At those words, Ireth's face slowly turned red with embarrassment. She knelt down quickly while hearing soft cynical laughter ring out. Damn Light Elves thought Ireth. She hated being laughed at, especially by nobles.
"I do not know the reasons why you toil with these Lómë your highness," remarked Silinde, an Elf and friend to the house of Thranduil. To that sentence, Ireth raised her head and shot the Elf a poisonous glare. For a second there Ireth's tongue had been ready to reply to his snide remark but she knew better. But she did notice then that Silinde's eyes were glaring at her at the corners. She quickly bowed her head again.
"Dear Silinde son of Silindriel, if it were not for the Lómë who had discovered this land we would not be here having this joyous feast," replied Thranduil. The other light elves laughed heartily and some even raised their crystal goblets.
"Yes," said a low and angry filled voice. "And if it weren't for you my people would have flourished and have their freedom!" A knife could have cut the tension that filled the Hall after that sentence was spoken. The laughter had quickly died and the goblets found themselves placed on the table. Trembling with fury and horror, Ireth looked around at them all. Had she just said those words? Out loud? She was still on her knees and seemed timid, yet her hazel eyes held a rage that could rival Thranduil's when he was angry. Thranduil. Ireth gulped, looking up into his eyes. But she found no comfort. Only a King with a glare that could melt ice. Her body shivering, her palms sweaty. What would he do?
"Ireth," said the King slowly, looking down on her. "Come to my apartments after dinner. It seems that I must re-teach you how it is not allowed that a wench like yourself does not speak when she is not spoken to!" Smack! Ireth fell back, a red hand forming on the side of her face. Slowly, she felt tears stinging to be released from their ducts, but she dared not allow one to fall. She would not give the cursed Elves the pleasure of seeing her sob.
"Get out of my sight Ireth," huffed Thranduil. He need not have told her twice. Ireth got up and ran out of the Hall into the main corridor. She didn't know where she going, nor where she was running for it was dark in the halls, no candles present. But she was soon stopped as she bumped harshly into someone. And to the head on collision, Ireth found herself back on the ground, her head hitting the ground slightly. Oh no, thought the she-Elf. She braced herself for a scolding of some sort, especially if it were a noble late for the feast. But instead, a familiar voice rang out of the darkness.
"Two occasions has it been that you have injured me this night Ireth." Ireth glanced up only to be greeted with the sight of Legolas. He was dressed nicely in a yellow tunic, leaf green breeches and his soft leather boots.
"'Tis about time you've arrived!" exclaimed Ireth sorrowfully. Legolas extended a hand, helping her off the floor. Ireth accepted his hand graciously, dusting off her white dress.
"I am sorry, but I did want to enjoy my bath for a while," he explained, walking around her as if studying her. The windows across from them allowed soft moon beams to come in, some of the light revealing Ireth to him. And as he observed her, he noticed the red hand mark on for face. He touched it lightly, Ireth snatching her face away from him.
"It is nothing," she said, moving out of the light. But Legolas was not to give up so easily.
"He hit you didn't he?" he asked. Silence came from Ireth, which answered his question for him. Why did his Father always resort to violence? But Legolas could not blame his Father entirely. He was late and that was probably the cause of Ireth's punishment.
"I will explain to my Father the reason why I am late," said Legolas. "So then that way he can apologize." To that Ireth snorted. Was Legolas joking?
"Your sunã* of a Father apologize?" she smirked bitterly. "That will be the day when no evil exists in the world." Legolas flinched slightly at the way Ireth had insulted his Father. No less than Ireth had Legolas held respect for his Father, but it was his Father after all. And he soon realized that Ireth had regretted her choice of vocabulary also.
"I am sorry Legolas," she apologized. She raised a hand to her forehead and heaved a heavy sigh. "Go on to the Hall, you are beyond late." She then began to walk away, melting into the darkness. Legolas shouted out to her.
"We will discuss further matters later on yes?" he questioned. There was a pause after his sentence, but she finally answered from far off.
"Aye Belin ni Legolas, but it will be late."
"I shall wait," he replied. And after that, there was silence.
*
Ebremniel Ar-feiniel could not believe it. The night had been a complete and royal mess! The main course of the meal was not quite finished, the young she-Elves had a very bad attitude and Teyêkna was 2 minutes short from having a slipper thrown at his head.
