Disclaimer: Refer to chapter 1.
A/N: Again, thank you so much to all those taking the time to read my story!!
Moraelin and Legolas had conversed with the Rangers for a short time that night, before she secured a room at the inn for the elf. She also asked for a tub to be delivered to his room. She knew the tub they had resembled a horse trough in design and she chuckled to think of Mirkwood's high prince dealing with such primitive lodgings.
The laughter died in Moraelin's throat as she looked around her own lonely room. She usually slept in the hills, for she had only the meager coins she got for game and furs she sold in the village. But, because Aldruid had come to see her, she had gotten a room for the week. Her heart now longed for the calling of owls and the comforting glow of the stars as she sat slowly on the edge of the straw mattress, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The room seemed small and stuffy, lit only by a flickering candle burned down to a misshapen mass of wax. Moraelin buried her head in her hands, her fingers splayed through her thick black hair. She heaved out a deep sigh as the reality of what had happened finally crashed down upon her.
Legolas. Seeing him in the doorway, more beautiful and proud than she had ever remembered, shining with a mysterious silver light to rival the moon itself had halted her heart mid-beat. She had long dreamed of what it might be like to see him again, wondered if she would jump into his arms or turn and flee from him. But, never had she imagined it would be like it had been this night, that time would seem to slow and stop, and all would drop away around her except those impossibly deep blue eyes. Though she fought it, her rebellious mind turned to memories of Legolas. Moraelin curled into a ball on her side, hoping she could sleep. But, the scenes kept parading through her mind. It had been during Mirkwood's Spring Festival, when she was just a small girl...
Moraelin's small feet picked a path over the cool grass as she followed the smell of cooking meat and the trilling tones of upbeat music. She could see the white light of many lamps filtering through the leaves from the front yard of the palace grounds. As Moraelin drew closer, she could smell wine and spicy dishes, and the smoke from sweetly scented candles. Large ferns grew profusely under the huge, noble trees and Moraelin stooped under their sweeping fronds. She crawled forward on her hands and knees, not noticing the dark soil that was ground into her dress.
Her father had made her promise him that she would not go to the palace and that she would stay near their home for a few days. She did not understand why she was to stay out of sight. She had watched sadly from her window as Eregos, Ilianel, and Talendil had left the house at nightfall dressed in their very finest clothes. The elf maiden that had reluctantly agreed to watch Moraelin during the festivities had snuck out when the girl pretended to sleep, and Moraelin made her own escape soon after. She knew not what else to do, she had to know what secret was being kept from her at the palace.
She heard the voices of many elves, all talking cheerily or laughing. When Moraelin finally reached the edge of clearing that faced the palace, she sat back on her heels and bobbed her head, trying to find a good view without revealing herself. Between the concealing leaves, Moraelin caught glimpses of an immense crowd of elves clad in fine clothes. The women all wore shimmering, gauzy dresses of the like Moraelin had never before seen. Her eyes widened and she smiled at the splendor before her. Growing bolder, she pushed one of the fronds aside with a tiny hand. She spotted the King and Queen sitting at the far side of the dance floor in large wooden chairs set upon a platform. They were talking quietly to one another and a rare smile broke across King Thranduil's stern face.
For a second, Moraelin was almost swept up in the exuberance of the celebration and had to fight the urge to rush between the dancing adults to Queen Myallore. The queen had always been kinder to her than even her father's young wife. Moraelin hung back, though she wanted nothing more than to approach the King and Queen now while Thranduil was in a good humor. She wished just once for the King to look at her with something other than silent contempt in his eyes.
Moraelin's brown eyes were drawn to another group that stood near the thrones. Her face fell as she recognized them as her own family. She stared at them, her father and stepmother standing very close, with Talendil in front of them. Her father's hands were resting on Talendil's thin shoulders, as if he wanted there to be no doubt that the handsome elf child was his son. The three of them made a perfect picture of an elf family, with their fine blond hair shimmering in the lamplight and their matching blue eyes full of contentment as they watched couples dancing to the cheerful flute music. They were all so beautiful together, as was every elf in that field.
Moraelin's eyes filled with hopeless tears. She knew then why she had been asked to stay at home. She did not belong with the three of them, nor with any of the glowing creatures before her. She would never fit into that ideal portrait the rest of her family made. She was about to turn aside and return to the sanctuary of her home, when she spotted one last familiar face.
A young elf boy at the other side of the dance floor had broken away from a group of youths, and to Moraelin's horror was staring right back at her. A grin filled his flawless face as he wove through the adults toward her. Moraelin turned and scurried through the undergrowth away from the celebration.
