The Tale of Fëagurth
Part 8: Naughty Ideas
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=MANY WAR-FILLED DAYS LATER=
Fëaruin sat on a flat rock, watching her new friend and her half-brother nearby who would be better described as nose-and-nose rather than face-to-face, hands on their hips, yelling words of insult to one another. At last Avardelothien threw her hands up in utter disgust and left the scene, at the very same time that Legolas arrived. A deep sigh of despair and frustration escaped Fëaruin as he passed her, and stopped right beside the child, though they looked in opposite directions.
"As I am not irresponsible and can be trusted, I will watch over him," said Legolas. Fëaruin did not smile, for she did not like the tone that he had used.
"Thank you, for you are a good friend to my brother. In return for your generosity, I shall go after your sister."
"You are wearing leggings again," he suddenly noticed, turning his head. "Why do you always insist on looking so masculine, Urulókë?"
"…Because," Fëaruin began, "I was born with a fiery heart that desires to surpass most males in the arts of fighting, especially my father, who is one of the most determined and skilled warriors in Middle-Earth. I have always disagreed that women should stay under a roof and feed the children when they have the power to do much more than they realize. Thus I cannot fly with an arrow fitted as well as males could if I do not dress the way they do."
"Surpass males? I'd like to see that, red-headed fiddle-player," uttered Legolas, his eyes gleaming in challenge. Seeing this made Fëaruin narrow hers.
"What was that meant to imply, Master Elf?"
Legolas feigned surprise. "Naught," he replied, and watched as Fëaruin looked at him suspiciously before finally running off in the direction Avardelothien had passed.
Ninrusco sighed as he sat, annoyed. But Legolas neutrally sat next to him, having almost no expression and watching Ninrusco who was trying to hide a deep upset in his heart.
"I desire home," the Dúnadan said bitterly. "Maybe I should never have come here."
"If you came here, we would never have met," smiled Legolas. "I have just realized how much of a friend you've been to me since your first day here. Even with my sorrow and grief of Finlos, I… I have learnt to smile again because of you."
"Thank you," laughed Ninrusco. "Already I could not imagine going somewhere away from Mirkwood without you by my side as a responsible friend."
"An Elf and a Dúnadan? Sounds like a dangerous combination."
Ninrusco bowed his head again, allowing a shadow to form over his face. "Especially when it comes to Avardelothien and I."
Legolas touched Ninrusco's arm sympathetically. "Why is it you are so sad and bitter about your arguments with my sister when you do not even desire her? Why be so sorrowful when you loathe betrothals and your own arranged bride?"
"I'm not," Ninrusco fought. "It's just…"
Legolas stopped him and grinned. "What, do you think I do not know how you feel? I felt this way before Finlos and I were officially lovers, because she was so annoying and it was impossible to shut her mouth because the size of it was no different from a Warg's. But she was so beautiful and caring, despite her cruel wit which was quite intelligent anyway, and I ended up loving her beyond all other things in Middle-Earth. Now I am able to understand how you feel, when you yourself do not. But, my friend: I only understand a small part. What happened, I ask you again, that has given you mixed emotions like this?"
Ninrusco froze, though it did not prevent Legolas' gaze from continuing to pierce right through him. Ninrusco smiled, however, at the smile of trust the Elf was giving him, and he smiled back, sighing as he realized he could not speak untruthfully.
"I… I kissed her," he confessed in embarrassment. "I- I had no idea what came over me, but it was as though a spell bound us together, though at that time we did not even know each other's names. It was enchanting up until the moment she realized who I was and I realized who she was."
By this time, Legolas was near to running away to throw up behind the nearest bush.
"Ah, so that is why you were choking and spluttering afterwards."
"Aye, it was."
A brief silence occurred as the two sat together wordlessly, not knowing what to say. However, it was broken by the little one that sprang out of the bushes, making the hearts of Ninrusco and Legolas jump into the roof of their mouths.
"Alatamoth," Legolas tried to swallow his heart again, "You are skilled in the art of frightening people."
"Thank you," Menellómë giggled. "Ninrusco, I come bearing a message from Lady Avardelothien."
"Oh?" he responded interestedly, though it was a bitter interest.
