An Elven
Tale
Disclaimer and warning: general disclaimer/warning comply, please refer to chapter 1 [prologue]
Author's note: Excuse my horrible elvish please! They're just bits and pieces put together from different words, very – unreliable.
~*
"…" – Speech
This – Thoughts
Chapter 1: Of the prince and the letter
*
A grey cloud rolled over the moon, blocking all that was of the bright crescent light. The occasional twinkles of the stars were the only source of radiance that shone in the darkness of the Mirkwood realm. A candle beam flickered dangerously in the light breeze that rippled through the silence of the night, threatening to die out. Once… twice… and trice…
The elf of which stood behind the glow of the candles was hidden beneath a long cloaked hood, a part of his fair face illuminated by the wavering blaze. Traces of his long, silvery-blonde locks fell from his shoulders, amazingly long.
Once…
As though answering his wishes, the breeze raged stronger.
Twice…
The wind was ghastly now, the leaves rustled against each other in rambling whispers. The candle flame was waning.
Trice…
The candle lights died to complete silence; even the wind stopped its horrific blows. The clouds hovered above in the sky, concealing even the glimmers of the stars. All was dark, silent.
The elf allowed himself the slightest of grins. He turned abruptly and raced down the garden trails, soundless and graceful, the gift of the first-borns. Glimpse of his golden hair glistened in the shadows that surrounded him, and the strong aura he possessed shone faintly in the dark, hidden by the cloak.
He followed the familiar route to the stables, wherein he found his steed – the beauty of horses, Aenil. She was bare of back, gleaming white.
"Mín glenno hé lύ, Ifant mellon-nin [we leave this hour, my old friend]," He spoke fondly, gently stroking his stallion's mane, his voice ever so soft. "Laum echedi-baw, min eglechio sidth [make no sound, we must depart in peace]."
The horse blinked its understanding, and the reassured elf mounted. For almost the 3000 years of his existence, he lived the normal elven life of archery, hunting and swords play. Though he was mature, or even elderly in sense of mortal years, he was but a princeling, the youngest of the Mirkwood royalties, and for that he was well-protected. He had rarely left the realms of Mirkwood where his kin dwelt, yet his heart longed to see the world beyond his beloved home. He knew the time of the elves were over, and soon he and his people would set sail across the sea to the west: he had heard the songs of joy. And no matter how his heart sings to him of desire in the west, he had to explore the beauty of Middle Earth. Had to.
He turned his steed before the forest would obscure from him the last details of his home, and upon the horseback he watched for a few slight minutes the faint outline of the Mirkwood House. He had no idea when he will be back, nor in which manner he shall return. But somehow in his heart he knew he had made the right choice, that he was out to find not only adventures, also his destiny.
His fate.
He pulled the reins of Aenil, unhesitant. Without another backward glance, he rode away into the night…
Away…
*
The sun was rising behind the mountains, casting a golden hue over all life form of Middle Earth. The Mirkwood elf was bathed in the first sunrays. The hood had fallen during his fierce ride, and revealed to the blooming world of his fair face, which was illuminated in a vision to behold: of beauty and grace. He halted his horse for the second time since their nights' travel to look back in the direction of his homeland, knowing well that a search party must be fast under-way. He had written a letter of explanation, but somehow he doubted it would sooth the worries of his father and brothers.
"Díheno-min [Forgive me]." He whispered to pure nothingness.
He was well beyond the borders of his people, for he had ridden upon Aenil in the fastest speed during the dead night, only occasionally risking a light gallop. He had no idea where his destination lays… his intuition and adventurous soul were the only sources driving him on.
His gaze turned to the road ahead of him, wonder and amazement in his eyes.
Freedom…
The savor of independence was sweet-tasting upon his lips, almost too good to be true.
Is this real?
Out of the corner of his eyes he caught sight a slight ruffles in the sky – a bird perhaps, yet it looked helpless in the battle of flight. The sun was streaming at him in the direction of the 'bird', and thus his keen elven eyes could not confirm his sighting.
An injured bird?
