A/N: Ok, I'm diverging from Tolkien's version of Middle Earth a great deal
on this one with regards to the Elves and their culture and practices, but
this is a fanfic and not meant to be a photocopy of LOTR. I think the
divergence makes a lot of sense and it works with where I wanted the story
to go. Ok, that said, this is another jump/leap trying to get closer to
the real story - yes there is a real story! I've got a real chapter by
chapter story to get to but I couldn't just let everyone drop right into
the middle not knowing the characters, who they are and how they got to
that place in their lives. You'll notice that I've progressed things quite
a bit from the Stars, Snow, and Singing chapter. I suppose this is kind of
a songfic, I've included the entire lyrics for Lorenna McKennitt's Lady of
Shallott because it works for the scene. Tinuviel is starting to realize
that there is something not quite right going on with her, but she's not
ready to talk to anyone about it yet and she's got some fear issues going
on. As always, thanks to my beta LadyArien.
SINGING FALLS
The woman now known by the elvish name of Tinuviel watched the water crashing over the rocks below the falls. It seemed to her that the water sang out as it shifted and flowed over the rocks worn smooth from ages of rushing water. But even in this place of beauty and light a shadow fell over her soul. Dreams had begun to plague her. At first she believed them to be nothing more than nightmares, but they began to gain form and substance and an emerging pattern that she could not be certain was only a product of her imagination. Looking glasses, even still water, seemed to be gaining a life of their own, reflecting images that mirrored not her face but her dreams. It frightened her, but she could not bring herself to talk of it. Not even Legolas. Only here at the singing falls did she feel truly at peace.
Taking a deep breath, she sighed. The water called to her to join her voice with its own. Moved, she lifted her voice in a song that reflected the two things weighing most heavily on her heart. The language and words were strange to this land, but flowed from her so freely she had no doubt they were her own native tongue. There was no music on hand, no harp, flute, or drum, but she could feel the melody within herself.
On either side of the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the world and meet the sky;
And thro' the field the road run by
To many-towered Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.
Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Thro' the wave that runs forever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four gray walls, and four gray towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle embowers
The Lady of Shalott.
Only reapers, reaping early,
In among the bearded barley
Hear a song that echoes cheerily
From the river winding clearly
Down to tower'd Camelot;
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers "'tis the fairy
The Lady of Shalott."
There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay,
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.
And moving through a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot;
And sometimes thro' the mirror blue
The Knights come riding two and two.
She hath no loyal Knight and true,
The Lady Of Shalott.
But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often thro' the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Camelot;
Or when the Moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed.
"I am half sick of shadows," said
The Lady Of Shalott.
A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley sheaves,
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.
His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode back to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
he flashed into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra Lirra," by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.
She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces taro' the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She looked down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror cracked from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.
In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining.
Heavily the low sky raining
Over towered Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And round about the prow she wrote
The Lady of Shalott
And down the river's dim expanse
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance -
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.
Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turn'd to towered Camelot.
For ere she reach'd upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.
Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses high,
Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and Burgher, Lord and Dame,
And round the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.
Who is this? And what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they crossed themselves for fear,
All the Knights at Camelot;
But Lancelot mused a little space
He said, "She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott."
When she'd finished, she realized she felt drying tears staining her face and reached up with a hand to wipe them away.
"Why do you sing of things make you weep?" The tongue was wholly alien to the song she had been singing, but it was so beautiful that she ached to rush back to her room and translate the words of the song so that all could understand them.
Turning around quickly, she saw the tall elf standing at the base of the small mound of rocks on which she sat. The low voice had startled her because she had been so deeply entranced by her own song. In the time she had been at Rivendell, she had grown accustomed to the ways of the elves and was very rarely caught unawares. She smiled down at him. "I don't know. I felt like singing and this is the song that came to me."