Moraelin rose and was ready to break into a run when a hand closed around her arm. She turned back quickly and hissed, "Legolas, I must go."
He frowned, hurt filling his features, "Moraelin, I've been looking for you all night, why are you not with your family? Come back with me, the Swan Feather Dance will start soon. We can watch it together."
Moraelin shook her head emphatically, "No, Legolas, I must leave. No one can know I was here, especially not my father or your father."
Legolas looked in her teary eyes, and searched her horrified face in confusion. She tore her arm from his grip and made to bolt. But, Legolas grabbed her again,
"Moraelin, wait," he smiled winningly, hoping to chase away his friend's tears, "Wait here. They have plum cakes. I could bring you some. You always liked those didn't you? And, Lord Glorfindel brought something called 'chocolate' from Imladris, you must try it."
Moraelin had stopped struggling and was looking up at him with an expression of reluctant wonder.
"I won't tell anyone you are here, all right," Legolas whispered gently.
Slowly, Moraelin nodded in agreement. Legolas stared at her for another second, then turned and ran back to the merriment. He did not understand why Moraelin was hiding in the shadows or what she was so afraid of. The Spring Festival was held only once every five years and Legolas didn't think he'd ever had such fun in all his young life. He did not know why Moraelin was not allowed to enjoy it too.
Moraelin tiptoed over to a large birch tree and leaned against its trunk. She turned to face the tree and very carefully peered around it to the palace grounds. She saw Legolas's small blond head pop up next to several refreshment tables. Moraelin grinned as she watched him. Legolas always knew just what to do to make things all right.
Legolas soon returned with a heaping plate of treats. Moraelin's previous sadness was quickly banished as she gazed upon the delicacies before her. She and Legolas sat cross-legged at the foot of the tree with the platter between them. She thanked Legolas around a mouthful of plum cake and he laughed at the blob of jelly on the side of her mouth.
"You have to watch the Swan Feather Dance. Mother told me about it. She said her and Father used to compete in it and-"
Moraelin and Legolas froze as a harsh voice piped up from near them, "I should have known you would be here with the half-elf." Moraelin winced at the label that was becoming more and more familiar. The speaker was an older elf child named Medeldir, the son of a commander. Legolas shot to his feet, "Do not call Moraelin that."
Medeldir just laughed, "But that is what she is. I heard my parents speaking of her, saying that she is half elf, half dirty, savage dwarf. I also heard the king tell my father that he would be keeping her out of sight until the guests were gone. He said he did not want word getting out that he had allowed an abomination like her to live."
Legolas's face turned a deep red, he could feel the heat spreading over his skin. His fury was fed by the sound of Moraelin sobbing softly at his feet. Legolas's hands convulsed into fists. In a sudden burst of motion, Legolas flew at the other boy. His shoulder rammed into Medeldir's middle, driving him backwards. The children collapsed in a pile of flailing arms. Legolas came out on top and began slamming his small fist into Medeldir's face. Medeldir kicked Legolas off of him and rolled over. Grabbing Legolas by the collar, he backhanded the much smaller elfling. The loud crack of the impact dragged Moraelin out of her momentary shock.
With a wild shriek, Moraelin launched herself at Medeldir, wrapping her arms and legs around his back to keep him from hitting Legolas again. But, he quickly shook the girl off of him and went for Legolas. The prince had taken the chance to regroup and tackled Medeldir again. Moraelin now grabbed Legolas's arms, trying to pull him off the other boy, "Legolas, stop!" she cried, "You've both got to stop!"
Moraelin did not even notice that the last few moments of rolling and tussling had brought the three of them to the very edge of the dance floor. Several elves stopped dancing and stared in bewilderment at the brawling children. Moraelin was still tugging on Legolas's arm with desperate tears in her eyes as Thranduil and Lord Glorfindel reached them. They tore the two boys apart, Thranduil already scolding his son for partaking in such foolishness.
Lord Glorfindel wrapped a strong arm around the older boy's waist and pulled him a few feet away. As Glorfindel finally released Medeldir, he looked down at the third child. He frowned curiously at her.
She was short and her coloring was strangely dark. Glorfindel glanced at her faded blue dress, which was torn and muddy. Leaves were stuck in her unruly black hair. Glorfindel had never seen anyone like her, especially her deep brown eyes, which he had not seen on an elf in many years. They made him think momentarily of Maeglin, the dark elf who had betrayed Gondolin, and he felt a shudder run up his spine at the memory.
