Random: I fixed most of what I could, and I kept her coloration because in
the movie both the important Rivendell characters were brown-haired and
Elrond even had brown eyes. I am going to go by the movie for visuals
because even if the readers have read the books and realize that some
details (like Arwen's grey eyes) where not translated correctly, they will
probably still picture her with blue eyes like she had in the movie. I
also fixed the names.
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Legolas's ears barely caught Eruanne's whispered statement, so quietly did she her lips form the words. He stood there for a moment, in the murky, emerald-colored courtyard, the wind blowing at his hair.
Almost unwillingly his eyes slid over to her unmoving form. Her brown eyes, veiled thickly with dark lashes, stared straight ahead. Her nose, thin and proud was prominent in her face, overshadowing her pale, chapped lips that were set in creamy, unwrinkled skin. Overall her looks were one that bordered on the line between masculinity and femininely, yet one could never mistake her as a male, for she radiated the aura of that which a queen would have. A just queen, one that looked upon her subjects as her children, though they may have seen twice as many summers as her. It was caring, but not condes- His thoughts abruptly stopped when he realized the direction they had taken.
'Why do I feel this way about a maiden that I have just met? I do not even know her name.' He glanced over her. Grey mist was rising from the pond. It seeped over the grasses and trees, winding its thick tendrils around her form, blurring everything else. Before his eyes he watched as everything turned a muted grey, except her. She still stood proud and strong, dressed simply in her working garb. It was if sign from the Valar. 'We are destined greatness,' he thought in his head, nothing romantic or erotic clouding his thoughts. He felt a genuine liking towards this elf, a liking that would feel to a close friend. 'Yes indeed, I see friendship in our future.'
It was all in a heartbeat's time that this came to his mind, and when he blinked again the mysterious fog had risen and his mind stood patiently in the grass, hands on their horses necks.
"My men await your direction," he said with an intake of breath, "Mistress- "
"Vanimedlë." Eruanne did not look at Legolas as she said it, her voice was sharp and flat as a blade, cutting through the air to reach him.
"Ah Mistress Vanimedlë, what would you have my men do then?" He addressed her levelly, eyes focused on hers, not blinking or shifting, just a steady dark gaze upon her face. Eruanne squirmed uncomfortably, feeling an almost physical pressure as he looked upon the planes of her face.
Eruanne cleared her throat, "Follow me." She walked off into the darkness of the stables, the ground littered with golden straw.
~~~~~~
I have walked upon this Earth, this glorious abundance of sights, sounds, tastes and feelings, for thousands of years. Each day, when my eyes open to the morning dawn I feel that could live forever in this same repetition, entrancing in its monotony and safeness but part of me yearns for an adventure. Part of my heart tells me that when the Valar created us Elves, with our beauty and wisdom he did not mean for it to be spent in our own enclosures, sheltered from the eyes of the world. Nay, he meant for us to go forth, and become one with the people that create the world that we rejoice in.
Eruanne rested her back against the plain wood headboard of her bed. In her arms was a leather-bound book. Her journal. She had unbound her dark hair, and it now flowed down her decorated sleeping clothes. So much had happened today and her mind needed time to mull it over, otherwise it would not let her body go to sleep.
Shrugging into the day's clothes as silently as she could, she walked to the door, pinning up half of her hair in the process. Slowly edging her head out of the doorway, she looked to see if anyone was walking down the marble halls.
When minutes had passed and she could here no rustle of fabric that signaled another elf she glided through the hallway, past the Cutlery Entrance to the labyrinth-like kitchen and out the door that led to the Stable Gardens.
The elaborate, yet rigidly controlled gardens, spread out before her like a flowering blanket. Against the sky the trees sat in stark relief, their branches gloomily in the darkness that had befallen their limbs and leaves. The pale sky beyond then was a haunting blue; drifting into black the farther overhead you went.
She walked slowly among the flower stems that reached over the natural stone paths. At last her fingers found the familiar wood gate that was the lesser known of the two entrances to the stable.
Her footsteps could not be heard as she walked through the hall of the stables, for her feet were shod in lithe, suede, riding boots. Her sensitive ears picked up every snort, intake and outtake of breath and hoof scraping against the wood or stone. The stables and the pastures were her sanctuary. The smell of horses was like perfume; it was the smell of her home.
She rested on a straying bale of hay for a moment, feeling the smooth shafts beneath her legs and betwixt her fingers. They grasped a single straw, holding it up to one of the many candles that sat brackets around the stables, its shaft glimmered like a piece of gold, its texture translucent to the burning flame. Her soft brown eyes looked at the straw.
