Chapter 12
Author: Tith
Imlain's brother, Menelluin sought Lorin out and showed her where she would be staying. Menelluin led her to Meneatarion's home and took her to a room not far from Araréiel's quarters. "Here?" Lorin asked Menelluin, surprised. "Are you sure?"
Menelluin nodded, a smile on his face. "Meneatarion would have it no other way, Lorin. You are his welcomed guest here, and he hopes that you will remain with us for many long years."
The look on Lorin's face was one of astonishment. "I do not know if I can believe all of this - first I am asked to stay in a place so lovely as Mirkwood, and then I am told I may sleep in the house of Meneatarion. I do not understand! But I am happy and quite content."
Menelluin laughed. "You will feel at home soon enough." He cleared his throat and stood taller. "Now, dinner will be served in an hour. I suggest you dress and join us downstairs. The day has been long and you must be famished! Meneatarion had several dresses stored in the cabinets for you, and I know he will be pleased if you would wear one tonight."
After Menelluin had gone, Lorin gazed slowly around her new room. She circled the quarters, running her fingertips over soft fabrics, the elegant furniture, and finally to the dresses that Menelluin had mentioned. Lorin's face glowed with excitement as she caressed the beautiful gowns. Certainly these could not be for her! She took one out and held it up to her chest. It was the proper length and looked to be the correct size. She slipped out of the casual dress she wore and pulled on the pale blue gown she held in her hands. It was snug and comfortable. She walked to the mirror in the corner of her room and spun around. It was perfect! With a grin lingering on her face, Lorin combed and tidied her hair. Before leaving her room and running downstairs, she slipped a pair of sandals on her feet.
As Lorin stepped outside, the sleeves and flowing hem of her dress billowed in the cool breeze. Night had fallen early, and the moonlight from above shimmered down upon her. Lorin breathed deeply, the scent of fresh and fragrant air putting her at ease.
"Lorin!" Lorin turned to find Meneatarion striding down the path next to her. He held his arm out to her. "Please join me on our walk to dinner!" Meneatarion smiled at Lorin as she hooked her delicate arm through his. "I promise you, we will speak after all of the pleasantries are past. I know you have many questions."
Dinner moved by quickly, and Lorin barely touched her food. She took turns watching her plate in embarrassment and scanning the fair faces that surrounded her. Many offered her their warm welcomes and greetings, but Lorin soon felt that she could not stand another moment of attention.
It was then that Meneatarion rose from his chair and excused himself. Taking Lorin's hand, he led her from the room. They strolled through the starlit night until Meneatarion came to rest at a stream. It flowed and sparkled through much of Mirkwood, and was often used as a place of personal peace and refuge. Meneatarion kneeled in the grass, and Lorin could not help but think how strong he held himself and how tenderly his eyes reflected his thoughts.
"I do not know where to begin, Lorin, so you must forgive me if I am slow to start." He sighed, his gaze trained on the rippling, iridescent water. Lorin did not know what he saw in the waves, but it seemed to soothe him. "I have spent your lifetime longing for you to be here, Lorin. When your father took you, it was without my consent. If I had foreseen his departure, I would not have allowed it to happen. There are some things that Roryn has told you, but most he has not. Some things he may not even know himself. Your mother was not abandoned as I had told you, but was born to me many long years ago."
Lorin remained silent as Meneatarion continued his tale. Her heart ached for the world she could have grown up in and the life she had missed knowing. Tears glistened in her eyes as she listened to Meneatarion's words.
"Her spirit longed for adventure from the moment she was born. As soon as she was old enough to mount a pony, she left for long journeys on her own. I could not stop her, but always knew that she was well. During one long absence, she met your father in the city of Gondor. She fell in love and soon married him. I will not lie and tell you that this pleased me, but your father was a good man, and with time I looked upon him as a son. Roryn was born to them three years after they wed. It was ten more years until you were brought into this world. I cried the moment I saw you. Lorin, I have not the words to describe your beauty and the tenderness I felt for you."
Meneatarion's eyes were filled with grief. "The day your mother died, my wife also died. They were attacked on the borders of Mirkwood by a raiding party sent from Mordor. Their wounds were too severe for them to bear, and so was the burden in your father's heart, who was with them, but could not prevent their fall. He took you and Roryn and fled from the home that your mother had loved so well. Your brother knew naught of me until five years ago. His memories from childhood were clouded and distant, but as soon as he traveled here, he knew. You were very young then, and while your father still lived, Roryn feared to tell you of your past. I understood, but hoped for the day when I could see you again."
Meneatarion turned to Lorin. His fingers caressed the soft skin on her face. "I desire for you to stay here. I have loved you as I have loved my own daughters. Araréiel does not know you, for you were so small when last she saw you, but she will remember and be glad to have you here."
Lorin said nothing, but wrapped her arms around her grandfather's waist and cried on his shoulder long into the night. He sat with her, running his fingers through her silken hair and breathing the scent of one he had not dared to dream of meeting again.
Roryn glanced once over his shoulder as he rode out of Mirkwood. The very depths of his soul were filled with the burden that he carried. He felt peace that his sister would be safe, but even that knowledge could not remove the trouble and discontent that lay on his heart. No one would guess the journey that he had planned, and to none had he shared his thoughts. He rode through the stillness of the night, his mind and vengeance bent on Mordor.