Thank you guys for the lovely reviews, they certainly motivate a girl to get on with the story!its from here that things slowly start to fall into place and you will need to start memorising small details that will come into play....don't worry, when the time comes all will be explained.
I don't owe anything to do with Tolkien and the three films.
p.s congrats to Orlando bloom on his engagement!
Servant Rule Number Eleven:- Never forget who you are, for as much praises and honour bestowed upon you. You are a servant and nothing more.
Funeral rites for the warrior named Horthe was prepared throughout the day, first came the prayers of the warrior's first morning as a newly resurrected being in the Halls of Mandos. Them came song of sorrow for absence and the long awaited time to come for one to see him again. This was followed by individual private moments for those who wished to share their last moments with the body before it was laid to rest in the family tomb, along with his forbearers.
Sunset came and all the palace inhabitants were lined up on the walls of the palace to look upon those for one last time.
The bodies of the heroic fallen were lined up in the dying sun, side by side with their fellow comrades upon the earth's sweet ground.
Songs of lament whispered upon the evening's air as the sun sank below the tree, stealing away the last of it light that happened to illuminate the decease. With the sun gone, there was a heavy moment of peace where individuals whispered prayers.
Isil looked down upon the royal father and son who bowed their head in prayer. Grief fluttered over her as she looked upon Horthe, an elf she barely knew by reputation but she said a prayer for the fallen hero. Her eyes never left the prince, even from here she could feel his sorrow radiate from the party below where families and elders of the deceased gathered. Keay shuddered next to her and she knew she wasn't the only one to feel it.
"Sorrow's a rotten thing is it not Isil? We should be smiling an retelling moments of laughter with those who have passed on." Keay whispered.
"Tomorrow is the day for that." Isil replied, referring to the feast at sunrise and the presentation of the living heroes of the battle that shaken Mirkwood.
Keay nodded, nothing was said for a long moment as they watched below them the whispered waves of prayers.
Then Legolas looked up seemingly at the sky but Isil felt his eyes burn her own as he opened his mouth and sang a note so sweet that it jerked painfully at her heart.
May his feet carry him to worlds a-splendour,
May his grave lie at the door of the sun.
May light shine his way home forever,
May us not mourn for he is gone.
Love is a season, first blooms then withers,
Death is an horizon, one we cannot see.
As much as we pray and much as we cry,
He who goes cannot return to thee.
To exchange my life for his keep,
To bid with Valar a game I would weep.
But may I remember his soul on those nights,
Where stars fail to shine and the moon bodes no light."
His song died on his lips as he started forlornly at his friend's body Isil wiped at the tears that trickled from her eyes and handed a handkerchief to Keay who quietly sobbed beside her.
"Didn't he sang so beautifully?" she sobbed out as Isil looked at Legolas's defeated form below. The prince looked up at her once more and she saw in his eyes the sorrow she knew will stain his soul for a long time.
"He sings beautifully." She whispered shakily.
Isil sat at the kitchen table with a glass of wine before her.
She wasn't alone, in fact all the palace servants after a hard day's work have gathered in the palace kitchen to drink in the name of the victorious dead who now laid cold in their vaults.
As Rowan's final words of prayer faded on the stone walls, the scrape of chair legs and benches on the stone floor echoed along with the single cheer of "Hail!" as every elf raised their glass and drank in honour.
"Pass me a bottle will you?" Keay spoke up from her silence that lasted her from that moment on the palace wall.
Isil rose one eyebrow but handed her a bottle and watched her pour a large glass for herself.
"Your not planning to drink yourself in to oblivion are you?" she could help but ask as Keay shook her head, "I'm planning to make this drink worthy of the deceased."
"You will lie as one of them if you carry this on." Isil frowned but Keay wasn't listening as she gulped down a hearty portion of the drink.
Rowan looked at the young elleth and whispered to Isil, "She has much to learn."
"She has much to suffer...." Isil smiled at the older elleth who let out a bark of laughter and poured another drink into Isil glass, "Smile my friend. For the sun rises soon and we will shake the chains of sorrow and praise the names of those who've left us."
Isil raised the glass to her lips but she didn't drink.
Instead she stood up and exited the kitchen to the gardens where empty washing lines hung, sparkling with the dew. She breathed in the fresh scent of the foliage about her and turned her head to see the subtle pink sky where the sun was yet to be born.
Her heart yanked when she saw silhouetted against the wash of the sky was Legolas leaning against a pillar that supported a balcony of flowers, spewing from the palace.
She walked to him, feeling the aura of one who was lost in rage, anger, sorrow and loneliness radiate from him.