Legolas, dressed in brown and green as was customary among his people, with his long, blonde hair streaming about his shoulders and pulled back from his face with small braids on either side of his slightly pointed ears, mounted the fell of rocks and swiftly climbed them as if gravity had been suspended for him alone. It was wondrous to watch the movements of the elves, so graceful and fluid as if they were illusions of water and air. But it was particularly pleasing to her to watch the archer as he moved up the boulders and came to rest on the small outcropping of grass on which she sat, folding himself down to sit next to her, his long legs reaching out toward the falling water. "What was the song about?"
Tinuviel, as he had named her, shrugged and, drawing her legs up, rested her chin thoughtfully on her raised knees, hugging her legs as she studied the rainbow. "The song is about a woman who could only watch life and could never live it. She was immortal as long as she remained in her island but she could only view life through her windows and the magical mirror that would show her wonderful images of life and love.
Her island was in the midst of the river that flowed to one of the most beautiful of cities, Camelot, but all she could see from her windows was vast fields of grain that went on forever. She lived in a fortress of gray walls, with towers on each of the four corners. It was a foreboding place, but inside there was a beautiful garden and in her room was a loom and the magical mirror showed her the fantastic, colorful whirl of life within the walls of Camelot itself. She wove what she saw through her mirror into a beautiful tapestry. Still, she watched for so long that she began to wish desperately to truly live and to have someone to love.
There was a curse that had been foretold, but she did not know what it was. Her mirror continued to show her images of life and love and one day showed her a man that was beautiful to behold. He was everything the woman ever wished for and she fell instantly in love. Soon she became restless within her walls and the mirror continued to entice her, whispering to her to leave her bower and go to the man, else she invoke the curse.
So she left her protected towers and ventured out into the world. She knew as soon as she had stepped out, however, that the mirror had lied to her and that she would not have the chance to fulfill her love because she had invoked the curse and began to die.
Resigned to her fate, she left her island and sailed off down the river to Camelot, she wrote her name on the prow of the boat, so that they would know her. So that, perhaps, someone would grieve her passing. But when she passed to Camelot all the lords and ladies saw was death, and they feared her. All except for Lancelot, the man she had fallen in love with, who sent up a prayer in her name. The moral being that mirrors do not always tell the truth, and love is not always worth giving your life for."
Tinuviel glanced back over her shoulder and saw that Legolas was also now studying the waterfall. The muscle in his jaw twitched almost imperceptibly and his dark blue, normally warm eyes, were cold. She had angered him. It did not surprise her, but it saddened her. Sighing, she sat back once more against the rock face and let the coolness of the rock seep through her garment and the flesh of her back.
"Now I understand why you chose the song, but not why it brings you to tears. How convenient that you have remembered it now." He turned back to her, anger still flashing cold in his eyes. "If you do not wish to marry me you need only to have told me plainly. There was no need to construct such a story." He started to stand, but she stilled him with a small hand.
"Legolas, I told you the truth. That is the story of the song. I was crying for many reasons that I just cannot put into words, and part of it was because of your proposal yestereve, but not the way that you think." Since he seemed reluctant to look at her, she moved into his line of sight, kneeling before him so that he had no choice but to look at her. "You don't understand. I want to be your wife more than anything in this world, but I will not allow you to forsake your immortal life for me."
His jaw was set, but the coldness, at least, left his eyes. "It is my life and if I choose to become mortal to be with the woman I love then so be it."
She shook her head vehemently and she could feel tears welling in her eyes. "No! No, I won't let you sacrifice your life for me. I'll leave Rivendell and go off into the world alone before I let you do that."
"You would surely die," he said, matter of factly. "You say you want more than anything in the world to be my wife, but you know this is the only way. My father will never consent to the marriage and as long as he is king and I am heir to his throne, I have no choice but to obey him."
"I do, honestly I do. But we don't even know my true name or who I was before you found me. What if once I regain my memory you find that I was not worthy of such a gift? Or perhaps I am married already and it will all have been for naught."