"She says… oh wait one moment, please forgive me," she puffed in weariness, feigning shock. "I could not believe it myself, but she said that she regretted yelling at you, for the pressures of the past had forced her to defend herself thusly. And she asks forgiveness because she hated arranged marriages and though she had nothing against you she had lashed out at you due to such loath…"
"Menellómë," Ninrusco interrupted, "Do you know exactly why I don't believe you?"
Menellómë laughed fakely, in a short, wild outburst, which ceased to complete silence within only three seconds. "What, pray tell, are you talking about?"
"First of all, several days ago Avardelothien claimed to hate me for what I am and also for arranged marriages, so it would seem suspicious to me that all of a sudden with her incredibly stubborn nature she would take back what she said and send over a messenger to bring her suddenly gentle intentions," Ninrusco stated pointedly, which made Legolas burst into laughter. "Second, dear Menellómë, I still bear a memory of when you tried to match my brat of a sister up with the son of the Prince of Ithilien who was so skilled in playing the fiddle and boasted so much of his claim that he was better than her that she broke her fiddle on him."
"When was this? What happened?" Menellómë asked, puzzled.
"Last year, when he had come with his father to Minas Tirith to discuss trade?"
"Oh him!" Menellómë laughed, "The boy with arms like twigs. Yes, I remember Fëaruin and the fiddle breaking in half over is bony head. But what did I do?"
"You told her about the same thing, except without the arranged marriage part. She despised him and as a cruel joke you tried to make them come together."
"Oh," the memories flooded back to the Hobbit child. "It didn't work, eh? I guess this wouldn't work now, either, would it?"
"No, it wouldn't."
With Legolas rolling on the ground in uncontrollable laughter and Ninrusco giving her a victorious stare through narrowed eyes, Menellómë left, hoping that things with Avardelothien may work better than with the all-seeing Ninrusco.
* * * * *
Fëaruin shook Avardelothien's shoulders, trying to get a word out of the quiet Elf.
"Tell me! What did you do? It cannot honestly be that bad," Fëaruin pleaded.
"No," the Elven Princess stated firmly.
"…Will you not spare even a small hint to amuse me?"
Avardelothien sealed her lips, firmly shaking her head. "Just think of it as… we met, we greeted each other, we screamed when each knew the other's name. Nothing happened, Fëaruin! I loathe betrothals for I believe that as soon as the wedding is passed the couple suffers in a loveless marriage. If you… if you understand, Fëaruin, I may have liked Ninrusco better if we hadn't been forced into an arranged relationship- a relationship against our own will."
"Why do you care?" Fëaruin questioned.
Avardelothien was surprised at the bold-sounding remark, although she knew that the content of the question had no offence. "What do you mean?" she inquired.
"Avardelothien my friend, I would not like to be with a person I do not love so I understand what you are getting at. But I do not understand this: why do you care that this betrothal will affect your friendship with my brother when only a few days ago you said-or at least hinted- that you hated him more than anyone else you've ever known?" stated Fëaruin pointedly. "I strongly believe that the two of you are potentially friends, though the only thing keeping that back is your insincere detesting by a relationship you did not choose."
"Why would you think that?" Avardelothien retorted. "I cannot stand him for his annoying nature, and I desire not his friendship!"
Fëaruin opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off when a small form walked into the garden, where they were sitting comfortably on random tree stumps. Menellómë felt their eyes move to her as she walked into the scene, and cleared her throat nervously.
"Avardelothien, Lady of Mirkwood," she curtseyed, "I come bearing a message from Lord Ninrusco. He says…"
"Sorry, Menellómë," stated Avardelothien. "Legolas came to me in the last hour and told me about the little trick you played on Ninrusco."
Menellómë stiffened. "Lady, you will not punish me for such a deed…?"
Avardelothien only smiled. "Of course not, Menellómë, for I know you mean no intentional upset. But let this be a lesson learned; you cannot fool me so easily."
Fëaruin struggled to suppress her laughter as Menellómë walked away defeated for the second time. Deception to make one fall in love with another is not going to be easy, after all.
* * * * *
=A FEW HOURS LATER=
Avardelothien yawned bitterly as she walked into Thranduil's private garden, having bickered with Ninrusco again for the sixty-fourth time since they'd met. She was by now getting far too tired for her own good- it was almost certain that the next time she even lays her eyes on the damned young Dúnadan, her heart would force her entire body to explode in a passionate fit of anger.
