Yes, I'm still here.
~Phe-chan~
Morniwen managed to convince Legolas not to mention their prospective journey to Andrea, and indeed to take careful pains that the child did not find out from any one else, for fear that "the poor little thing would cause such a scene." The two of them explained their intentions to King Thranduil, who agreed to allow them and an entourage of elves to make the journey to Rivendell, but asked them to send him word if from there they decided to continue on to Aman. It was then a matter of weeks of careful preparation and planning.
During this time, Andrea was still enamored of her art set, which both she and Legolas strove not to mention in front of Morniwen, and she took it everywhere, sketching waterfalls, flowers, sunsets, Elven feasts, and Elven hunting parties, until at last she remembered her previous desire to draw the magnificence of Thranduil's Throne Room. One morning, therefore, she laid out her parchments and "tool-box," as she lovingly called it, in the floor in the corner of the room. Thranduil took a sort of indulgent pleasure in watching her work as he conducted the domestic matters of his court.
Then the Dwarves were brought in. Andrea watched Thranduil's mood take an instant and frighteningly dramatic swing for the worse. He began questioning them harshly as to why they had thrice attacked his people at their merry-making in the forest. Andrea cocked her head. These people looked too small to attack anyone. The Elves should have been able to kick their butts and go on "merry-making" in a span of about two minutes. Obviously they had, or the Dwarves wouldn't be standing in the Throne Room in chains.
The Dwarves, standing quite near to Andrea's makeshift studio in the corner, pleaded that they had not meant to attack anyone, but had come instead to beg, for they were starving. Andrea felt an instant pity, and decided that she liked the funny little men. They were cute and pitiful, just like her, instead of being so absolutely gorgeous that she felt worthless beside them, as the Elves were. She stood up in order to get a better look at them, and proceeded to slosh her dirty paint-water all over the nearest dwarf.
"ACK! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry! Gomen! Gomen!" She bent to try and help dry the little man, but only succeeded in falling over. "Ahhhhhh, no! I'm sorry! I'm so clumsy! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry!"
"Andrea! Little Mortal," Thranduil interjected gently, "do not waste your courtesies on such as these. You have not done anything wrong."
"But I spilt it all over him," Andrea protested miserably.
The Dwarf (who happened to be Glóin) stood there dripping and blinking, seeming unable, due to his present state of shock, to do anything more intelligent at the moment.
"With such precise aim," Thranduil nodded happily. "We'll make an archer of you yet, Little One."
With a perplexed sigh, Andrea sat down and reluctantly continued painting. Elves were pretty, but they were confusing, too. She tried not to listen to the king's heated debate with what seemed to be the Head Dwarf (readers of The Hobbit will remember that this was Balin, as Thorin had previously been separated from the group); she did not like it when Thranduil was angry. He frightened her. She did look up when the king sentenced the Dwarves to prison, but from the look on Thranduil's face, she knew that right now was not the best time to attempt an intercession in their favor.
Things went on thus for several weeks as Legolas hand-selected the friends he would like to have with him on his journey. Andrea approached Thranduil several times on the Dwarves' behalf, reminding him that he had spared her for the same reasons that the Dwarves wished to be spared, but he would not listen. Apparently there was some political motive behind all of it, but Andrea was not a political person, and did not really understand much of it, except that Dwarves and Elves really didn't like each other. Then one evening, just days before Legolas and Morniwen were to leave, Galion accidentally let fall in front of Andrea some particulars about the Eleven-prince's impending journey. Crushed, Andrea returned slowly to her room and sank down onto the bed. He hadn't told her he was going to leave. She tried hard to fight the tears that were welling up in her eyes.
"I want to go home," she whispered wistfully.
After all, why now should she stay? These sorrowful thoughts occupied her for some moments before an idea occurred to her. What about the Dwarves? If she left, who would plead their case? They couldn't stay down there forever. Thranduil had said that they must stay put until they "feel inclined to tell the truth, even if they wait a hundred years." That wasn't fair; Thranduil had a hundred years to burn, but the Dwarves didn't.