"Dânya bágë moin!" exclaimed the elder she-Elf. She prayed the Goddess Dânya helped her through this night, for she could not bear another scolding from the King himself. Sighing, Ebremniel crossed over to her shrine, located next to the pantry whereas flour and sugar sat in wooden barrels. Upon the altar lay fruit, incense and a portrait of Dânya, the Goddess of the Dark Children. Her dress was long and black, shimmering from the illuminated moon behind her. Her arms were spread and welcoming, as if telling her children to turn to her for comfort and help. The signature of fertility, her long braids, spilled over her bust, the Goddess's eyes alive and dark. Oh yes, the eyes were the main purpose of the sacrilege. Though to the untrained eye, the picture seemed peaceful and serene, yet the eyes of the Goddess held anger.
Many of her children had avoided her, and had turned to the Gods of other. But not Ebremniel! She had raised her children as if they were in the great city of Lómë Reana itself. She had taught them the teachings of the Goddess and the ways of their people. Oh how Ebremniel wished to see Lómë Reana again. She had once owned a great house in the heart of the city, and she had once had a lover who promised to never leave her. That was a lie. And also a deep passion of desire ran in Ebremniel to allow her children to see their Mother country. Sure, Ireth and her brother knew all of the parts and stories and legends of Mirkwood, but had never experienced the beauty and lore of their true city. And finally, Ebremniel wished to see her daughter married off, so she could one day shorn off her braids and bear beautiful children.
"Bof!" exclaimed Ebremniel angrily, bowing to the altar and trotting away over to the cauldron. It was impossible to marry Ireth off, many reasons due to the she-Elf's attitude! She ran off at the mouth too much, and the good mark of a bride in Lómë was the ability to keep her mouth shut and to speak only when spoken to. But not Ireth! Thought Ebremniel angrily. She had been around the Light Elves too long, they had plagued her good home training. Ebremniel plunged her huge wooden spoon into a thick stew simmering nicely in the huge cauldron. Suddenly then, the she-Elf almost jumped out of her slippers from a high pitched scream. Dropping the spoon and running into the other side of the kitchens, Ebremniel held up a broom, waiting to hit a thief or beggar that came from the man village none too far off. But she only found Niysa, a chamber maiden standing on a chair screaming her head off. And below her was none other than Ebremniel's son holding a snake, thrashing it about like a plaything. Teyêkna shrugged and smiled.
"What did I do?" he asked innocently, grinning up to the girl. "It's only a snake after all!"
*
Ireth sat on the porch of Legolas' bedroom quietly. What was her problem? She had been running off at the mouth for weeks now and it had cost her nothing but pain. And what of the evening she had to spend with the King? Oh how she wished that dinner would last a very long time. The she-Elf placed her chin upon her knee, drawing her body up to a ball. She then admired the sky and the canopy of the forest, the darkness and quietness rushing over her. From a distance also, she could spot the gleaming tower of the great castle of Lómë Reana. She wondered if the people were still out wondering about, talking and chatting in rapid Lómë speech, exchanging gifts and dancing and singing. Not being a slave to Elves that did not appreciate you. Light Elves who were seen as beautiful and caring beings, but truly prejudice and biased as any other race. But not all Light Elves were terrible thought Ireth half-heartily. Legolas was nice and had never caused her any harm. But if she were not careful, she could soon lose his favor.
Long had it been since they had any time to talk of anything but his Father. And it was usually then when Ireth would insult the King or curse the whole race of Light Elves, thinking nothing of it naturally. Ireth bit her tongue subconsciously, a wave a humiliation spreading through her chest. Ireth could not blame Legolas for the way his Father behaved. Nor could she blame him for the behavior of his friends and other kin. But that Silinde! He had caused her blood to boil with the comment that he had spoken! He was always the one to comment on the ways of her people or constantly insult Ireth to her face. You would think that he held something personal against her, but Ireth had done him no harm.
Sighing heavily then, Ireth got up to her feet wondering how much time had passed. She had gone to Legolas' room right after she had bumped into him. And dinner usually did not last too long. Glancing longingly at the moon once more and feeling calm, Ireth stepped back in Legolas' room, leaving the doors ajar and allowing the cool night breeze to blow gently into the lavish lounge. But as she walked back into the room, her calmness suddenly erupted violently throughout her body, frustration breaking free from its restraints. Ireth threw a vase across the room, it slamming against the wall and shattering into tiny pieces.