The first-borns had an unusual attachment towards nature, the woodland elves especially so. Thus he turned Aenil so she trotted instead towards the direction of the 'bird', for he intended to help. If he only knew what that simple gesture meant – that his life's history would from then onwards be re-written…
"Alas, my elven sight fails me." He whispered as his the letter that was caught within the leaves seemed to flow into his hands. "It is but a mere parchment! An injured bird indeed."
The parchment of paper was torn, crumbled, and covered of dirt – nevertheless still attached and readable. He had one indistinct mind to leave it unregarded: he did not fancy minding other's business. Hence he allowed his fingers to widen a tiny gap, so the wind would once again carry the letter from his grasp into the unknown. There was a slight gust in the air: he could feel his hair dancing along, yet the letter stayed in his hands, as though wind alone could not weave it away from him.
A slight scowl appeared on his handsome face, and instead he heaved the parchment. It circled above his head for a lone moment, and once again made its way towards him.
Intrigued, he caught it with a firm grip.
A look of hesitance came across his face before he held the parchment in front of him. It was meant to feel wrong, but somehow it felt right.
Dearest Arwen,
It has being nigh on a few months since my sight had last caught of your beauty, yet your presence is still as clear as the River Nimrodel in my mind and heart, our promises echoes by my ears…
An unknown feeling washed him from head to toe as he read the letter, the first love letter he had ever come across.
He didn't know who the writer was, or the receiver - Arwen, but the letter revealed to him of their great love, and he was deeply touched.
Orcs. Many of them. Remember I love you, melethril nin.
For some reason he felt blood boil within his veins. Yrchs! His homeland had long being under-attacked by orcs since long ago, and then onwards the once lovely Greenwood was transformed to Mirkwood, stained by the evils of the eastern realms. Oh how he simply detested the foul creatures…
Unbeknownst even to himself, he had crunched the parchment tight in his fist.
Imladris…
Perhaps he did have somewhere to go, after all.
~*~
You may want to consider [ah, just for a bit of fun =D – and tell me your guesses!]:
So Legolas (I assume you have all figured it is Legolas in this chapter) is heading towards Rivendell, what happens when Arwen gets the letter?
Lord Elrond of Imladris and Thranduil of the Mirkwood are acquainted, what happens to Legolas when he gets to Rivendell – sent back to his kin?
Meanwhile, what happens to Aragorn and his men?
What did the orcs want from the men that they captured them instead of slain?
~*
Replies:
Silvertoekee: glad you liked the idea :) I actually got this idea from reading a book, quite different it is, but still similar in a sense. Oh you work in a DVD store! How lucky! I wanted to work in blockbuster, but oh no they only accept uni students who can work full-time. Ark! Thanks for the information by the way (concerning the disk coming-out dates info). ^_^ Ahh… I must admit sitting in the cinemas for 10 hours is no fun affair, especially when there is only ten minutes of interval where as movie lasts three – four hours each, but for Legolas and Aragorn I endure anything ^_^. LoL. I think I'm too crazy for them. Anyhow, thanks so much!
Legolas19: glad you liked the chapter ^^ and here's the next – mainly of the most beloved elf (in my case, that is) Legolas! Hope you've enjoyed.
Tmelange: ah thank you. Hopefully my weirdo brain won't get too far from the original idea as the story progresses.
Alexandra: Here's more ^_^ hope it was up to scratch, yeah? Thanks!
~*Goddess*~: Jen! Ah yes, Legolas is hot! And so is Aragorn ^_^. Love them to deaths. Lol. Thanks for coming sweetie, oh and yes. I am terribly jealous of the pic on your folder – how could you! =glares= now you have to make up. Ha!
Emme1: Um, sorry, Kevin Coster? My knowledge is rather shallow, sorry for not understanding =P Anyhow, glad you liked the start ^^
Yami Meji no Minaraikou: LoL! Ah, yes, a big risk, but must blame himself for not hearing the coming of the enemies, hm? Naughty… too absorbed in memories of his lady. Thanks muchies girl! (oh, don't forget to email me when there's a sequel =wink=!!)
Goldmund: What become of Aragorn? Nothing! Absolutely nothing horrible, of course [feigned innocence]. :P Yup, might've already realised that the letter in the last chap was the one Legolas finds. Weird I suppose, that he finds a letter not even addressed to himself and it could change his life – but hey, weird things happen. ^^ Thanks!
Ta!