Disclaimer: Not affiliated in any way to the Tolkien books. None of the characters are mine except my two original ones.
Chapter 14~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Melayren ascended the short flight of stairs and took in the sight of all the hand woven tapestries. There were long colorful silken draperies that swayed erotically as the warm mid-summer breezes flowed through the stone windows. The halls remained at a constant cool temperature due to being situated and built into the large mountain of Minas Tirith.
Melayren paused at a large, dark wooden door listening for a sound on the other side. She picked up a few muffled female voices. With reservation, Melayren lifted the door's metal latch and gave a firm push. The door opened silently, allowing Melayren to enter the bright sun lit room. She stood for a moment and watched her mother, her grandmother, and her cousin working pieces of cloth with needles. The latch gave a startling click as the heavy door found its placement in the doorframe. A hush fell between the three beautiful elves.
Melayren gazed at each of them in turn and presented her mother with a nervous smile, "I beg, I have not caused an interruption?"
Lady Galadriel smiled lovingly at Melayren but said nothing. Arwen looked to Melayren seriously and replied, "You must join the society to be in this room."
Melayren stared at Arwen suspiciously and then asked, "The society? What society do you speak of?"
Saradell placed a long piece of silver linen across her lap and set her needle down, "The wedding society, my darling."
Lady Galadriel began to laugh as Melayren rolled her eyes and produced an unladylike sound from her lips. Galadriel held her hand for Melayren to approach, "Saradell, don't play in such ways with my last free spirit. She will marry in time."
Melayren gladly leaned in to kiss Galadriel's cheek, "Thank you, Grandmother." She chose to sit on a stool between her mother and Arwen as the next question was asked, "Why have you not joined in the hunting? You take pleasure at being one of first to bring in a prize."
Melayren sighed and looked to the window, as if searching for the answer on the wind. "My taste for Pheasant has wane. My palate finds big game animals objectionable and it is hard for me to see them killed. I understand the need for others to feed from them. I only wish to avoid…"
The other three elves shared bemused expressions between themselves yet remained silent. They continued their stitching and allowed Melayren the time to gather her thoughts.
Melayren rose and walked to the open window. Beyond was a view of plush emerald green land and dark evergreen trees just outside the fields. Directly below was a drop off and ledge of stone. Out of sight, under the stone blocks, was a lower level of the 'White City', almost a world of its own. Each level had homes and merchants that coexisted and came under the rule of the King of Gondor. It was a proud and happy city once more. The people loved their king.
One word remained with Melayren and haunted her waking and sleeping hours. Love. Could she be positive that the feelings were deep enough to last? Could she have the same connection and devotion that Arwen carried for Aragorn? 'Is Legolas meant for me?' Melayren pondered silently.
"Your heart holds the answer. Your mind is not listening, Melayren."
Melayren turned to see Galadriel watching from her seat across the room. "I'm frightened." Melayren silently spoke through the telepathic channel that Galadriel opened for their private communication.
Galadriel's eyes sparkled with understanding, "You are strong. You share many familiar attributes. Legolas is not one to force you to his will. He is patient and he will wait until you are ready."
Melayren smiled and thanked Galadriel with her eyes. She went to the three elves and kissed each on the cheek before exiting the room. Saradell raised an eyebrow at Galadriel but said nothing. Lady Galadriel returned to her own sewing and wondered what color of robes would suit Melayren best as she was given away at her own marriage ceremony.
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Melayren unsheathed her weapon and inspected the smooth, shiny blade. She felt tense and unsure about the decision she was making. Hoping that a vigorous training exercise would help clear her mind. She placed the protective scabbard along side a tree and strolled to a clearing in the field close to the citadel.
Melayren positioned her stance, feet set apart with her right leg in front. Slowly releasing a deep breath, she stretched her right arm to the front of her. Leisurely rotated her wrist in rhythmic circles, the long blade cut through the warm atmosphere with whooshing sounds. She remained firm in her footing as she increased the speed of her wrist until the sword was nothing but a blur and the sounds became hypnotically deafening.
Satisfied with the warm sensation of blood flow through her lower arm, Melayren began moving her arm and shoulder in sophisticated motions and arching the swings with deadly force. She added footwork into her practice and soon she was defeating imaginary foes from all sides of her. She moved in the graceful, fluid stokes and leaps that resembled a ritualistic dance.
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The hunting party paused near the entrance of the Citadel. It had been a triumphant trip into the forest. Many pack animals carried enough meat to last an additional three days of feasting. The mood among the company of men, elves, and dwarf was boisterous.
It wasn't long before the horses were unloaded and the groups headed toward the dining hall for drinks and stories. Legolas tended to Arod while stable hands cleaned and fed the other horses. The bond between Legolas and his horse had become unbreakable and the admiration he held for the valiant steed was shown back to him in great number. It would not due for anyone to settle the beautiful white horse except his master.
Legolas made his way into the courtyard, carrying his bow and quiver when joyous laughter greeted him at the fountain. Pippin and Merry each held a tankard of ale and a bunch of grapes.
"Legolas!" sang Pippin as he saw his tall friend approach. "Gimli was sharing his count on all the winning foul he brought back."
Legolas' eyebrows arched dramatically, "Is he? Whatever his count is, mine is plus two." He smiled at the two hobbits and began to walk past.
"Are you lookin' for Melayren?" asked Merry, innocently. Pippin tried to hide a knowing snigger.
Legolas paused, hoping that Merry would give him the information of her whereabouts without Legolas having to ask. The two hobbits remained silently waiting for Legolas to take the bait. Legolas smiled shyly, "Yes, do you know where I can find her?"
Pippin raised his tankard West of the Citarel, "She was walking out to the field with one of her blades. Practice, I would wager."
Legolas reached a slender hand forward and plucked a green grape form Merry's bunch. He raised the grape and winked, "I'm indebted to you." He popped the grape into his mouth and turned to the West.
Merry and Pippin burst into gales of laughter at the sight of Legolas' humor.
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Legolas saw Melayren and remained at a distance. He wanted to study her, unobserved. She moved with fluid grace and even her fierce movements looked gentle. The speed and stealth she displayed reminded him of the tournament they participated in. He had underestimated her and she had bested him.
Legolas' brows frowned as a memory flooded to his mind. He watched Melayren and he could almost see someone else. The elf from his memory didn't resemble Melayren in appearance, but the practiced movements were the same. He studied Melayren's footwork as she moved into a 'Cross' and a whirling cut, executed from her elbow. She ended the move with an attack made with a quarter turn to the inside, concealing her front but exposing her backside.
She reminded him of someone… Helm's Deep…the warrior maiden. Stunned realization brought forth a sense of loss and wonder.