"Jen ni danarä zyán du!*" the she-Elf screamed tearfully, falling to the ground. She felt hopeless, knowing that she would be punished greatly that night. The hate and fear she felt at that moment was terribly abysmal, and she knew it was her own self that had brought upon her unfortunate future. Get up, screamed her conscience angrily. You are behaving like an Elfling would; you should be well ashamed! But she could not. All of the pent up frustration she had felt ages ago had seemed to burst free from her soul and she gladly allowed it. The sounds of her soft sobbing echoed throughout the quiet room until suddenly, Ireth heard the bedroom door open.
"Ireth?" Legolas walked into his bedroom, concern clearly present on his handsome face. Sniffling and jumping up quite quickly, Ireth took the back of her hand and dried away her tears. An awkward silence then filled the room, the two of them just looking at each other. Legolas spoke first.
"Are you going to be all right?"
"Aye." Ireth looked down to the ground, not daring to look into his eyes. Silence.
*
Ireth took a deep breath, leaning against the wall outside of Thranduil's quarters. She had literally run from Legolas' room, completely mortified of the fact that Legolas had witnessed her sobbing. Slapping a hand against her forehead harshly, the she-elf groaned causing her throat to throb. She was such an elfling at times she thought bitterly.
"Cannot dwell on the incident too long," she whispered quietly. She had to go into the King's room, no matter how reluctant she felt. And so, slowly she reached her hand over to the golden knob, twisting it and pushing against the wooden doors. Inside it was dark and cold, much like the Elf that resided there. Ireth closed the door, sending a soft echo throughout the room. She then heard his voice ring out.
"Is that you Ireth?" he questioned. His voice sent a shiver down her spine.
"Aye, tis M'lord," she replied, her voice quivering slightly.
"Good, good," he said, coming out of his wardrobe. Although Ireth could not see too clearly, she saw that he wore a green dressing robe with his golden hair hanging loosely. Dear Dânya, thought Ireth. How great the resemblance was between Legolas and the King. But no, this Elf was not Legolas. Legolas would never hit her nor.do anything else to her. Suprisingly then, Thranduil trotted over to Ireth placing his large white hand on her neck softly.
"My precious Ireth," he started. "You have become quite the little troublemaker as of late. And to be frank, I am growing tired of this." He then took her hand, dragging her over to his large bed that was draped with many silk sheets. He placed her down gently, towering over her. Ireth suddenly then felt her insides turn to liquid. The King was beautiful, yet terrible and powerful. And she could scream and scream for help, but no one would come. So she would have to endure his kisses and touching for the fortnight, no matter how much she wished it to not happen. Ireth shut her eyes, trapping the tears that were ready to escape. Thranduil kissed her cheek softly, rubbing his hands all over her body.
"You possess an exotic beauty you know," he whispered into her ear. "You would almost be suitable for a wife, with the blood you carry and all." What did he mean by that? Ireth squirmed a little, shifting under his weight. The blood she carried? She carried the blood of just another Dark Elf did she not? But before she could even ask her questions, the King had already pressed his lips against hers roughly, the she-elf closing her eyes, beginning to block out reality.
*
As the hour grew late, and the castle became to ease, Ebremniel rubbed her hands together nervously. Where was Ireth? It was already half past 9 o clock, and her daughter had not yet returned to the servant quarters. The living facilities of the servants and workers were on the western wing of the castle. It was large and dark yet cozy area, where several little rooms were built into. But the outer parts of it, where the Lómë cooked, ate and danced to music and prayed was reminiscent to the household of a large Lómë family. Drums that were used and beaten sat against the stone walls, portraits of the Goddess sat perched against a shrine. Also Lómë rugs and cooking ware was spread across the cooking and resting rooms. All of the different families lived in this large room, and it was like a huge family. And yet, while all of the other dark Elves rested easily, Ebremniel's mind was alit with questions. Was she with the Prince? It was normal for Ireth to spend the whole night conversing with Legolas. Yet, at times Ebremniel wondered if there was more than conversation going on between the two.
