icy878 HAH! Now you know that she's evil.. dundundun! Well, I suppose she isn't really evil (I mean, it is Mary Sue, ya know? How can she be?) ... yet! Trust me... it gets worse... mwahahah!
Lilena lol! Oh my gosh... Random slapping incident- codename: rsi! Lol! Ahh that is such a good idea.. but I think the elves will get a little freaked out if someone just walks out of the forest, slaps a certain elf prince, and wanders back in... but I'll figure out some way to work it in...
Melissa don't worry- she will... ;) mwahaha!
aquitaineq lol- not like I would abandon it! Evil Mary Sue Princess... let's see where this goes... mwahaha!
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"Wake up, Canyaiel!" My eyes flutter open. I am still in the green bedroom, but I do not bother to study it and pull the silk, green blanket over my head.
"Leave me alone, you imprudent elf!" I mutter back in the darkness and comfort of the blanket. Suddenly it feels very cold and I realize that Calwaiel has pulled the blanket from me.
I curse quietly under my breath but Calwaiel does not seem to care- or she does and she is ignoring me, "Get dressed and clean yourself up."
"Yes, yes," I grumble, taking off my dress and flinging the dresser open. I take a dress out and put it on, not even looking at it. I pick up a comb from the table and comb my hair quickly. I sit down on a green velvet, plump, little stool and run my fingers over the mahogany wood.
It is a very beautiful room. The walls are a light, spring green and the ceiling is dark, the color of a forest at night with only the stars to light the tips of the trees, and the floor is marble of the same color, with pale streaks of rivers running through it.
Every piece of furniture in the room is mahogany- the enormous dresser, big enough for at least a hundred dresses and on the inside lined with gold crushed velvet; the full-sized mirror; the desk, with five drawers, all lined with emerald satin; the bed, covered in silk blankets and pillows, all the color of grass on a warm summer's day; and the stool. There is a brisk knock on the door.
"Come in," I sigh, almost lazily, not even looking up as I study the gentle, graceful carvings of the stool.
My sister clears her throat, "Lord Elrond will be here in just a moment."
In an instant I jump up and snatch one of the beautiful, lace-lined pillows from the bed and throw it toward the door, also mahogany, but instead of Calwaiel, it is Lord Elrond who is standing there and the pillow hits him right in the face.
I feel my cheeks heat and rise and I glance sideways at the mirror and see that my cheeks are the color of a rose that has just bloomed, "I beg your forgiveness, my Lord."
He just smiles, "It is all right, Lady Canyaiel. Something of this matter I would almost expect from you." I try to smile back, still scarlet in the cheeks. "Now, on to matters and such of which I was asked to come and tend. I have asked Princess Annacálë to help," he moves aside and Princess Annacálë comes inside, in all of her splendid splendor, holding a silver tray full of glass bottles of varying colors and size among silver instruments.
Of course, gorgeous, altruistic, noble, breathtaking, faultless Princess Annacálë would take time from her demanding life to help unfortunate, powerless, awkward, foolish Maiden Canyaiel.
"What has happened?" Lord Elrond asks, picking up my wrist.
I would tell him, but Annacálë is there, so I hold my tongue. "I..." My mind races about, trying to think of something believable. I cleared my throat, "Elrohir and I were playing," I lie. I feel quite bad for lying to Lord Elrond- my Lord, but I do not know Annacálë, nor do I know what she will do so I leave it at that. Lord Elrond suspects something, I can see it in his eyes- which flickered a little when I lied to him, but he does not say anything.
Annacálë shrugs almost as if to say 'she is delusional, deprived and unfortunate Maiden Canyaiel' and hands Lord Elrond assorted bottles and instruments. After a few moments, Lord Elrond wraps my wrist with a long, white strip of fabric.
"It should heal nicely in a few days," he sighs, kneeling on the ground, "I apologize on behalf on my son."
I peel my eyes away from Annacálë, who was smiling knowingly and staring at me with her gold eyes, her laughing, mocking, wicked gold eyes, "Think nothing of it, my Lord."