Suddenly, she looked up and saw the elf lord studying her in open puzzlement. Her eyes filled with abject terror as they met his. She dashed away, her tiny form soon swallowed up by the depths of the forest, and Glorfindel was left to wonder if he had really seen her.
Moraelin's father, having spotted his daughter in the fray near the beverage table, let out a deep groan. He ran to the small crowd gathered there just in time to see Moraelin whipping through the fern fronds, her bare feet pounding lightly on the forest floor. He stopped by Thranduil's side and the king whispered to him, "I told you to keep her out of sight,"
"Then it is true," Legolas screamed. His shoulders were still in his father's steely grip, but he twisted around to look up at him, "You did want to keep Moraelin a secret, didn't you?"
Though for a second Legolas spotted genuine regret in his father's eyes, he heard, "You are in enough trouble already, Legolas. I suggest you keep quiet."
Glorfindel looked at Eregos. The captain stared with a pained and uncertain expression at the still waving fronds where the girl had disappeared.
"Eregos, who was that?" Glorfindel asked.
Mirkwood's high captain closed his eyes for a moment, and then faced Glorfindel.
"That was my daughter, Moraelin," he admitted flatly.
"Eregos, don't-" Thranduil began, but snapped his mouth shut at a warning glance from Eregos.
Despite the dark scowl building on Thranduil's face, Eregos continued, "Her mother was Kirali, daughter of Lord Rinolan of the northern realm of the dwarves. She died in bearing Moraelin."
Glorfindel's surprise was short-lived, and his eyes softened, "She is a beautiful little girl, Eregos. You should not feel you need to hide her."
Thranduil finally cut in, "I fear not everyone would be as understanding as you, Glorfindel."
Glorfindel met Thranduil's blue eyes coldly, "I think they might surprise you, Highness."
Eregos watched the terse exchange with growing concern. Then, he looked down at the young prince. Legolas stared angrily back at him, "How could you do this to Moraelin?" His child's voice rose with indignation, "Don't you know how much it hurts her to know she is different? It isn't her fault!"
Eregos knelt in front of Legolas and squeezed his shoulder. "I am sorry, Legolas," he said with true remorse. The elf then turned and sped through the trees after Moraelin.
Eregos burst into his darkened home, calling Moraelin's name breathlessly. He just hoped she had returned here and had not fled further into the forest where there were countless dangers. He rushed up the stairs, but slowed as he entered Moraelin's room. Eregos had been in countless battles, he had known great pain and watched as comrades died in his arms. But, never in his long life had he felt so wretched, felt such agony in his heart as when he saw his little daughter curled in a ball in the corner, sobbing into her hands.
Eregos crossed the room silently and bent over Moraelin. Her hair, so much like her mother's, was in wild disarray, and Eregos brushed it away from her face. Moraelin peeked up at him, her brown eyes shining with tears.
"I am sorry, Father," she choked out between sobs, "I only wanted to know what was happening outside. I am sorry I let the other elves see me. But, the older boy called me names and Legolas tackled him and then he hit Legolas. I know you are ashamed of me, that is why you do not love me anymore. "
Eregos's own eyes filled with tears as he lifted Moraelin into his arms, "Moraelin, I do love you. I will love you until the stars fade out of the sky."
"But I am the half-elf. I am cursed," Moraelin said, continuing to cry against his neck.
"Who said that you?"
"Medeldir. . .but I've heard other people call me those things before."
"Moraelin," Eregos said as he sat on the bed with Moraelin in his lap, "You are not cursed. That is nonsense; it's superstitious nonsense. I don't want you to listen to people when they say that to you." Eregos sighed and set Moraelin away from him so he could look her in the eye, "But you are only half elf, that is true. I am going to explain something to you and I want you to listen very carefully. All right, little one?" Moraelin nodded shyly.
"Moraelin, your mother was a dwarf. I have told you that before, but I have never told you what that means. I met your mother while I was on patrol. The group of travelers she was with was attacked by orcs and she was hurt. I helped her, and I brought her here. She decided to stay and become my wife. She was so happy and beautiful, just like you," Eregos pinched Moraelin's nose, making her giggle. Even after all these years without Kirali, Eregos still felt his chest constrict as he told his daughter, "But your mama died when you were born, and there was a storm that night. And, a huge fire killed much of the forest. People think because you were born at the same time that a curse follows you now. But, that is foolish. Do not believe in such a thing." Eregos took a deep breath before continuing, "The other thing you must understand is that Dwarves and Elves do not get along very well. They do not usually like each other. So, my marriage to your mother was seen as.strange. And that is why you do not look like your brother. You are half dwarf and there is no one else like you in Mirkwood."