Pushing of the rough-hewn planks of the floor, she stood up. As if feeling her presence one by one the horses in the stalls each poked their heads out. First came their velvety ears and nose, followed by large soft eyes and a silky waterfall mane.
"Losto mae, avo 'osto." She whispered to the row of horses, her white fingers scratched the closest one's neck. It tossed its head playfully, whickering. Her hand stopped on its cheek. "Losto mae," she repeated and it nodded once in a kind of understanding.
~~~~~~
Her path was leading her to the faraway green velvet of the upper pastures. Her soft feet navigated the twisting turns on the carved path up the cliff, it was a path that she had taken to her heart, so many days had she walked upon it.
"Luithan." She called to the seemingly empty pasture, as the wind wound devious fingers through her hair, taking her ribbon with her. "Nae," She cried as her hair unbound to blow free in the winds gentle caress, it soften in the harsh curves of her face, as the moonlight bleached the tan skin to a soft silver. And as she mounted the small white mare that had come to her, it looked like she had discarded the elf that she had been this past day and become someone worlds away.
In some ways of the world, she was. Her body was one of a seemingly different form, though it was still the same flesh and bone that she had been blessed with, her mind was a clearer one, almost more primitive. Her thoughts were not filled with wars, orcs and princes, but the scent of horses, the dark and refreshing wind and long swaying grass. Things closer to her true self, and so she would have stayed in that pasture, gazing over the buildings of Rivendell till the sun rose once again if it had not been for-
"We meet again Mistress Vanimedlë," He said, tucking his silver-blond hair behind his pointed ears. Behind him was Tol-Ereb, pushing his nose into the hollow at the base of his neck. Legolas turned briefly, and spoke quietly to his great red-brown steed. When he looked back, he saw to his dismay that Eruanne had mounted on her mare, and was already walking slowly away through the blowing grass.
In a swift movement, he swung himself up upon the warm back of the stallion. His hands slid themselves through the hairs of its mane. "Ahead," he whispered.
~~~~~~~
Eruanne looked back, Legolas was astride and cantering towards her. Somehow this was wrong, they were only two elves on horseback in the middle of Rivendell's lands. She had shared the pasture before with other restless elves, yet this time it was different. It had never felt like she was at war. *
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* Authors Note: Her horse's name means Enchanted.
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Legolas's ears barely caught Eruanne's whispered statement, so quietly did she her lips form the words. He stood there for a moment, in the murky, emerald-colored courtyard, the wind blowing at his hair.
Almost unwillingly his eyes slid over to her unmoving form. Her brown eyes, veiled thickly with dark lashes, stared straight ahead. Her nose, thin and proud was prominent in her face, overshadowing her pale, chapped lips that were set in creamy, unwrinkled skin. Overall her looks were one that bordered on the line between masculinity and femininely, yet one could never mistake her as a male, for she radiated the aura of that which a queen would have. A just queen, one that looked upon her subjects as her children, though they may have seen twice as many summers as her. It was caring, but not condes- His thoughts abruptly stopped when he realized the direction they had taken.
'Why do I feel this way about a maiden that I have just met? I do not even know her name.' He glanced over her. Grey mist was rising from the pond. It seeped over the grasses and trees, winding its thick tendrils around her form, blurring everything else. Before his eyes he watched as everything turned a muted grey, except her. She still stood proud and strong, dressed simply in her working garb. It was if sign from the Valar. 'We are destined greatness,' he thought in his head, nothing romantic or erotic clouding his thoughts. He felt a genuine liking towards this elf, a liking that would feel to a close friend. 'Yes indeed, I see friendship in our future.'
It was all in a heartbeat's time that this came to his mind, and when he blinked again the mysterious fog had risen and his mind stood patiently in the grass, hands on their horses necks.
"My men await your direction," he said with an intake of breath, "Mistress- "
"Vanimedlë." Eruanne did not look at Legolas as she said it, her voice was sharp and flat as a blade, cutting through the air to reach him.
"Ah Mistress Vanimedlë, what would you have my men do then?" He addressed her levelly, eyes focused on hers, not blinking or shifting, just a steady dark gaze upon her face. Eruanne squirmed uncomfortably, feeling an almost physical pressure as he looked upon the planes of her face.
Eruanne cleared her throat, "Follow me." She walked off into the darkness of the stables, the ground littered with golden straw.