"Yeah, OK," she whispered, "I'll stay for the Dwarves. Besides, Galion talked like Legolas was coming back. But I'm only staying for the Dwarves!" she added hastily to no one.
The next few days somehow passed both all too swiftly and murderously slowly for the little human. Every time she saw Legolas and Morniwen together, she had to stand still and remind herself,
"I'm staying for the dwarves."
She became so anguished and so desirous of her home that she did some things she might never have done in her normal state of mind. Once, she even went straight into the king's private apartments and demanded that he "let those stupid midgets go so I can go home!" A less understanding elf would have had her severely punished for such impudence, but Thranduil very wisely called his queen to him and asked her to see if she could not comfort the child. Andrea calmed down, but would not explain why she was so upset.
Then, the night before the Elven-party was to set out, a storm exploded that none of the most skillful Elves could have predicted: Morniwen found out about the art set.
"Do you love her, then?" she demanded furiously.
"Of course not! May I not make gifts to my father's guests without answering to you for it? Or only when they are not female? Beware your envy, my lady. It taints you so that you are no longer fair, in my sight or the sight of others!"
"I have every right to be jealous! You are mine; you were promised to me! And here this little MORTAL steps in and -"
"And tells me that she is bored and likes to paint. Does she not have as much right to enjoy her life in this forest as you?"
"No, she does not! I am an elf! I belong here! I belong with YOU! She is a wretched little human orphan that has no business here! Let her go back to her own people and ask them for paints!"
"She never asked me for paints! She told me she enjoyed painting, and as a common courtesy, I provided her the means! There is nothing more!"
"Oh, but there is so much more! I have watched her, I have watched you, and I have surprised looks in her eyes that tell me everything you will not!"
"She loves me! I know this! I give you that point!" Legolas cried. "But why should this mean that I have any place in my heart for her? Do you call me a liar? Do you call me infidel? Have a care, my lady, have great care! You grow less beautiful every moment that your jealousy consumes you thus. I will not live an eternity with envy and hate! I will not suffer your suspicion every time another female becomes my friend! Have a care, my lady, or I will go before my father, and our engagement will be ended!"
Morniwen froze, her eyes and mouth working furiously.
"For HER?" she managed at last. "You threaten to leave me over HER?"
"No, I threaten to leave you over YOU. You are no longer lovely in my sight. You are bitter and cold. I will not live forever with one such as you."
Morniwen screamed and made as if she would strangle him, then turned and ran out into the gardens.
Andrea seemed born to misery. She was painting in the starlit palace gardens when Morniwen came running past and then stopped and turned, dangerously still, watching Andrea with an _expression the girl had never seen before.
"So." Morniwen murmured. "Speak to me bold words now, Little Fool," she commanded in a hideous voice, "for I am ready to answer you."
"I - I don't understand," Andrea whispered, terrified.
"No, indeed?" Morniwen growled, barely restraining herself. Then she stopped. She knew now how to cause hurt here... to the child... and to the prince who dared threaten to desert her.
"Well, then I will speak first," she told Andrea in a much calmer manner, smilingly cruelly. "We leave tomorrow, Little Fool. You have lost. We go forthwith to Aman, Legolas and I... to be married."
"What?" Andrea could not help herself; her soul, with all its pain and agony, was laid bare before the Elf. "I thought - I thought -"
"You did think, didn't you? So sorry to disappoint you."
Morniwen swept triumphantly away.
Andrea curled up beside the marble bench, hugging her knees and weeping.
"I'm staying for the Dwarves," she sobbed. "I'm staying for the Dwarves."
"Hi! Human Child!" called a fair voice.
Andrea sat up and wiped her eyes. A sentry of the Elves was hastening towards her.
"Where is Prince Legolas?" he asked her, to excited to take any notice of her tears.
"I - I don't know. Why?" she sniffled.
"I must tell him: the Dwarven prisoners have escaped!"
He ran back towards the palace without heeding her distress.
"So much for staying for the Dwarves," Andrea whispered.