Moraelin's lip quivered at his last words, but Eregos smiled, "That is why you are so special, Moraelin. We all look the same, but you, Moraelin, you stand out, you shine. You are my little star."
Moraelin hugged her father and he gathered her into his embrace again. Eregos sighed shakily, still fighting tears. He hated seeing his daughter in such pain, but he also knew this was only the beginning. Moraelin's life would not be an easy one. Eregos ran a careful hand over her hair. Both of his parents had been healers, and although he had never been anything but a warrior, he had somehow inherited their gift for soothing the wounded with merely a touch. It was not long before Moraelin was sleeping peacefully against him.
Eregos adored his son; Talendil was strong and charismatic, that was clear even though he was very young. But, there was a part of Eregos's heart that would belong only to his eldest child. She was all that remained of Kirali. And, when Kirali had died, Eregos had apprehensively faced the fact that he was all Moraelin had. She would need him to look after her, to shield her as best he could from the prejudices of others. With that thought heavy on his mind, Eregos leaned against the headboard and slipped into a troubled sleep.
When Moraelin next awoke, it was to the sound of urgent whispering, "Moraelin. Wake up, will you? Moraelin!" She sat up, finding her father had gone to his own room to sleep, and Legolas was hauling himself awkwardly into her second story window.
"Come on, Moraelin. I'm not going to let my tyrant father ruin this Spring Festival for the both of us. Let's go."
"How did you get here, Legolas?"
He smiled that charming devil's smile of his, "I snuck out of the palace through the root cellar, then I climbed up the trellis to your room."
"Your face is hurt," Moraelin frowned deeply at him. His upper lip was badly swollen where Medeldir had hit him.
"Mother said it will be all right. Come, we have to go."
"We will just get in more trouble, Legolas."
"Ideally, yes," he said, his smile widening, "Come on, we'll miss the Swan Feather Dance if we do not hurry."
Her tiny face tightened with worry, but finally she sighed. She rose from the bed and went to Legolas. He turned so she could climb onto his back. He then crawled back out the window and shimmied down the trellis as Moraelin clung nervously to him. When they were on the ground, Legolas reached for her hand and they ran together through the darkness.
"What is the Goose Feather Dance?" Moraelin whispered as they slowed to a walk, the dance floor very near. Her hand was still held protectively in Legolas's larger palm.
"Swan Feather. Mother said it is the last event of every Spring Festival and is a dance some couples train for centuries to perfect. Mother and Father used to dance in it and they were very good, but now they just judge it at every Festival. She said if I found a good partner and worked hard, I might dance in it someday too."
The children kneeled among the gnarled roots of an ancient tree, just beyond the ring of light illuminating the dance floor. The ancient tradition of the Swan Feather Dance was held in high regard by all the elves of Mirkwood and beyond, and a great crowd of them surrounded the dance floor to view the event. Legolas and Moraelin, however, were just behind the thrones of the King and Queen, and had a clear view of the dancers.
It was already in progress as they settled in, and Moraelin soon found herself absolutely transfixed by the spectacle before her. The male dancers were dressed in white and silver, with masks of feathers obscuring their faces. Elf maidens in beautiful white dresses accented in delicate swan feathers and sparkling white gems spun around them. And, with a swiftness that took Moraelin's breath away, the male dancers would toss their partner in the air, where the maidens would execute elaborate flips and twists before landing lightly again in his arms. The fluid control of every motion, the flawless coordination of each dancer with his or her partner was like art. Moraelin gasped as one elf maiden was thrown several feet higher than those around her, and Legolas glanced over at her upon hearing the sound. Seeing the awe and joy beaming from her face, he smiled brightly. After what had happened that night, his heart was lightened to see true happiness on the girl's face again.
All too quickly, each pair did one more spectacular throw and the music abruptly ended. The dancers stood for a moment, some staring deeply into each other's eyes, the countless feathers on the maiden's dresses still fluttering restlessly. After a moment of silence, a deafening applause rose up from the gathered elves. King Thranduil stood, his eyes soft as he took his wife's arm. They approached a pair of dancers, the male an exceptionally tall Silvan with golden hair and his partner a small elf maiden with a gentle smile. The King and Queen stood before them as quiet fell again. Then, the King did something Legolas had never seen him do before. He dropped to one knee and bowed before the pair. They were the winners, and he honored them humbly. Cheers filled the clearing again and the winning elves thanked the King graciously. They then shared a deep kiss, as elves rushed forward to congratulate them.