He studied her face for a few moments and could see the fear behind her eyes, as well as something else. A desperate longing, perhaps? For him as she said? He could feel the anger diminishing as he reached out for her, smiling as she willingly folded herself into his embrace. "I have lived a long life, but you are the first woman to have stirred my heart so that it beats hard enough to be heard whenever I gaze on your face or hear your voice." He stroked the long, silken softness of her dark hair and felt himself begin to stir. "And I feel the need for you with a pain that does not diminish."
Tinuviel brushed her cheek against his as she sat back to look at him. There was an earnest, almost pleading look on her face. "You need not marry me to end the pain, if by marriage you must lose your life. I would give myself to you willingly and freely and with joy in my heart for I ache with the want of you." She took both his hands and placed them over her breasts.
He caressed her breasts gently through the soft fabric of her dress before skimming his long fingered hands over her ribs and down to cup her hips, his gaze never leaving hers but burning into her soul until she could feel the moist heat pooling between her thighs. "I will not ask that of you, to throw away your honor."
"Better my honor than your life! And it will not be thrown away but given freely to you. I trust you with it." She lay her hand on his cheek and caressed the smooth skin.
"I do not trust myself with it," he said in a low voice.
"Then if you would not have me outside of a marriage bed I would bind myself to you as your bond-wife for as long as you would have me, and your father could not interfere."
"I cannot ask that of you, it is not the way of men. What if when you regain your memory you regret your choice?" He shook his head. "I cannot ask that of you."
She pressed her hands to his chest. "I could never regret loving you, Legolas, and I hope I would not give you cause to regret loving me."
Time passed as they sat there, looking into each other's eyes, into each other's souls. Each willing the other to concede. Finally Legolas sighed heavily for he knew he could not sway her. "It grows dark. Let us both think on this thing tomorrow, when our heads are clearer. Perhaps we can find our way."
"I will feel no differently tomorrow," she said with conviction. Standing, she turned her back to him and made her way slowly down the rocks. She stopped at the bottom and looked back to see him still sitting there. "Call it stubbornness if you wish, but I will not see you throw your life away. But think on this, I will offer you a compromise. If after one year of being bonded with me you still wish to marry, and if your father will not give you leave to do so," she took a deep breath, "then I will marry you on your terms." She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. "And think on this during this long night. Should you decide to join me in my bed I will welcome you with open arms for I love you. Now if you still believe we cannot be together, it will be because of your stubbornness and not mine nor your father's." With that she turned and left him alone with the water.
SINGING FALLS
The woman now known by the elvish name of Tinuviel watched the water crashing over the rocks below the falls. It seemed to her that the water sang out as it shifted and flowed over the rocks worn smooth from ages of rushing water. But even in this place of beauty and light a shadow fell over her soul. Dreams had begun to plague her. At first she believed them to be nothing more than nightmares, but they began to gain form and substance and an emerging pattern that she could not be certain was only a product of her imagination. Looking glasses, even still water, seemed to be gaining a life of their own, reflecting images that mirrored not her face but her dreams. It frightened her, but she could not bring herself to talk of it. Not even Legolas. Only here at the singing falls did she feel truly at peace.
Taking a deep breath, she sighed. The water called to her to join her voice with its own. Moved, she lifted her voice in a song that reflected the two things weighing most heavily on her heart. The language and words were strange to this land, but flowed from her so freely she had no doubt they were her own native tongue. There was no music on hand, no harp, flute, or drum, but she could feel the melody within herself.
On either side of the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the world and meet the sky;
And thro' the field the road run by
To many-towered Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.
Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Thro' the wave that runs forever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four gray walls, and four gray towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle embowers
The Lady of Shalott.
Only reapers, reaping early,
In among the bearded barley
Hear a song that echoes cheerily
From the river winding clearly
Down to tower'd Camelot;
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers "'tis the fairy
The Lady of Shalott."
There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay,
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.
And moving through a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot;
And sometimes thro' the mirror blue
The Knights come riding two and two.