He didn't look up from the ground he stared intently at until she reached out and touched him on the shoulder. He jumped and stared at her in bewilderment and then recognition dawned on him as he regained his composition.
"Is that for me?" He looked at the wineglass in her hand and smiled as she handed it to him.
He stared at the blood red liquid for a long while then raised it to the dawn in a silent toast to his departed friend and drank the wine. With his other arm, he drew her by his side and whispered, "Dawn breaks and I will drink my next drink from your lips that bring me joy and sweet laughter."
He dropped the glass he drank from, its crystal chards shattered on the marble floor but it was lost upon Legolas as he bent his head down and kissed her, drinking the love she had from her as he felt the first of dawn's light warming his face.
The palace's horn echoed in the spires, sending the sleeping doves flying as its long clear note signalled the start of a new day.
Far off, Isil could hear someone was singing a song of joy for the times the fallen have bought. Legolas broke the moment as he pulled back and swept the tendrils of loose hair behind her ear.
"It's a new day." She whispered and he closed his eyes and raised his face to bask in the fresh rays of pure light from the sun.
"It is." He sighed as he felt all chains of weariness and frustration slide free.
"It's a new day, there's hope
It's a new day, there's scope.
To face a different challenge
To discover there's no ending or beginning
To the new thing you can do."
A maid sang from one of the towers. It was slowly took up by the guards as they carried out their watch and some the servants who bustled down below in the gardens with fresh laundry sang it too.
The palace a-rang with the song to greet the new dawn after the dark days of death and bloodshed. Around them, the blossoms on the vines bloomed and the leaves unfurled as they sensed the darkness lifting to be replaced with joy.
Legolas and Isil exchanged a smile, soon their voices joined the prayer and it died away as the sun rose steadily above the mist filled land, the song's notes dying on the wind to be replaced by the chorus of birds and the sigh of the trees.
"Here I must take leave of you." Legolas pressed another kiss to her lips and smiled, "I have a feast to prepare tonight and an honour to bestow on a certain someone." He fitted her a direct look and grinned as she blushed and looked out over the palace
gardens.
When she looked back at him, his grinned faded into a private smile and she asked him what was in his mind.
"Tonight."
Her spine quivered at the word, her mind spiralling at the thoughts assailing her as she rose a slender eyebrow to enquire what he meant.
"Tonight, I will find you." His voice held a definite air of menace as his eyes raked her to her skin.
"And then what?" She asked quietly, knowing full well what he wanted.
"I'm laying my claim on you." He softly replied followed by a light kiss and a smile.
"Legolas?" called a voice and Legolas turned his head to see one of his advisors looking for him on the balcony below.
"Tonight." He promised and waked to the edge of the balcony and jumped down below where Isil heard the startled reaction of the prince's advisor below.
"Isil!" came the shrill exclamation and Isil almost dropped one of Thranduil's vases she was cleaning in one of the king's many rooms.
"What Rowan?" Isil lowered the gold vase to the shelf it stood and turned to look at the eldar who stared at her in amazement.
"You should be getting ready for the feast that is being held in your honour!" Rowan shook her head and yanked the duster from her hand.
"It's not just in my honour....." Isil started to object but Rowan wasn't having any of it and shooed her away and ordered a passing maid to take her to the bathing rooms to bath and get ready.
"This is absurd!" Isil scowled as the maid escorted her like a faithful bodyguard. The maid smiled apologetically, "Its just for one day. And anyway, you can survive being fussed over cant you? I know I would!"
They stepped into the bathing room, the abrupt curve in the wall erected for privacy from prying eyes caused Isil to collide with another elleth who apologised profusely.
"I'm so sorry." Isil started but her eyes took in the somewhat familiar elleth.
"Isil." She recognised her too.
"Wenion is it not?" Isil politely inquired, the elleth nodded which confirmed to Isil that she was Horthe's widow. She had seen the beautiful elleth from afar at the burial and heard the rumours that she was fading from the absence of her husband's life.
From the looks of it, the rumours were true. Deep shadows furrowed her face beneath her eyes and her hair has lost its radiance. Skin that was once snow-white was now tinted grey with death and lips that were once so sweet to kiss looked to be carved from stone.
"I've heard much about you Isil and what you have done. Horthe, no matter what his mission was, his main objective in every battle was to look out for his friend. It would make him unease to learn Legolas now stands alone with no one to watch his back." Her voice rasped, and Isil couldn't help but wonder what was Wenion like at the full bloom of life.
"Legolas will stand tall. I can assure you that Horthe's death was not in vain." Isil responded, watching the widow carefully as she gauged what words she could say without provoking emotions.
"Horthe died the way he always wanted. Legolas knows that. Horthe would have been proud about your actions concerning the battle. He would have honoured you in person. But as he isn't here on this earth no more, I have been trying to find you to give this to you."