Moraelin felt Legolas watching her again. She still felt dazed by the magnificent sight she had just witnessed. She met his blue eyes, and said simply, "I want to do that."
"You do?" Legolas said, cocking his head to the side curiously.
"We should. Oh, Legolas, let me be your partner. We could work every single day. I would work hard, I would learn to do all those things they did...only better. We would do it all better!"
Legolas smiled widely, enjoying the excitement in Moraelin's large eyes. "All right. We will practice. And that will be us someday, Father will be bowing before us."
For years, they had practiced in secret, stealing away into the forest to learn the difficult maneuvers needed for the dance. And, when Legolas had first stepped onto the dance floor of the Spring Festival with his mystery partner, the uproar it caused had bordered on scandal.
Moraelin remembered shuffling her feet uncertainly as everyone around her murmured in anger or shock. She had seen the venomous scowl on the King's face as he saw her. But, she had then dared to glance at her father and her brother where they stood not far away. As she met Eregos's eyes, he smiled at her with obvious pride and love. "You look beautiful," he mouthed to her, and she straightened her back, knowing that it did not matter what other elves said, it did not matter if they lost. Eregos and Legolas cared for her, and at that moment, that was more than enough.
Thranduil had watched the dancing with a brooding frown, determined that Legolas and Moraelin would not be champions. But, they so obviously dominated the other dancers, their moves daring and innovative, that they were victorious beyond any doubt. Legolas had now grown into a fierce warrior, and his quickness and feline grace were fully developed. Moraelin was also trained in the arts of war, giving her agility beyond that of most other female elves. She was compact but exceptionally strong and had no fear of the dangerous throws Legolas challenged her with. When the music stopped, Thranduil rose slowly, his movements as lithe and controlled as those of his son. He approached Moraelin and Legolas and nodded to them, but he refused to bow. As applause built all around them, at first reluctant but soon growing in enthusiasm, Moraelin looked sharply into Thranduil's eyes. It was clear that the girl would not soon forget that affront, and her lip curled into a smirk of supreme confidence. She then turned to Legolas, who lifted her in his arms and swung her around with joy, her black hair flowing in sharp contrast to the white swan feathers nestled in it.
Over four more Spring Festivals, Legolas and Moraelin were triumphant, but Thranduil would never kneel before the girl. For more than twenty years, she and Legolas were the greatest dancers in all the realm. It was not long before she noticed that most of the couples they competed against were husband and wife, that the dance was an expression of the deep love they shared. She knew it was the same for her, but that her's was a doomed love. The Prince of Mirkwood could never truly love a being such as herself, she knew that. But, more and more she stole glances at him as he sparred with other warriors or stood proudly at his father's side. Of course she loved him, he was so easy to fall in love with. But, who was she to desire an elf of such standing?
The last time they danced the Swan Feather Dance, Moraelin stood again before the cold eyes of Thranduil, as Legolas held tightly to her hand. They stayed and received congratulations from those around them, both got a fond kiss on the cheek from Myallore, and finally Legolas pulled Moraelin away, dragging her toward the deeper forest.
"Legolas, where are we going?" she giggled, a giddiness still filling her being at their win. Her father had fallen in battle a few years earlier, and her heart still carried the deep wounds. But, the dance seemed to ease her pain. Everyone expected them to be the best after all these years, but Moraelin still adored the feeling of flying through the sky, knowing the earth no longer bound her to its harsh face. She loved seeing Legolas's beautiful, pure smile shine down upon her as the dance ended. They were far into the trees now, the noise of the festivities a dim hum behind them. She could see the sharp lines of Legolas's face in the moonlight as he stopped and turned to her. He took her other hand in his, and Moraelin's smile faded. Legolas's eyes were burning into hers with some nameless emotion.
"Moraelin," he whispered, brushing a stray piece of hair from her cheek. She stared up at him, her eyes wide with alarm and excitement. As his face descended toward hers, everything within her went very still. She could have never dreamed such a fate might be hers, to receive her first kiss from such a magnificent creature as Legolas. His lips were tentative, moving over hers uncertainly, as he placed a shaking hand on the small of her back. For a moment, Moraelin could do nothing, not even close her eyes. But, as she felt Legolas begin to pull away in disappointment, she broke out of her stupor and quickly gripped the back of his neck. She kissed him back then, with the same reckless passion that she did everything. Just as Legolas tilted his head to deepen the kiss, all juvenile hesitance forgotten, a voice echoed through the trees.