Always did she find contentment in her father's garden; for it was as an oasis of solitude. A clearing it was, with several trees bordering tall and slender, and in the midst was an old stone bridge that allowed passage to the next part of the forestry. It lay over a long, deep crevasse in which grew grass and flowers that made the dry stream bed seen less menacing. It was where most of her bitter past encounters with the company of Gondor had taken place, but even so the land was like treasure to her, her secret Heaven on Earth.
Seeing Menellómë seated on a tree branch, she smiled quickly and hastened her steps, finally taking her place leaning against the same tree. The branch on which Menellómë sat was to her left and above her golden-brown head, and so she had to look up at the small Hobbit who was grinning back down at her.
"Let me guess…" Menellómë drawled, intentionally leaving the remark unfinished. The Elven Princess smiled sarcastically at her unbeknownst niece.
"Oh, very funny," she stated. "I cannot stand that child! I feel so upset by the decision such a wise one as my father could make for me to bond with such an immature, irritating child!"
"He is not a child. He is a young Man, Lady."
"You may call me by my name, you know," Avardelothien interrupted. "And yes, he is a child! By age of the Dúnedain he is entering adulthood I know, but in nature his maturity does not exceed that of a two-year-old boy's. I wish he would be more like my brother. And you know, I see him taking such a strange liking to you, Menellómë… You have become so close to him in such a period of time. Usually even he does not gain friendship that quickly…"
At that very moment, Ninrusco happened to walk by, searching for his now reasonably close friend Legolas. However, as soon as his foot stepped into Thranduil's glade, his eyes passed across Menellómë on a nearby tree branch, talking softly to Avardelothien who was leaning against its trunk. Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, he ducked behind a nearby shrub, ears alert as a bat's.
"He is a gentleman all the same," he heard Avardelothien say. "Well I admit he was acting a little strange towards the whole betrothal issue, and he would often tell me what to do, which annoyed me. But I hope now he is all right with all the arguments which I hope will soon die down…"
No, I'm not all right with it. I loathe you and I desire leave, Ninrusco thought, not realizing she was speaking of Legolas.
"Yes. I hope that he would give you proper support and not boss you around, when he has potential of being a close friend and brother to you. That is, if he is not always engrossed in his own thoughts."
"Even so," Avardelothien smiled softly, "I do not care. It will one day melt away in his mind, whatever it is, and be the good companion you say he has potential of converting into. And for that I will always love him."
Ninrusco froze. She loves me, he thought. How Avardelothien managed to notice he was distressed and always engrossed in thinking of the outcome of the betrothal was beyond his understanding. It was a surprise she even noticed him at all. But all he could really think of was… she loves me. The same three words began to repeat itself in his mind before he crept away from the bushes, trying to decide what to do.
* * * * *
A few hours later, Avardelothien calmly beheld the stars, standing on the dirt path in Mirkwood. Ninrusco, off his guard, was only a short distance away. Yet they did not see each other, for both were engrossed in their own thoughts; Avardelothien was devising a way to strangle Ninrusco without fail, whilst Ninrusco was musing upon that which he'd heard Avardelothien say earlier.
When Avardelothien heard footsteps behind her, she immediately scrambled off the path and dove behind a rock, fearing it was the pest of a Dúnadan that was slender fox in her own tongue. However, her fears were unfortunately true. Immediately was her fist clenched when she saw the miserable nuisance walk by her, and so deep in her anger was she that she hardly noticed the helpless, solemn expression upon his face.
"Why so sorrowful?" A voice said.
Ninrusco smiled and looked up towards a tree branch, off which Menellómë suddenly jumped, raising Avardelothien's heart into her throat. Menellómë merely took a pitiful look at Ninrusco, and he held out his arms, needing comfort in an embrace.
"Many thoughts are stirring in my mind, Menellómë," Ninrusco sighed. Menellómë smirked.
"Of the betrothal?" she squeezed him, before releasing him from the hug. "Remember what your mother and father, Crown Princess Ellasil and Crown Prince Eärnur, said. If you are unhappy then let us send a messenger to Gondor to inform them firmly. You should take advantage of something whilst the opportunity is there, friend."