~Phe-chan~
Morniwen managed to convince Legolas not to mention their prospective journey to Andrea, and indeed to take careful pains that the child did not find out from any one else, for fear that "the poor little thing would cause such a scene." The two of them explained their intentions to King Thranduil, who agreed to allow them and an entourage of elves to make the journey to Rivendell, but asked them to send him word if from there they decided to continue on to Aman. It was then a matter of weeks of careful preparation and planning.
During this time, Andrea was still enamored of her art set, which both she and Legolas strove not to mention in front of Morniwen, and she took it everywhere, sketching waterfalls, flowers, sunsets, Elven feasts, and Elven hunting parties, until at last she remembered her previous desire to draw the magnificence of Thranduil's Throne Room. One morning, therefore, she laid out her parchments and "tool-box," as she lovingly called it, in the floor in the corner of the room. Thranduil took a sort of indulgent pleasure in watching her work as he conducted the domestic matters of his court.
Then the Dwarves were brought in. Andrea watched Thranduil's mood take an instant and frighteningly dramatic swing for the worse. He began questioning them harshly as to why they had thrice attacked his people at their merry-making in the forest. Andrea cocked her head. These people looked too small to attack anyone. The Elves should have been able to kick their butts and go on "merry-making" in a span of about two minutes. Obviously they had, or the Dwarves wouldn't be standing in the Throne Room in chains.
The Dwarves, standing quite near to Andrea's makeshift studio in the corner, pleaded that they had not meant to attack anyone, but had come instead to beg, for they were starving. Andrea felt an instant pity, and decided that she liked the funny little men. They were cute and pitiful, just like her, instead of being so absolutely gorgeous that she felt worthless beside them, as the Elves were. She stood up in order to get a better look at them, and proceeded to slosh her dirty paint-water all over the nearest dwarf.
"ACK! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry! Gomen! Gomen!" She bent to try and help dry the little man, but only succeeded in falling over. "Ahhhhhh, no! I'm sorry! I'm so clumsy! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry!"
"Andrea! Little Mortal," Thranduil interjected gently, "do not waste your courtesies on such as these. You have not done anything wrong."
"But I spilt it all over him," Andrea protested miserably.
The Dwarf (who happened to be Glóin) stood there dripping and blinking, seeming unable, due to his present state of shock, to do anything more intelligent at the moment.
"With such precise aim," Thranduil nodded happily. "We'll make an archer of you yet, Little One."
With a perplexed sigh, Andrea sat down and reluctantly continued painting. Elves were pretty, but they were confusing, too. She tried not to listen to the king's heated debate with what seemed to be the Head Dwarf (readers of The Hobbit will remember that this was Balin, as Thorin had previously been separated from the group); she did not like it when Thranduil was angry. He frightened her. She did look up when the king sentenced the Dwarves to prison, but from the look on Thranduil's face, she knew that right now was not the best time to attempt an intercession in their favor.
Things went on thus for several weeks as Legolas hand-selected the friends he would like to have with him on his journey. Andrea approached Thranduil several times on the Dwarves' behalf, reminding him that he had spared her for the same reasons that the Dwarves wished to be spared, but he would not listen. Apparently there was some political motive behind all of it, but Andrea was not a political person, and did not really understand much of it, except that Dwarves and Elves really didn't like each other. Then one evening, just days before Legolas and Morniwen were to leave, Galion accidentally let fall in front of Andrea some particulars about the Eleven-prince's impending journey. Crushed, Andrea returned slowly to her room and sank down onto the bed. He hadn't told her he was going to leave. She tried hard to fight the tears that were welling up in her eyes.
"I want to go home," she whispered wistfully.
After all, why now should she stay? These sorrowful thoughts occupied her for some moments before an idea occurred to her. What about the Dwarves? If she left, who would plead their case? They couldn't stay down there forever. Thranduil had said that they must stay put until they "feel inclined to tell the truth, even if they wait a hundred years." That wasn't fair; Thranduil had a hundred years to burn, but the Dwarves didn't.