"Legolas! Moraelin! Are you out here?"
The musical sound of Myallore's voice caused the pair to break apart quickly, and Moraelin stepped back so fast she nearly tripped over a tree root. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with vulnerable astonishment.
Breathlessly, Legolas whispered, "We must talk Moraelin... there is something I must speak with you about. But, not now, not here. Father and Talendil have asked me to lead a patrol along the river for a few days, but when I return..."
They had never had that talk. Two days later, Talendil had banished Moraelin from Greenwood. She thought of that kiss often, so brief and yet so meaningful. As she sat alone on a mountainside or huddled shivering next to weathered ruins, she had wondered if Legolas had loved her the way she loved him. She was haunted, tormented by the possibility that they had been so close to finding happiness with each other, only to have it torn away by one cold sentence from Talendil: "You are not wanted here."
A/N: Again, thank you so much to all those taking the time to read my story!!
Moraelin and Legolas had conversed with the Rangers for a short time that night, before she secured a room at the inn for the elf. She also asked for a tub to be delivered to his room. She knew the tub they had resembled a horse trough in design and she chuckled to think of Mirkwood's high prince dealing with such primitive lodgings.
The laughter died in Moraelin's throat as she looked around her own lonely room. She usually slept in the hills, for she had only the meager coins she got for game and furs she sold in the village. But, because Aldruid had come to see her, she had gotten a room for the week. Her heart now longed for the calling of owls and the comforting glow of the stars as she sat slowly on the edge of the straw mattress, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The room seemed small and stuffy, lit only by a flickering candle burned down to a misshapen mass of wax. Moraelin buried her head in her hands, her fingers splayed through her thick black hair. She heaved out a deep sigh as the reality of what had happened finally crashed down upon her.
Legolas. Seeing him in the doorway, more beautiful and proud than she had ever remembered, shining with a mysterious silver light to rival the moon itself had halted her heart mid-beat. She had long dreamed of what it might be like to see him again, wondered if she would jump into his arms or turn and flee from him. But, never had she imagined it would be like it had been this night, that time would seem to slow and stop, and all would drop away around her except those impossibly deep blue eyes. Though she fought it, her rebellious mind turned to memories of Legolas. Moraelin curled into a ball on her side, hoping she could sleep. But, the scenes kept parading through her mind. It had been during Mirkwood's Spring Festival, when she was just a small girl...
Moraelin's small feet picked a path over the cool grass as she followed the smell of cooking meat and the trilling tones of upbeat music. She could see the white light of many lamps filtering through the leaves from the front yard of the palace grounds. As Moraelin drew closer, she could smell wine and spicy dishes, and the smoke from sweetly scented candles. Large ferns grew profusely under the huge, noble trees and Moraelin stooped under their sweeping fronds. She crawled forward on her hands and knees, not noticing the dark soil that was ground into her dress.
Her father had made her promise him that she would not go to the palace and that she would stay near their home for a few days. She did not understand why she was to stay out of sight. She had watched sadly from her window as Eregos, Ilianel, and Talendil had left the house at nightfall dressed in their very finest clothes. The elf maiden that had reluctantly agreed to watch Moraelin during the festivities had snuck out when the girl pretended to sleep, and Moraelin made her own escape soon after. She knew not what else to do, she had to know what secret was being kept from her at the palace.
She heard the voices of many elves, all talking cheerily or laughing. When Moraelin finally reached the edge of clearing that faced the palace, she sat back on her heels and bobbed her head, trying to find a good view without revealing herself. Between the concealing leaves, Moraelin caught glimpses of an immense crowd of elves clad in fine clothes. The women all wore shimmering, gauzy dresses of the like Moraelin had never before seen. Her eyes widened and she smiled at the splendor before her. Growing bolder, she pushed one of the fronds aside with a tiny hand. She spotted the King and Queen sitting at the far side of the dance floor in large wooden chairs set upon a platform. They were talking quietly to one another and a rare smile broke across King Thranduil's stern face.
For a second, Moraelin was almost swept up in the exuberance of the celebration and had to fight the urge to rush between the dancing adults to Queen Myallore. The queen had always been kinder to her than even her father's young wife. Moraelin hung back, though she wanted nothing more than to approach the King and Queen now while Thranduil was in a good humor. She wished just once for the King to look at her with something other than silent contempt in his eyes.