She handed Isil a sword nested in its scabbard and Isil knew it once belonged to Horthe.
"I cannot take this." Isil objected but Wenion wouldn't take her husband's relic back.
"It's standard practice that an officer in the guards would hand a fellow comrade his sword as a sign of respect and honour, for deeds done in times of battle. Horthe would have handed it to you. Please." Wenion wiped away a tear and closed Isil's hand over the sword.
"It would be my honour to receive such a thing in Horthe's name and in yours." Isil whispered, she unsheathed the sword and the blade reflected its cold, cruel light. It was flawless with the inscribed words of honour and the glory of the Valar near it's hilt. It was a splendid weapon of the finest craft and Isil closed the blade home in its nest then looked at Wenion once more but she was gone.
Isil lowered her eyes to the sword that laid in her hands and something clicked that it wouldn't be the last time a sword like this would be in her grasp. She shuddered from such a weak-founded premonition and stepped forward to have her bath, her eyes never leaving the sword as she lowered it to the table by the tubs.
"There! Splendid!" Rowan smiled and stepped back from Isil to admire the overall look.
Isil wore a dress in red which set off her features well with her hair flowing free down her back. Around her waist hung Horthe's sword on a gem incrusted belt that came with the weapon. At first Isil adamantly declined wearing such a thing but Rowan insisted that it would cause offence to tradition that was the wife's last role on behalf of her fallen husband to bestow his last honour on a fellow comrade.
Tonight was such a night to see who would hold the greatly known general's sword.
A horn blew, signalling the feast was about to start and Isil stepped out into the corridor to see gathered in the now seemingly cramped corridor was all the maids. They cheered and applauded Isil who stood awkwardly as she took centre stage.
She followed the guards who were to escort her to the hall to await being called forward. She was shown into a wing where waited several other elves who all wore full military dressage. Their eyes took in her form then stared at the sword that hung heavily on her waist.
"So it is." Whispered one elf and he bowed his head in respect to Isil who was by now confused and distraught to provoke such reactions.
"You have made yourself a very powerful elleth with the kingdom's army. We would follow you in lead of Horthe's sword." Spoke another elf who too bowed his head.
The remaining elves bowed their heads and Isil, not knowing what to do bowed in return.
The difficult scene was interrupted by a herald who came into tell them they were calling them forward one by one to receive their honour. Isil gladly took some wine offered to her and sipped it as she watched the numbers around her dwindle till it was just her and another elf. He gave her a small smile and he too, departed through the curtained covered doorway where from the other side she could hear the raucous applause and words of Thranduil.
"You're next!" hissed a herald who waved her to the doorway. She could hear a crier calling out "Isil Daughter of Hassel who fired an arrow, straight and true which turned the tide of the battle and lead us out of darkness into victory. Who defending the king and saved the prince's life....."
There was some other words but Isil didn't hear them as she gulped with nerves.
The herald gave her a gentle prod and she stepped through the parted curtains to see the huge hall filled with colour and elves. The sea of elves turned to watch her walk down the green carpet to the thrones where sat Thranduil with a wreath of berries upon his head as it was autumn and Legolas, who upon his head had a circlet of silver.
The elves who went before her to receive their honour drew their swords and raised it so the hilt was eyelevel to their face. At their action, came a great hiss of whispers as the onlookers realised that she wore the sword of honour.
This was followed by the shrill of a thousand blades being drawn by the guards and held in honour of the elleth who walked cautiously towards the thrones.
She watched Legolas look about him in confusion then look upon her once more before his eyes fell to the sword. His hands gripped the throne's arm rest as he took in the sight of his friend's sword upon his maid's waist and his face froze in a tableau of emotionless grace as he slowly raised to his feet beside his father.
"Isil, daughter of Hassel. In the call of battle you didn't walk from the threat of death but stood by my side and turned the fortunes of the battle by your true aim that lit the dark and guided my son to safety. Furthermore you saved my son's life at the gates when he fell under attack and not only shot all enemies who came close to befalling him. But you also watched over him when he was wounded and ensured his welfare above your own. And for that, my kingdom honours you." Thranduil clearly spoke, he reached for a circlet from a servant who held out a red cushion where it sat.
"Kneel." Thranduil whispered and Isil blushed as she knelt down, not knowing what was required of her during this presentation.
"My honour and grace for always." Thranduil called as he lowered the circlet upon her fair head, where the cool metal shivered her nerves before gradually warming to her body heat.
"Arise Isil. And let Horthe's sword proclaim you as a true heroine." Thranduil smiled and Isil complied and rose to her feet whilst her hand gripped the sword with uncertainty.
