LOVE'S CHANCE AT FATE
**AHEM** Please don't sue me for changes in plot lines, the use of Tolkien's world, or Elvish translations. Word translations made possible by:
So please don't sue me. I CITED!
Chapter Four: Memories and Decisions
Elwen stared out the window at twinkling stars, thinking of days long ago. She could remember when her daughter was only a little elf, no more than ten years old.
Flashback
A beautiful afternoon filled the forest with a golden light. Vilisse sat down near a trunk, prowling in wait for her Master of Lessons to come. He had told her that today was special, and she would find out if only she met him near the edge of the wood. He eventually came about looking for her. She stayed silent, not making a sound to alert him of her location. He looked around and slowly came near the base of the trunk she lay behind.
He called out her name once or twice, and she did not answer. She stuffed her laughter down as he walked away. It worked!
When he was out of hearing distance, Vilisse sat up, looking around. There was not a soul to be found, just branches that swayed gently in the breeze. She stared up at one in particular, shielding her eyes from the blinding sunlight. I wonder how they got so tall? Suppose they are immortal like us? She pondered. No, nothing can live as long as the elves. Vilisse began to walk further in the wood, ignoring all the warnings she had been given about getting lost. I am Mirkwoodian, after all, she had thought bravely. I can't get lost in my own woods. Her Master of Lessons had especially warned her about the wood, and how scary it can be alone with no sense of direction. But she always figured that because he was from Rivendell, he wasn't as well acquainted with the woods as she was. Vilisse blew off his dusty advice and decided to go as far as her feet would carry her.
Meanwhile, back in the Palace Halls...
Lord Huore paced back and forth on the great marble floor. It was almost dark now, and his daughter was no where to be found. Istimar, her Master of Lessons, had reported her missing for nearly five hours. All the things that could happen to his little elf... he didn't even want to imagine.
Elvenking Thranduil sat upon his throne in the adjoining marble hall. He had his hands clasped under his chin, and was deep in thought. A quiet voice startled him from his thoughts. He looked up to see his son, who was no more than 11.
"Father," said his son, lowering his head in respect, "Perhaps she is still in the wood. May we look for her there?" He raised his piercing blue eyes to meet with a pair exactly the same. The King smiled at him.
"My dear Legolas, the guard has searched the edge of the wood, and she was not to be found, and the hour is late. Why are you not in bed?" He asked his son.
"I came to console you. Father, you seem to be heavily burdened as of late."
"It must be true, what they say," he said, smiling. "'The young can see through every barrier around the mind'. Yes Legolas, the kingdom you and I share always seems to have a heavy burden of some sort to lay upon its King. Now why don't you go to bed? Your friend will be found by morning, have no fear." He kissed his son on the head and sent him off to bed. Though this seemed to satisfy the prince, Lord Huore still paced worriedly in the connecting corridor. Why had she wondered off? He could only imagine what he would do if he saw her again.
Flashback over
It hadn't seemed long ago that Vilisse took her first flirt with the wood. Many of her kind were entranced by its beauty and serenity. Vilisse had been 'claimed' by it, as they say in Mirkwood. Huore and Elwen had not let her near it alone again, lest she wander off and almost be lost, like that mid-summer's eve she was ten. But, Vilisse continued to take walks in the woods near their home, which wasn't far from the Cave, the Palace of Mirkwood.
Now Elwen smiled fondly at her daughter's memory. She would have given anything just to see her. The truth remained that Elwen wouldn't have made her marry the Prince of Mirkwood, if only she would just come home! However, Vilisse's father was quite a different story. He would hunt her down till the end of his days, wherever that might be. He also loved his daughter, but it was shed in a different light. He loved her for her potential.
Huore had known from the beginning of his daughter's life that she was destined to be greater than some maid of another wealthy couple. He had told her that time and again as she grew up, complaining of her lessons, especially of Mirkwood's politics. When she was little, she hadn't put up such a fight as in her later adolescence, but then she hadn't known what she was destined for. Vilisse had every little girl's dream: that of a being a princess. But Vilisse grew out of her childish dreams and woke to up to reality. Huore shook his head. Vilisse had been one of the most stuck up elf-maidens he had ever known. Almost as bad a human! He thought to himself many times. But the truth was, nothing could change her fate, and he knew this.
Long ago, before he had settled down with Elwen and sat in the Council of King Thranduil, Huore Arandur had journeyed to Lothlorien, the beloved realm of the Golden Elves. He had been just a young lad then, barely 400 years old. He remembered his divine experience of meeting Queen Galadriel. She had shown him a magical water mirror.
Flashback
"Look into the mirror, Huore Arandur, and you shall see what you may. This mirror shows things that might yet come to pass, that are, and that have already crossed over for you." She spoke wisely, her form glowing ominously.
"Does it show the truth?" He had asked her innocently, not intending any offense. She had known this the moment he thought it.
"It has been known to be truthful." She glided away from the bowl, and let him step up. It was dark inside, and began to flash pictures of what was familiar to him. He saw a beautiful Elf standing gracefully before himself, and he held her hands. Then he saw the Greenwood, (Mirkwood before it turned Mirkish, infested with the dark allegiances of Mordor) and himself setting foot there with this Lady. He was then shown a view of the Greenwood palace cave, which he had not stepped foot in. Then he was shone something quite different. Huore was shown an elven maiden with features strikingly close to his own. She stood next to a golden-haired Elf, who held her hands tightly and bore a ring for her delicate finger. Then the bowl clouded over, and all else disappeared. He looked up to ask Queen Galadriel why he had been shown the later of the reminiscence, but found himself alone.
Flashback over
Huore often pondered the meaning of these visions during the coming years. Then he had met the beautiful elf in the mirror, and all else failed his memory.
He thought back on it now, wishing he could have made it come true. A film of gray clouded over his confidence. He had to find her, he must. If she could not be found, then she would be declared dead. The greatest honor, it seemed to him now, would have been giving his daughter away to the eldest Prince of Mirkwood. But if Vilisse could not find it in her heart to come back to them or to common sense, then he would have to move on. 'If I pronounce her dead to the kingdom, then she had better wish she's dead,' brooded Lord Huore.
Translations:
Vilisse: (meaning in Quenya) a person's "spirit", meaning his or her general personality and attitude.
Huore: Heart-vigor, aggressive in the ways of the heart (traditional spelled with two dots above the e, however my computer doesn't know the codes).
Istima: Knowledge, learned.
Elwen: Hearted- to have heart.
Arandur: A King's servant, Steward.
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