Moraelin's brown eyes were drawn to another group that stood near the thrones. Her face fell as she recognized them as her own family. She stared at them, her father and stepmother standing very close, with Talendil in front of them. Her father's hands were resting on Talendil's thin shoulders, as if he wanted there to be no doubt that the handsome elf child was his son. The three of them made a perfect picture of an elf family, with their fine blond hair shimmering in the lamplight and their matching blue eyes full of contentment as they watched couples dancing to the cheerful flute music. They were all so beautiful together, as was every elf in that field.
Moraelin's eyes filled with hopeless tears. She knew then why she had been asked to stay at home. She did not belong with the three of them, nor with any of the glowing creatures before her. She would never fit into that ideal portrait the rest of her family made. She was about to turn aside and return to the sanctuary of her home, when she spotted one last familiar face.
A young elf boy at the other side of the dance floor had broken away from a group of youths, and to Moraelin's horror was staring right back at her. A grin filled his flawless face as he wove through the adults toward her. Moraelin turned and scurried through the undergrowth away from the celebration.
Moraelin rose and was ready to break into a run when a hand closed around her arm. She turned back quickly and hissed, "Legolas, I must go."
He frowned, hurt filling his features, "Moraelin, I've been looking for you all night, why are you not with your family? Come back with me, the Swan Feather Dance will start soon. We can watch it together."
Moraelin shook her head emphatically, "No, Legolas, I must leave. No one can know I was here, especially not my father or your father."
Legolas looked in her teary eyes, and searched her horrified face in confusion. She tore her arm from his grip and made to bolt. But, Legolas grabbed her again,
"Moraelin, wait," he smiled winningly, hoping to chase away his friend's tears, "Wait here. They have plum cakes. I could bring you some. You always liked those didn't you? And, Lord Glorfindel brought something called 'chocolate' from Imladris, you must try it."
Moraelin had stopped struggling and was looking up at him with an expression of reluctant wonder.
"I won't tell anyone you are here, all right," Legolas whispered gently.
Slowly, Moraelin nodded in agreement. Legolas stared at her for another second, then turned and ran back to the merriment. He did not understand why Moraelin was hiding in the shadows or what she was so afraid of. The Spring Festival was held only once every five years and Legolas didn't think he'd ever had such fun in all his young life. He did not know why Moraelin was not allowed to enjoy it too.
Moraelin tiptoed over to a large birch tree and leaned against its trunk. She turned to face the tree and very carefully peered around it to the palace grounds. She saw Legolas's small blond head pop up next to several refreshment tables. Moraelin grinned as she watched him. Legolas always knew just what to do to make things all right.
Legolas soon returned with a heaping plate of treats. Moraelin's previous sadness was quickly banished as she gazed upon the delicacies before her. She and Legolas sat cross-legged at the foot of the tree with the platter between them. She thanked Legolas around a mouthful of plum cake and he laughed at the blob of jelly on the side of her mouth.
"You have to watch the Swan Feather Dance. Mother told me about it. She said her and Father used to compete in it and-"
Moraelin and Legolas froze as a harsh voice piped up from near them, "I should have known you would be here with the half-elf." Moraelin winced at the label that was becoming more and more familiar. The speaker was an older elf child named Medeldir, the son of a commander. Legolas shot to his feet, "Do not call Moraelin that."
Medeldir just laughed, "But that is what she is. I heard my parents speaking of her, saying that she is half elf, half dirty, savage dwarf. I also heard the king tell my father that he would be keeping her out of sight until the guests were gone. He said he did not want word getting out that he had allowed an abomination like her to live."
Legolas's face turned a deep red, he could feel the heat spreading over his skin. His fury was fed by the sound of Moraelin sobbing softly at his feet. Legolas's hands convulsed into fists. In a sudden burst of motion, Legolas flew at the other boy. His shoulder rammed into Medeldir's middle, driving him backwards. The children collapsed in a pile of flailing arms. Legolas came out on top and began slamming his small fist into Medeldir's face. Medeldir kicked Legolas off of him and rolled over. Grabbing Legolas by the collar, he backhanded the much smaller elfling. The loud crack of the impact dragged Moraelin out of her momentary shock.
With a wild shriek, Moraelin launched herself at Medeldir, wrapping her arms and legs around his back to keep him from hitting Legolas again. But, he quickly shook the girl off of him and went for Legolas. The prince had taken the chance to regroup and tackled Medeldir again. Moraelin now grabbed Legolas's arms, trying to pull him off the other boy, "Legolas, stop!" she cried, "You've both got to stop!"