Ireth and Legolas were unbearably close and many Lómë could tell. Most of the Lómë Elders disapproved of it, thinking that it was not right for Ireth to befriend her own enslaver. But not even the sharp tongues and wicked advice had changed Ireth's attitude towards her friend. Yet Ebremniel knew that if Ireth and Legolas did get involved with each other, it would only be Ireth who would receive the punishment. Punishment from both the Light and Dark elves. The Light elves would put her into exile probably, and the Lómë would see her as a whore or a very confused dark Elf who needed to be put into her place. Ebremniel knew that her heart could not take that pressure, and every night before she lay to rest, she prayed to the Goddess to grant her daughter leadership and good choices. And so far, she hoped her praying has been helping. Just then, Ebremniel sat on an old Lómë rug, crossing her elegant legs and staring straightforward into the mirror across from her. The mirror (though it was cracked) showed the reflection of an older She-elf, a sheer morsel of proof of where Ireth had inherited her looks. Although an older She-elf, Ebremniel still held her shapely body and strong posture. The only difference that could be told was her hair. It was short and brown, numerous beads and braids strewn about. Ebremniel looked away. Where was Ireth? Suddenly then, Teyêkna ran past, a long branch trailing behind him. He stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed his Mother sitting on the rug. She wore a look of calmness yet worriness.
"Tiapä?" he muttered quietly. He walked over to her, sitting down. Ebremniel turned to face him, blinking.
"Have you seen your sister as of late?"
"Nay," replied the Elfling. "But I did catch ill word from one of the nobles that she had gotten into trouble once more. Her wicked tongue has spoken mild blasphemy I suppose."
Ebremniel held back a gasp, glancing down at her hands.
"Dânya bagé moin tinä*," muttered the She-Elf frantically. She was whispering a prayer. She knew where Ireth was.
*
"And so Ireth, you've never been to your city of birth?" asked Legolas quietly.
"Nay," replied Ireth, who sat across from him on the bed. She had gone straight to his room after the ordeal with his Father, yet she told him nothing of the treatment or physical interactions that had occurred. Never having the heart to tell Legolas burned Ireth. They were always the ones to tell each other's secrets to each other, and laugh about the silliness of them all. But no, she could not tell the stories of the horror his Father had brought to her dreams. And so she quickly blocked them out as quickly has they happened, and she appeared to Legolas happy and serene, as if nothing were the matter. And besides, she was glad to see him in a better mood than he had been in the past couple of weeks.
Legolas however still pondered at Ireth's secret suffering. He knew deep in his heart that she was struggling with her own sadness, but yet she would never open up to him. The young Prince crossed his legs and began to trace a stitch along his bed spread. He smiled.
"Do you remember when your Mother made me this quilt?" he asked. Ireth smiled also and ran a hand over it, nodding.
"It did not take her long," she replied. "She rather enjoyed making it. She said that it reminded her of the days when she was back in the native land." Always did her mother speak of the great land. Ireth alone had never seen it yet she wished with all of her heart to become free, and set foot there.
"You know," began Ireth slowly. "I do plan to escape from this place and go to Lómë Reana, one day at least." To this, Legolas glanced at her, his blues eyes searching her face. Surely she was not serious? The cost for a slave to run away from this place was sudden death. But then again, Legolas could understand her need to see her native country. She was born in Mirkwood, yet she was still an Elf to the Lómë and would not be complete until she witnessed the great city. This thought made Legolas think. Would it be possible if? Well yes perhaps it could happen!
"Ireth!" he exclaimed. Ireth's glanced at him, tearing her eyes away from the beautiful dark quilt.
"What?" she asked. She saw Legolas' excited face.
"Wouldn't it be interesting if I could talk my Father into allowing me and you, and of course others to visit the great city of Lómë Reana?" He said all of this very fast.
"Uh, what?" stuttered Ireth. She did wish that Legolas would stop raising her hopes up. "Your Father would never stand for it you know."
"Yes he would!" retorted Legolas. "He has always said that he thought that I should venture about the lands and collect memories. Ireth this is the perfect idea!" Legolas' smiling was contagious and soon Ireth couldn't stop smiling to herself. And even though the King would probably turn down the idea, she couldn't help but feel excited. She jumped to her feet and twirled around, grinning.
"Legolas," she said, collapsing back onto the bed. "If this is to happen, I should very well die happy."
To be continued..
NOTES:
Sunã - The English equivalent of this would be "Bastard". Dânya bágë moin - Translation to this is "Danya help me!" Jen ni danarä zyán du - I don't know what to do! Dânya bagé moin tinä - Danya help my daughter.
I do believe that is all. I know this chapter was kind of rusty but I had caught a mild dose of writer's block but I really wanted to add a new chapter. So please review!