~~~~~~
I have walked upon this Earth, this glorious abundance of sights, sounds, tastes and feelings, for thousands of years. Each day, when my eyes open to the morning dawn I feel that could live forever in this same repetition, entrancing in its monotony and safeness but part of me yearns for an adventure. Part of my heart tells me that when the Valar created us Elves, with our beauty and wisdom he did not mean for it to be spent in our own enclosures, sheltered from the eyes of the world. Nay, he meant for us to go forth, and become one with the people that create the world that we rejoice in.
Eruanne rested her back against the plain wood headboard of her bed. In her arms was a leather-bound book. Her journal. She had unbound her dark hair, and it now flowed down her decorated sleeping clothes. So much had happened today and her mind needed time to mull it over, otherwise it would not let her body go to sleep.
Shrugging into the day's clothes as silently as she could, she walked to the door, pinning up half of her hair in the process. Slowly edging her head out of the doorway, she looked to see if anyone was walking down the marble halls.
When minutes had passed and she could here no rustle of fabric that signaled another elf she glided through the hallway, past the Cutlery Entrance to the labyrinth-like kitchen and out the door that led to the Stable Gardens.
The elaborate, yet rigidly controlled gardens, spread out before her like a flowering blanket. Against the sky the trees sat in stark relief, their branches gloomily in the darkness that had befallen their limbs and leaves. The pale sky beyond then was a haunting blue; drifting into black the farther overhead you went.
She walked slowly among the flower stems that reached over the natural stone paths. At last her fingers found the familiar wood gate that was the lesser known of the two entrances to the stable.
Her footsteps could not be heard as she walked through the hall of the stables, for her feet were shod in lithe, suede, riding boots. Her sensitive ears picked up every snort, intake and outtake of breath and hoof scraping against the wood or stone. The stables and the pastures were her sanctuary. The smell of horses was like perfume; it was the smell of her home.
She rested on a straying bale of hay for a moment, feeling the smooth shafts beneath her legs and betwixt her fingers. They grasped a single straw, holding it up to one of the many candles that sat brackets around the stables, its shaft glimmered like a piece of gold, its texture translucent to the burning flame. Her soft brown eyes looked at the straw.
Pushing of the rough-hewn planks of the floor, she stood up. As if feeling her presence one by one the horses in the stalls each poked their heads out. First came their velvety ears and nose, followed by large soft eyes and a silky waterfall mane.
"Losto mae, avo 'osto." She whispered to the row of horses, her white fingers scratched the closest one's neck. It tossed its head playfully, whickering. Her hand stopped on its cheek. "Losto mae," she repeated and it nodded once in a kind of understanding.
~~~~~~
Her path was leading her to the faraway green velvet of the upper pastures. Her soft feet navigated the twisting turns on the carved path up the cliff, it was a path that she had taken to her heart, so many days had she walked upon it.
"Luithan." She called to the seemingly empty pasture, as the wind wound devious fingers through her hair, taking her ribbon with her. "Nae," She cried as her hair unbound to blow free in the winds gentle caress, it soften in the harsh curves of her face, as the moonlight bleached the tan skin to a soft silver. And as she mounted the small white mare that had come to her, it looked like she had discarded the elf that she had been this past day and become someone worlds away.
In some ways of the world, she was. Her body was one of a seemingly different form, though it was still the same flesh and bone that she had been blessed with, her mind was a clearer one, almost more primitive. Her thoughts were not filled with wars, orcs and princes, but the scent of horses, the dark and refreshing wind and long swaying grass. Things closer to her true self, and so she would have stayed in that pasture, gazing over the buildings of Rivendell till the sun rose once again if it had not been for-
"We meet again Mistress Vanimedlë," He said, tucking his silver-blond hair behind his pointed ears. Behind him was Tol-Ereb, pushing his nose into the hollow at the base of his neck. Legolas turned briefly, and spoke quietly to his great red-brown steed. When he looked back, he saw to his dismay that Eruanne had mounted on her mare, and was already walking slowly away through the blowing grass.
In a swift movement, he swung himself up upon the warm back of the stallion. His hands slid themselves through the hairs of its mane. "Ahead," he whispered.
~~~~~~~
Eruanne looked back, Legolas was astride and cantering towards her. Somehow this was wrong, they were only two elves on horseback in the middle of Rivendell's lands. She had shared the pasture before with other restless elves, yet this time it was different. It had never felt like she was at war. *
*
*
*
*
* Authors Note: Her horse's name means Enchanted.