Her eyes looked over at Legolas who eyes regarded her with confusion then praise as he slowly smiled and inclined his head in a gesture of respect.
"As Prince and warrior of this kingdom, I salute you." He softly spoke and with a shrill, he unsheathed his sword and held it up in the same gesture as the palace guards. The crowd cheered at this and Isil blushed as she returned the gesture with Horthe's sword, not really knowing what was all the fuss about.
The prince returned his sword home and smiled at Isil who fumbled with her sword as she tried to slide it back into its sheath. He stepped forward and helped her, the sword replaced with a click as he looked up and whispered, "You know nothing of the ritual of the sword?"
She shook her head.
"It'll be explained to you after more....engaging matters." His eyes held her own as she weakly nodded, knowing from his deliberate pause what he was referring to.
"Isil, you must grace my presence with a dance." Thranduil intervened and Isil took his offered hand and walked with the king to the middle of the hall where already dancers circled and music struck up.
That night Isil knew from what Thranduil told her as they danced that she was made a powerful elleth by the gesture of Hothe's widow. The offering of the sword wasn't a thing to be taken lightly after centuries of tradition. If an elf of high rank fell in battle, his sword would be offered to a fellow comrade who served well, via his widow. The sword was a sign to other warriors that the sword holder held the deceased highest regard and hence calls for respect.
Politically this made her now one of the kingdom's powerful elves as at the sword's presence, she could order over half of Thranduil's army to her own will.
In the past, those who received the swords of the befallen and were of military status went on to become some of Middle Earth's most famous heroes.
One including Glorfindel who long ago, fought side by side with the armies of Mirkwood at the battle of Dagorlad where he inherited the sword of Oropher, father of Thranduil where the young prince emerged as Mirkwood's current king.
(Author's note - this fact whereas is true that an alliance of Mirkwood and Lorien elves fought at the battle of Dagorlad, I embellished the fact by placing Glorfindel there. Whether of not he did actually fought there I do not know but I have taken advantage of the elf's renown past of being the only elf to be reborn by the Valar into the body he once possessed after he was slain by a Balrog. Glorfindel's fame is well known in Middle Earth and he'll play a vital part in the future of this story.)
Others who inherited the befallen's swords, were nothing more than stable hands or elves who were in the right place at the right time, who by nature were not warriors.
They had kept the swords they'd gained by locking them away, not wishing to become warriors they weren't born to be and carried on living their lives. This was Isil's latter choice.
Warrior she was most certainly not, and she wasn't going to be made a fool by brandishing a sword of most high respect with a false air.
She told Thranduil that this was the path she chosen and Thranduil nodded, "This would be best for someone of your situation. But don't hide it forever. You never know when I'll call upon you to fight by my side again."
She smiled and they slowed as the dance came to an end.
"It seems Legolas wishes to dance with you." Thranduil smiled at his son who walked up towards them, he handed her hand over to him and took up an offer of an elleth's wish to dance and waltzed away, leaving Legolas to stare after his father with amusement that his father still processed the moves. He returned his attention to Isil and lead her to the lively tune.
"You seem troubled." He murmured as he acknowledged her small frown and felt her unease radiate from her.
"About tonight...." She started but she got no further when Legolas hushed her by placing his index finger upon her lips.
"There are too many ears listening here. But I have you know that my plans concerning this eve still remains intact." His eyes regarded her for a moment but she broke away and whispered, "Forgive me for being too cautious but I have more to loose than you. Aren't you aware of the dissention ritual? If we did this at a merry making circle then we would be fine but we're not."
"I cannot wait for the next circle. I want you now." he whispered back to her hoarsely. "And as for the dissention ritual. It's all a load of stories circulating to scare the maids. I've for one never seen anyone being punished for this."
"But Rowan said she has..." Isil spoke up and looked at Legolas as he frowned. "Its her duty to ensure all her maids don't misbehave. It just confirm its stories in circulation."
They danced for a while, Legolas constantly aware of Isil feeling ill at ease and he looked down, "You wish to back out?"
She looked up and knew it wasn't what she wanted, how many times have she daydreamed about lying in his arms, giving and receiving pleasure and touching his masterful body she seen from afar. "No."
"Then my plan is intact for you if you wish it." He replied as the tune ended once again and Legolas pulled away as another elleth requested a dance. She felt him slip some thing in her hand and she took it and smiled at the elleth who lead Legolas back out into the dance floor.
"Hussy." She muttered and looked down to see it was a slip of parchment that Legolas gave her.
"Can I ask for a dance fair lady?" An elf of the royal guard asked and she slipped the parchment into her belt and smiled as she took up the elf's offer.