He waves a hand carelessly, "Thank you," he says softly as Annacálë walks out of the room. As soon as she is out of the room he looks at me, "I know you lied to me-"
"Please, my Lord, begging-"
"Yet," he holds up one of his long, slender hands, the very hands that would heal me, "I ask not for the truth," he stands up, "I have known you your whole life, Lady Canyaiel, and I know you will do the right thing." He walks out of the room swiftly, royal-looking robes swishing as he leaves.
"Lord Elrond, what is the right thing?" I whisper after his retreating back and I know he can hear me, but he does not answer. I sigh in defeat and notice a modest, gold colored, glass bottle, filled with a thick liquid. Perfect Annacálë must have forgotten something.
Placing it in a hidden pocket, I walk down the large wooden stairs toward the kitchen, where my sister has set something on fire. I hear her curse under her breath.
I sigh, "Allow me." She does, gladly. There is only one thing in which my skill exceeds hers and that is cooking. I quickly prepare a little meal and give my thanks to her before walking outside toward the gardens.
'The right thing,' Lord Elrond had said. What is the right thing? I stumble over a rock and curse softly.
"Well, Canyaiel, out from hiding? So soon?" Elladan sighs, scornfully. He walks up to me, his long dark hair flying into my eyes, "Why did you even bother coming back?" I continue walking, trying to ignore him and the tears that cruelly sting my eyes.
It is true, Elladan had been my lesser favorite of the twins, but I still have known him for all my life and I had always been able to depend on him. Now I was not so sure.
"Are you scared to say something? Are you scared? Courageous Canyaiel, valiant Canyaiel- are you the same maiden who killed orcs?" he mocks, "How much did it cost you to bribe the others to say that you did something worthwhile?"
I start walking faster, trying to ignore him, "Why are you doing this?"
He scoffs, walking even faster and keeping up with me easily, "I know it was you. You threw something at Princess Annacálë to try and kill her-" I stop immediately. "-Luckily she is stronger than that." I look straight into his eyes; scorching, enraged flames replace the warm, salty tears.
"Are you accusing me of Kinslaying?" I ask, moving closer to him and swallowing the lump in my throat that was all of my misery, replacing it with the aridity of rage. He does not respond, but just starts to walk backwards slowly, fearing me and what I will do- I grow stronger on his worthless fright. My eyes narrow into slits of fury, "Well? Are you?" He leans in and for an ephemeral fraction of a moment, I want to back away from him, but I will not give in.
"I am sorry for accusing you, but that is all I am sorry for," he says before sauntering off. I turn in the opposite direction and walk into the gardens, which are right by the palace and contain my favorite tree.
I walk toward the old willow tree and gently pull aside the branches, which are bejeweled with little pink flowers, like a curtain and sit on the soft grass underneath it. The curtain of flowers opens after I had been sitting there for just a moment.
"Hello," Annacálë says softly, "I hope I am not interrupting anything?" I shake my head 'no' and she sits down next to me, as if she is my closest friend- as if she is Arwen.
I do not answer her question. Instead I pull out the little gold bottle she left in my sister's home, "This is yours." I hand it to her.
She smiles, "Thank you." She clears her throat and I glance sideways at her, but ignore her otherwise, "What really happened to your wrist?" she asks, her eyes glittering a pale green with orange glints.
I stand up, "Elrohir and I were having a contest," I lie. It is much easier to lie to her. "Thank you for everything." I turn around-
"Wait!" she pauses a moment as I turn around to glance at her, her now bright, eager blue eyes smiling up at me, "I thought, maybe, we could become friends?"
Somehow, I could not bring myself to say no. "Maybe." I know it will never happen. I give her a large, fake smile before walking outside.
I wonder how she can be like that. She makes my closest friend hate me- well, my closest friend in Aman. She makes his twin hate me. She makes... Legolas hate me. She makes Lord Elrond distrust me. And now, she wants to become my friend? Was there anyone left who does not hate me and who I could trust speaking to? My thoughts immediately fly to Lady Celebrían and I start walking feverishly toward the palace.
After all, they said so themselves. 'Lady Celebrían is far too fond of that ridiculous maiden.'
