Author's introduction: The prelude is a little slow, but I beg of you to read it… I haven't had anyone pre-read this, and I could use some help with it, if anyone's interested.   Anyway, enjoy…


Within the Heart
Prelude
Rain on a Clear Night

She welcomed storms only because she despised silence.   There were times when she could sit in the dead void of her room, which was really no more than a cell behind the Elvish walls of Rivendell, and hear the quiet tick of the grandfather clock below her in the great dance hall.   Ticking, ticking, ticking…and it drove her mad!   The rain drowned out all of that, however, as well as the light voices and soft laughter that echoed in the outer corridors during the day, particularly in the twilight hours. She especially hated their singing, as well as their simple appreciation for the life that she so despised.   Tonight, the rain had saved her sanity.

She should have appreciated their generosity, their pity, and the second chance that they had given her. Should have, but didn't.  She resented everything that had brought her there: poverty, death, vulnerability, and revenge.   By rights she should have been executed, and perhaps she would have preferred it that way, for life's servitude was a sentence that could often be more painful.   There were too many hours in a day to think, though it was not as if she wasn't busy.  

Elves had returned to and repopulated Middle Earth long after the destruction of the One Ring had occurred.   Most had flocked to Rivendell, but others dwelled in the forests of Mirkwood, and fewer still occupied the Druadan, Forlond, and Fangorn woodlands Others still roamed the lands and lived where they pleased. Yet, four times a year the Elves congregated at the palace of Elrond for elaborate celebrations of the seasons

The servants of Rivendell stayed out of site as much as possible. Behind the beautifully carved or painted walls of the palace was a maze of narrow, dimly lit corridors, which provided the servants with an "invisible" passage throughout the castle.   The headmaster and headmistress ruled the servants with a set of iron fists, and below them, their charges were dividedinto four classes:  hand servants, the most well dressed of the employees, who served as personal attendants to Elrond and his guests, cleaning the private suites of the palace; kitchen servants, adorned in white or black, cooked and cleaned in the kitchen all day; outdoor servants, in their sturdy, dark attire, tended to the gardens and stables; and the lowest of the serving class, common servants, cared for the large public rooms, passageways, and whatever other painfully difficult tasks their masters could come up with.   She, herself, was a common servant.   At least she had been a common servant, until just recently.

A shortage in service and an overabundance of elves had forced her into the headmistress's office that very morning.   "Ma'am," she bowed her head to alert the older woman of her presence.

"As you know, the week of Ehtele' mele is upon us, as of tomorrow," the woman began, getting right to business.   Everyone knew this, of course, for the preparations for the spring equinox, the coming of spring, had been going on for weeks on end.   "Elrond's guests are to arrive at first light in the morning. A few are scheduled to arrive this evening." 

She had already grown impatient, wishing to be out of the office and busy with her usual chores. She didn't doubt that she was about to be burdened with an extra set of stairs or a particularly well-trodden hallway. The headmistress continued, "Your duties will have to be increased, for the time being, to suffice for the amount of guests staying within the palace I have a list of the services we willrequire of you right here," she was handed a pale envelope, crested with a cherry wax seal, but didn't open it. The headmistress asked, "Do you understand?"

Right.

"Yes, ma'am," she bowed at the waist and started for the door.

"Your new wardrobe will be sent to your chamber immediately Please see to it that you dress properly for your new duties."

She stopped; turned around. "I beg pardon ma'am," she balled her hands into fists at her sides, "New wardrobe?" she didn't like the ring of the words in her ears.  

"Of course, a new wardrobe," snapped the headmistress, "We can't have you attending the guests in the current rags you call clothes."

She bit back anger, struggling to steady her tone, and swallowed several smart remarks, "Attending?"

"Do you not have ears with which to hear me?" the headmistress's voice raised another notch in anger, her cheeks flushing.   "Of course you will be attending.   The duties we will expect you to perform are listed in that letter."

She looked down at the envelope only to avoid an angry woman's glare.    "Yes, ma'am.  I'm sorry, ma'am."  Her hands shook, and though she desired to rip the letter to pieces and throw it at the headmistress's feet, she restrained herself long enough to raise her face back to the other woman's, and calmly say, "I will see to it that my new duties are completed with perfection."

This satisfied the old wench, "Good, then.   You are dismissed." 

The ordeal had left a bitter taste in her mouth, particularly when she tore open the letter to discover the extent of the tasks thrown on to her.   Now, aside from the original list of common rooms she had been assigned to, she was also faced with two of the private suites, and a small portion of the garden.   Given, she would have more work to keep herself occupied and her mind clear, but she did not appreciate the idea of having to work so close with the elves.  

She knew the inner corridors of Rivendell, and had memorized the Elvin language in secrecy.   A lifetime of surviving by taking what she could from her surroundings was now serving her quite well, though it didn't stop her from despising it.  

