Chapter Four: Legolas' Decision

Síriel raced towards the kitchens, flung open the doors with her free hand, and managed to get inside before the heavy doors swung shut behind her. She placed the now empty wine barrel on the floor before dropping herself wearily into a chair, breathing heavily, eyes closed.

"What ever is the matter?"

Síriel knew the speaker was Celebrindal. She was one of the maidens who worked in the kitchens, and a dear friend of hers.

"Ernil Legolas…" Síriel panted, eyes still closed.

Celebrindal smiled.

"He is indeed a very handsome elven man. I had no idea you were in love with him, Síriel. I thought after the problem with Amorith, Giliath, Elenath, and Forfirith you decided to leave the high ones alone. It seems I was misled. You are very sly." she said.

Síriel opened her eyes, her breath regained.

"You know very well I have no one I desire in my heart, especially not one of the high ones. They are all the same. They see themselves as the elite, and everyone else is their servant. What makes it harder for me is that I do not wholly belong to either race: Men or Elves. I am half-elven, and for me, it is a curse." she retorted. "And if I loved someone, I would tell you. Rather, you would make me tell you."

Celebrindal smiled. She wiped her hands daintily on the large cloth that was slung over her shoulder before sitting beside Síriel.

"Yet not all are like that. Even people who are not high can be the same. It comes from a lack of understanding and ignorance. Yet, you have me. If no one cares for you, than I do." she said.

Síriel smiled her thanks.

"You still have not explained why you came running in here without breath, as if an army of spiders was after you." Celebrindal said.

Síriel's smile faded.

"I was at the feast, refilling the wine vessels when I turned around and bumped into the Prince, spilling what little wine was left in the barrel onto him. Such a disgrace, especially since I did not want to be present at the feast in the first place!" she said darkly.

Celebrindal laughed.

"And what did the Prince do?" she asked, amused.

"Well, I must thank you, dear mellonen, for your sympathy! I never knew what a caring friend you are!" Síriel teased. "The Prince simply apologized, insisting it was his mistake. Then he let me go after I asked what my punishment was. He laughed when I asked!"

Celebrindal started to chuckle.

"See, what did I tell you? Not all of the high ones are corrupt!" she said. "You made a complete disgrace of yourself, asking for punishment!"

Síriel gritted her teeth.

"What a lovely friend you are!" she said to her. "Here I come looking for sympathy, and instead you make me feel ashamed of myself!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Legolas stared after the retreating maiden's back, still unable to believe what he had seen. She was definitely elven; she had pointed ears. She even had elven facial features, but her overall appearance puzzled him. Why was she darker than normal Elves? Had she been tortured? Ah, for another glimpse of her eyes! He found their emerald color quite enchanting, yet he had also read something in them, something complex and deep. It was like fear and pain, a major wound. He refilled his goblet with wine and made his way back to the table, still thinking about her.

He had never seen her before. He had met most of the daughters of all of his sire's advisors and courtiers, or, rather, they had introduced themselves to him of their own free will. Then he remembered that her attire was not of the high class, such as himself. It was a plain dress. And she had been refilling the wine vessels. Most daughters of advisors did not do that sort of thing. She was most likely a servant.

Thranduil noticed Legolas sitting thoughtfully.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

Legolas started.

"Nothing, adar. I was merely thinking." he replied.

"Why is the front of your tunic wet?" Thranduil said.

"That is what I was thinking about."

"Are you drunk?"

Legolas laughed.

"Adar, I just met a most interesting maiden." he said.

Thranduil's eyes twinkled.

"You are in love, then?" he whispered.

Legolas shook his head and answered:

"I went to refill my goblet with wine. There was a maiden refilling the vessel, and when she turned around, she bumped into me. There was some wine left in the barrel she was holding, and it came onto my tunic."

"Clumsy servants! Do not fret. I have had it much worse. A gardener once tripped over me, and his muddy hands ruined my best tunic. I released him from my service immediately." Thranduil said.

Legolas shook his head again.

"It was not her fault, it was mine. I was standing too close behind her. That is not the point. She is elven, I think, yet she is different than all other elven maidens I have ever seen. Her hair is copper-red, her eyes emerald green, and her skin, her skin is golden-bronze." he continued. "I have never seen such an elven maiden. She is very beautiful."

Thranduil smiled.

"You have met Síriel, then." he said. "She is indeed beautiful."

"Síriel? Her name means river. You know her?" Legolas asked.

"She is the daughter of Gil-celeb. Her name is quite fitting for her, for she assists her sire with rafting to Lake-town. When she is not rafting, she helps other servants working outside, or relaxes by the river or in the trees. Her mother was from the race of Men, one of the Beornings. Síriel is half-elven, which explains her different appearance. That is why she has copper-red hair and green eyes. As for her skin color, it comes from her mother's side. It seems that the Beornings are darker in skin color than all the other races of Middle-earth."

Legolas listened closely, fascinated.

"I did not know we had a half-elven maiden here!" he said. "I should like to get better acquainted with her."

"I wish you luck, then. She has had a hard time ever since she came to live here. At first she lived with her mother, and her sire used to go frequently to visit them. When her mother died, her sire brought her here to live with him. She has dealt with much hatred for herself because she is half-elven. People looked down upon her, calling her a half-breed. Even now some still resent her. As a result, she has kept to herself most of the time. I think if you succeed in becoming friendly with her, she will prove to be warm and kind." Thranduil told him.

Legolas sat back in his chair, thinking deeply. How could people make fun of her because of who she was? It was not her choice. Yet he knew some Elves in the kingdom that resented anyone who was not elven. He was determined to befriend her. He knew now the look behind her eyes. He wanted to make it disappear. He would make it disappear.

Sindarin Translation:

Mellonen: my friend