She hath no loyal Knight and true,
The Lady Of Shalott.
But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often thro' the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Camelot;
Or when the Moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed.
"I am half sick of shadows," said
The Lady Of Shalott.
A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley sheaves,
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.
His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode back to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
he flashed into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra Lirra," by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.
She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces taro' the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She looked down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror cracked from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.
In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining.
Heavily the low sky raining
Over towered Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And round about the prow she wrote
The Lady of Shalott
And down the river's dim expanse
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance -
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.
Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turn'd to towered Camelot.
For ere she reach'd upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.
Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses high,
Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and Burgher, Lord and Dame,
And round the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.
Who is this? And what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they crossed themselves for fear,
All the Knights at Camelot;
But Lancelot mused a little space
He said, "She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott."
When she'd finished, she realized she felt drying tears staining her face and reached up with a hand to wipe them away.
"Why do you sing of things make you weep?" The tongue was wholly alien to the song she had been singing, but it was so beautiful that she ached to rush back to her room and translate the words of the song so that all could understand them.
Turning around quickly, she saw the tall elf standing at the base of the small mound of rocks on which she sat. The low voice had startled her because she had been so deeply entranced by her own song. In the time she had been at Rivendell, she had grown accustomed to the ways of the elves and was very rarely caught unawares. She smiled down at him. "I don't know. I felt like singing and this is the song that came to me."
Legolas, dressed in brown and green as was customary among his people, with his long, blonde hair streaming about his shoulders and pulled back from his face with small braids on either side of his slightly pointed ears, mounted the fell of rocks and swiftly climbed them as if gravity had been suspended for him alone. It was wondrous to watch the movements of the elves, so graceful and fluid as if they were illusions of water and air. But it was particularly pleasing to her to watch the archer as he moved up the boulders and came to rest on the small outcropping of grass on which she sat, folding himself down to sit next to her, his long legs reaching out toward the falling water. "What was the song about?"
Tinuviel, as he had named her, shrugged and, drawing her legs up, rested her chin thoughtfully on her raised knees, hugging her legs as she studied the rainbow. "The song is about a woman who could only watch life and could never live it. She was immortal as long as she remained in her island but she could only view life through her windows and the magical mirror that would show her wonderful images of life and love.
Her island was in the midst of the river that flowed to one of the most beautiful of cities, Camelot, but all she could see from her windows was vast fields of grain that went on forever. She lived in a fortress of gray walls, with towers on each of the four corners. It was a foreboding place, but inside there was a beautiful garden and in her room was a loom and the magical mirror showed her the fantastic, colorful whirl of life within the walls of Camelot itself. She wove what she saw through her mirror into a beautiful tapestry. Still, she watched for so long that she began to wish desperately to truly live and to have someone to love.
There was a curse that had been foretold, but she did not know what it was. Her mirror continued to show her images of life and love and one day showed her a man that was beautiful to behold. He was everything the woman ever wished for and she fell instantly in love. Soon she became restless within her walls and the mirror continued to entice her, whispering to her to leave her bower and go to the man, else she invoke the curse.
So she left her protected towers and ventured out into the world. She knew as soon as she had stepped out, however, that the mirror had lied to her and that she would not have the chance to fulfill her love because she had invoked the curse and began to die.
Resigned to her fate, she left her island and sailed off down the river to Camelot, she wrote her name on the prow of the boat, so that they would know her. So that, perhaps, someone would grieve her passing. But when she passed to Camelot all the lords and ladies saw was death, and they feared her. All except for Lancelot, the man she had fallen in love with, who sent up a prayer in her name. The moral being that mirrors do not always tell the truth, and love is not always worth giving your life for."
Tinuviel glanced back over her shoulder and saw that Legolas was also now studying the waterfall. The muscle in his jaw twitched almost imperceptibly and his dark blue, normally warm eyes, were cold. She had angered him. It did not surprise her, but it saddened her. Sighing, she sat back once more against the rock face and let the coolness of the rock seep through her garment and the flesh of her back.