"No… it is not that, Menellómë," Ninrusco uttered slowly. This made Menellómë raise her eyebrows interestedly.
"Then what could it be?" she grinned suggestively.
Ninrusco stiffened, making Avardelothien- who was watching from behind the large rock- even more curious. "I… I don't know what my feelings are," he confessed. In a way I have never felt about anyone the way I feel about Avardelothien before. I say to myself that I loathe her, yet on the day we met we were spellbound, and it was as though… a wonderful and pleasant magical power had brought us together. Oh, I do not know. Maybe I am in love with her…"
The words hit the Elf-Princess like a stone brick. Ninrusco loved her? Considering how their past encounters had been, anyone would have thought that the Dúnadan was plotting to sneak up on her and smite her with a mace.
"You do?" Menellómë beamed, hope shining in her eyes.
Ninrusco nodded. "But I cannot… it is not something I can easily confess, not even to myself. The shame of loving someone who will not admit any feelings for me, whether she has any or not, is great. I think it is best if I just go home to Gondor, forget about all this, and be glad that if she despised me at least I had not truly found out for myself. Although, if I return to Minas Tirith, I will miss Legolas very much…"
Ninrusco turned and walked away, leaving a stunned Menellómë and Avardelothien behind, though there was a moderate difference between the actions of the two maidens. Menellómë left straight after Ninrusco was out of sight, afterwards striding in the opposite direction. But Avardelothien stayed behind the rock for several hours in silence, hugging her knees; for confusion, surprise, love and helplessness stirred within her. But even so one thing was for sure; the loath warred inside of her no more.
* * * * *
"Hey, you are wearing a gown again!" Avardelothien laughed. Fëaruin raised a dark eyebrow.
"Avardelothien, unless you forgot, I am female. Even though I desire to be successful in valiant terms and wish to surpass at least my hot-blooded father, it does not mean that I also dress the way they do when I am not having my training sessions."
"So you do have a feminine side, hmm?"
"You enjoy teasing me, don't you?" Fëaruin smirked as Ninrusco came into the hallway after turning a corner.
Immediately he stiffened, flushed and turned his face away, avoiding the Elven Princess' gaze. Fëaruin sneered interestedly at the reaction, touching her brother's arm as she passed him upon leaving.
Ninrusco did not like what she was implying, whatever it may be, but he went forth anyway and this time forced himself to look into Avardelothien's radiant eyes. Such confusion shone in the brilliant blue, and they both openly stared for a few moments, a bright blush spreading quickly across their cheeks. This is the slender fox of Gondor, who Avardelothien suddenly realized was more handsome than she had thought before. More incredibly, he was her slender fox, reserved for her heart. The thought stirred within her as something hardly believable, a true blessing of love that she should fulfil while she had the chance.
"Ninrusco, I heard what you said," Avardelothien stated finally, breaking the silence.
Ninrusco stared in confusion. "What… what do you mean?"
"When you spoke to Menellómë," Avardelothien uttered softly, reaching up a smooth hand to caress his face. "When you said that maybe… maybe you loved me."
Ninrusco froze, white as a sheet. He instantly became so embarrassed… Fëanna had heard him? However, she understood his discomfort and with her friendly eyes assured him not to worry, that what she was about to say would not be said with words of hatred.
"This… this is beyond belief," she wept in relief. "I was right in my first judgement, before I knew your name. The handsome boy I kissed would be the one for me, my beloved. What blessing has brought to hear you at the very moment those feelings were released from within you? I am not cursed you are my betrothed… I am indeed blessed."
Ninrusco smiled, reaching up a hand to hold hers. "To be truthful, I fell for you because I heard you speak to Menellómë as well…" he confessed dreamily, kissing the pale hand that had caressed his face in comfort. "I heard you telling Menellómë that you loved me also..."
Avardelothien was leaning into the touch, but suddenly something in her head snapped. "What? I never confessed I had feelings for you until just now."
Ninrusco released the hand, completely puzzled. "But I heard you say so. I heard you say I was a gentleman, that I had potential of being to you a friend and brother, and that you loved me. I fell in love with you immediately at hearing those words, and I am so sure, it was no dream!"
"Gentleman? But I was speaking of Legolas…"
Suddenly, insult and anger blazed in their eyes as the realization struck them both. "…MENELLÓMË!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
To be continued…