One of her new room's tenants arrived in the early afternoon, shortly after she had learned of her allegiance to the new portion of Elrond's palace.   Ignoring the headmistress's warning, she had not taken the time to change into one of her new uniforms before hurriedly rushing to tidy the first of the suites.   She was polishing the elegantly carved nightstand when he unexpectedly entered the room, and she snapped up straight to see him.  

For one devastatingly long moment they simply stared at each other He was fair, as were all elves, tall, and beautifully sculpted.   High cheekbones, delicately braided pale hair, and piercingly blue eyes marked his features. Regardless, it was fear that laced through her stomach.   She straightened her shoulders and set her jaw, "I'm sorry," she spoke calmly, her voice low and melodic, "I'm nearly finished here.   I'll be only a minute more." 

He said nothing, but watched her silently as she continued her task.   The hairs on her neck stood on end as she felt his eyes on her body, and she hastily finished her chores. She exited the room with barely a farewell, and then raced to her chambers where she allowed herself to shake with fear and a birthing anger.  

Snatching up the envelope from the place she had haphazardly tossed it on her bed, she turned to the second page of the letter and silently read the name that she had overlooked before.  

Prince Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood.

She knew of him, of course. There wasn't a single person within miles that hadn't heard of the handsome, former member of the One Ring's fellowship.   Never had she expected to be his personal attendant.   What now, what now?   She suddenly felt very ugly, displeased with herself for having not taken the time to change into the new uniform. 

Touching the soft, green material that was spread over the bed, she wondered at her new job.   Why had she been assigned this horrible duty? She glanced at the letter again, reading the other name printed in that bastardly fine, elegant script.  

Sir Cassius Neverwinter of Mirkwood.  

The name meant less authority, but no less of a threat.   A sudden hatred towards the headmistress for assigning her these two male elves plagued her.   Why, why, why? But there was no answer, and nothing she could do to change the situation.   It was, after all, only one week… She kept the thought in mind as she undressed and slipped into the cool material of the green uniform.  

She had been instructed to deliver the prince his supper to his room, that evening, for the grand majority of Elrond's guests had yet to arrive, and no banquet was prepared. The scents on the tray smelled far lovelier than any of the food that the servants were fed.   She knocked softly on the door, for she had been warned that loud knocks were not acceptable.

Surprisingly enough, no call came from within, and the Elvin prince opened the door himself.   "Your supper, highness," she acknowledged him, and was surprised yet again when he did not move aside for her to bring the tray in, but took the tray into his own hands.

Thanking her, he turned away and set the tray on a desk. As she stepped back and started to leave, he spoke again.   "Excuse me," she turned back, hoping he made no ridiculous requests of her service, for it was indeed late enough to be carrying dinner trays.   It irritated her that he waited for her not only to turn around, but also to walk back to the doorway before he spoke again.   "I'm sorry to have upset you earlier."

Could he possibly surprise her any more, she wondered?   "Upset me?" she reiterated, having not expected him to catch any wind of her fear.  

"You appeared to be somewhat thrown off by my appearance," he continued, his voice a velvety quiet. "You must not have been expecting me for at least another day, I'm sorry."

Almost shivering under his gaze, she let the words sink in a moment, and decided that his assumption would be good for her own alibi, "It's no problem, my lord," she dipped into a shallow bow, "The suite was to be in perfect condition for today regardless." 

"I see," he responded with no change to his tone, and she stepped back to make her escape once again. "Miss…" he trailed off until she turned back once more, "I wasn't given your name…?"

If she looked at his eyes a moment longer, she feared she would be pulled into them and trapped inside forever.   "Elleura, my lord," and she did shiver.   One step backwards, then two. He turned away from her and she was finally able to escape into the elaborate hallway.   When she reached her chamber, she cried.  

The isolation of her room brought her no comfort.   From time to time, the singing voice of a passing elf could be heard as they strolled through the outer hallways.   When the sky opened up she was intrigued, for it had been a clear night.   There were no windows that gave her an image of the outside world, but one skylight above her.   The storm pounded on the roof, and the moon slipped into hiding.  

She sat up for long hours into the night, seated cross-legged on the center of the floor. The room was thick with darkness, and she was visible, even to herself, only when lightning dared to slice through the air and crack the sky, forcing flickers of light through the skylight.   She was waiting, as she did every night, for a peace that she had gradually began to accept would never come.   She hated to be alone, hated to think.   Thinking usually brought back memories, and memories haunted her in a terribly painful manor. Tonight, though, his face and voice plagued her.

Lightning cracked the black sky, momentarily illuminating her still form and the rest of the room. She thought she saw him standing there, and held her breath as she waited for another flash of light to prove her mind's trickery.   Rain pounded on the roof like an army of orcs beating down the door.   She relished in the noise, letting it take her far away from Middle-Earth, to a place where no past or present haunted her. It was there that sleep finally discovered her.  



Closure note:  I will accept (and enjoy) comments and suggestions, and I'll entertain any questions. ^_^  Please feel free to express yourself.   Do you think the Legolas/Servant thing is too over done?   This is my first ever LotR fanfiction…