"Now I understand why you chose the song, but not why it brings you to tears. How convenient that you have remembered it now." He turned back to her, anger still flashing cold in his eyes. "If you do not wish to marry me you need only to have told me plainly. There was no need to construct such a story." He started to stand, but she stilled him with a small hand.
"Legolas, I told you the truth. That is the story of the song. I was crying for many reasons that I just cannot put into words, and part of it was because of your proposal yestereve, but not the way that you think." Since he seemed reluctant to look at her, she moved into his line of sight, kneeling before him so that he had no choice but to look at her. "You don't understand. I want to be your wife more than anything in this world, but I will not allow you to forsake your immortal life for me."
His jaw was set, but the coldness, at least, left his eyes. "It is my life and if I choose to become mortal to be with the woman I love then so be it."
She shook her head vehemently and she could feel tears welling in her eyes. "No! No, I won't let you sacrifice your life for me. I'll leave Rivendell and go off into the world alone before I let you do that."
"You would surely die," he said, matter of factly. "You say you want more than anything in the world to be my wife, but you know this is the only way. My father will never consent to the marriage and as long as he is king and I am heir to his throne, I have no choice but to obey him."
"I do, honestly I do. But we don't even know my true name or who I was before you found me. What if once I regain my memory you find that I was not worthy of such a gift? Or perhaps I am married already and it will all have been for naught."
He studied her face for a few moments and could see the fear behind her eyes, as well as something else. A desperate longing, perhaps? For him as she said? He could feel the anger diminishing as he reached out for her, smiling as she willingly folded herself into his embrace. "I have lived a long life, but you are the first woman to have stirred my heart so that it beats hard enough to be heard whenever I gaze on your face or hear your voice." He stroked the long, silken softness of her dark hair and felt himself begin to stir. "And I feel the need for you with a pain that does not diminish."
Tinuviel brushed her cheek against his as she sat back to look at him. There was an earnest, almost pleading look on her face. "You need not marry me to end the pain, if by marriage you must lose your life. I would give myself to you willingly and freely and with joy in my heart for I ache with the want of you." She took both his hands and placed them over her breasts.
He caressed her breasts gently through the soft fabric of her dress before skimming his long fingered hands over her ribs and down to cup her hips, his gaze never leaving hers but burning into her soul until she could feel the moist heat pooling between her thighs. "I will not ask that of you, to throw away your honor."
"Better my honor than your life! And it will not be thrown away but given freely to you. I trust you with it." She lay her hand on his cheek and caressed the smooth skin.
"I do not trust myself with it," he said in a low voice.
"Then if you would not have me outside of a marriage bed I would bind myself to you as your bond-wife for as long as you would have me, and your father could not interfere."
"I cannot ask that of you, it is not the way of men. What if when you regain your memory you regret your choice?" He shook his head. "I cannot ask that of you."
She pressed her hands to his chest. "I could never regret loving you, Legolas, and I hope I would not give you cause to regret loving me."
Time passed as they sat there, looking into each other's eyes, into each other's souls. Each willing the other to concede. Finally Legolas sighed heavily for he knew he could not sway her. "It grows dark. Let us both think on this thing tomorrow, when our heads are clearer. Perhaps we can find our way."
"I will feel no differently tomorrow," she said with conviction. Standing, she turned her back to him and made her way slowly down the rocks. She stopped at the bottom and looked back to see him still sitting there. "Call it stubbornness if you wish, but I will not see you throw your life away. But think on this, I will offer you a compromise. If after one year of being bonded with me you still wish to marry, and if your father will not give you leave to do so," she took a deep breath, "then I will marry you on your terms." She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. "And think on this during this long night. Should you decide to join me in my bed I will welcome you with open arms for I love you. Now if you still believe we cannot be together, it will be because of your stubbornness and not mine nor your father's." With that she turned and left him alone with the water.