"Yeah, OK," she whispered, "I'll stay for the Dwarves. Besides, Galion talked like Legolas was coming back. But I'm only staying for the Dwarves!" she added hastily to no one.
The next few days somehow passed both all too swiftly and murderously slowly for the little human. Every time she saw Legolas and Morniwen together, she had to stand still and remind herself,
"I'm staying for the dwarves."
She became so anguished and so desirous of her home that she did some things she might never have done in her normal state of mind. Once, she even went straight into the king's private apartments and demanded that he "let those stupid midgets go so I can go home!" A less understanding elf would have had her severely punished for such impudence, but Thranduil very wisely called his queen to him and asked her to see if she could not comfort the child. Andrea calmed down, but would not explain why she was so upset.
Then, the night before the Elven-party was to set out, a storm exploded that none of the most skillful Elves could have predicted: Morniwen found out about the art set.
"Do you love her, then?" she demanded furiously.
"Of course not! May I not make gifts to my father's guests without answering to you for it? Or only when they are not female? Beware your envy, my lady. It taints you so that you are no longer fair, in my sight or the sight of others!"
"I have every right to be jealous! You are mine; you were promised to me! And here this little MORTAL steps in and -"
"And tells me that she is bored and likes to paint. Does she not have as much right to enjoy her life in this forest as you?"
"No, she does not! I am an elf! I belong here! I belong with YOU! She is a wretched little human orphan that has no business here! Let her go back to her own people and ask them for paints!"
"She never asked me for paints! She told me she enjoyed painting, and as a common courtesy, I provided her the means! There is nothing more!"
"Oh, but there is so much more! I have watched her, I have watched you, and I have surprised looks in her eyes that tell me everything you will not!"
"She loves me! I know this! I give you that point!" Legolas cried. "But why should this mean that I have any place in my heart for her? Do you call me a liar? Do you call me infidel? Have a care, my lady, have great care! You grow less beautiful every moment that your jealousy consumes you thus. I will not live an eternity with envy and hate! I will not suffer your suspicion every time another female becomes my friend! Have a care, my lady, or I will go before my father, and our engagement will be ended!"
Morniwen froze, her eyes and mouth working furiously.
"For HER?" she managed at last. "You threaten to leave me over HER?"
"No, I threaten to leave you over YOU. You are no longer lovely in my sight. You are bitter and cold. I will not live forever with one such as you."
Morniwen screamed and made as if she would strangle him, then turned and ran out into the gardens.
Andrea seemed born to misery. She was painting in the starlit palace gardens when Morniwen came running past and then stopped and turned, dangerously still, watching Andrea with an _expression the girl had never seen before.
"So." Morniwen murmured. "Speak to me bold words now, Little Fool," she commanded in a hideous voice, "for I am ready to answer you."
"I - I don't understand," Andrea whispered, terrified.
"No, indeed?" Morniwen growled, barely restraining herself. Then she stopped. She knew now how to cause hurt here... to the child... and to the prince who dared threaten to desert her.
"Well, then I will speak first," she told Andrea in a much calmer manner, smilingly cruelly. "We leave tomorrow, Little Fool. You have lost. We go forthwith to Aman, Legolas and I... to be married."
"What?" Andrea could not help herself; her soul, with all its pain and agony, was laid bare before the Elf. "I thought - I thought -"
"You did think, didn't you? So sorry to disappoint you."
Morniwen swept triumphantly away.
Andrea curled up beside the marble bench, hugging her knees and weeping.
"I'm staying for the Dwarves," she sobbed. "I'm staying for the Dwarves."
"Hi! Human Child!" called a fair voice.
Andrea sat up and wiped her eyes. A sentry of the Elves was hastening towards her.
"Where is Prince Legolas?" he asked her, to excited to take any notice of her tears.
"I - I don't know. Why?" she sniffled.
"I must tell him: the Dwarven prisoners have escaped!"
He ran back towards the palace without heeding her distress.
"So much for staying for the Dwarves," Andrea whispered.