Moraelin did not even notice that the last few moments of rolling and tussling had brought the three of them to the very edge of the dance floor. Several elves stopped dancing and stared in bewilderment at the brawling children. Moraelin was still tugging on Legolas's arm with desperate tears in her eyes as Thranduil and Lord Glorfindel reached them. They tore the two boys apart, Thranduil already scolding his son for partaking in such foolishness.
Lord Glorfindel wrapped a strong arm around the older boy's waist and pulled him a few feet away. As Glorfindel finally released Medeldir, he looked down at the third child. He frowned curiously at her.
She was short and her coloring was strangely dark. Glorfindel glanced at her faded blue dress, which was torn and muddy. Leaves were stuck in her unruly black hair. Glorfindel had never seen anyone like her, especially her deep brown eyes, which he had not seen on an elf in many years. They made him think momentarily of Maeglin, the dark elf who had betrayed Gondolin, and he felt a shudder run up his spine at the memory.
Suddenly, she looked up and saw the elf lord studying her in open puzzlement. Her eyes filled with abject terror as they met his. She dashed away, her tiny form soon swallowed up by the depths of the forest, and Glorfindel was left to wonder if he had really seen her.
Moraelin's father, having spotted his daughter in the fray near the beverage table, let out a deep groan. He ran to the small crowd gathered there just in time to see Moraelin whipping through the fern fronds, her bare feet pounding lightly on the forest floor. He stopped by Thranduil's side and the king whispered to him, "I told you to keep her out of sight,"
"Then it is true," Legolas screamed. His shoulders were still in his father's steely grip, but he twisted around to look up at him, "You did want to keep Moraelin a secret, didn't you?"
Though for a second Legolas spotted genuine regret in his father's eyes, he heard, "You are in enough trouble already, Legolas. I suggest you keep quiet."
Glorfindel looked at Eregos. The captain stared with a pained and uncertain expression at the still waving fronds where the girl had disappeared.
"Eregos, who was that?" Glorfindel asked.
Mirkwood's high captain closed his eyes for a moment, and then faced Glorfindel.
"That was my daughter, Moraelin," he admitted flatly.
"Eregos, don't-" Thranduil began, but snapped his mouth shut at a warning glance from Eregos.
Despite the dark scowl building on Thranduil's face, Eregos continued, "Her mother was Kirali, daughter of Lord Rinolan of the northern realm of the dwarves. She died in bearing Moraelin."
Glorfindel's surprise was short-lived, and his eyes softened, "She is a beautiful little girl, Eregos. You should not feel you need to hide her."
Thranduil finally cut in, "I fear not everyone would be as understanding as you, Glorfindel."
Glorfindel met Thranduil's blue eyes coldly, "I think they might surprise you, Highness."
Eregos watched the terse exchange with growing concern. Then, he looked down at the young prince. Legolas stared angrily back at him, "How could you do this to Moraelin?" His child's voice rose with indignation, "Don't you know how much it hurts her to know she is different? It isn't her fault!"
Eregos knelt in front of Legolas and squeezed his shoulder. "I am sorry, Legolas," he said with true remorse. The elf then turned and sped through the trees after Moraelin.
Eregos burst into his darkened home, calling Moraelin's name breathlessly. He just hoped she had returned here and had not fled further into the forest where there were countless dangers. He rushed up the stairs, but slowed as he entered Moraelin's room. Eregos had been in countless battles, he had known great pain and watched as comrades died in his arms. But, never in his long life had he felt so wretched, felt such agony in his heart as when he saw his little daughter curled in a ball in the corner, sobbing into her hands.
Eregos crossed the room silently and bent over Moraelin. Her hair, so much like her mother's, was in wild disarray, and Eregos brushed it away from her face. Moraelin peeked up at him, her brown eyes shining with tears.
"I am sorry, Father," she choked out between sobs, "I only wanted to know what was happening outside. I am sorry I let the other elves see me. But, the older boy called me names and Legolas tackled him and then he hit Legolas. I know you are ashamed of me, that is why you do not love me anymore. "
Eregos's own eyes filled with tears as he lifted Moraelin into his arms, "Moraelin, I do love you. I will love you until the stars fade out of the sky."
"But I am the half-elf. I am cursed," Moraelin said, continuing to cry against his neck.
"Who said that you?"
"Medeldir. . .but I've heard other people call me those things before."
"Moraelin," Eregos said as he sat on the bed with Moraelin in his lap, "You are not cursed. That is nonsense; it's superstitious nonsense. I don't want you to listen to people when they say that to you." Eregos sighed and set Moraelin away from him so he could look her in the eye, "But you are only half elf, that is true. I am going to explain something to you and I want you to listen very carefully. All right, little one?" Moraelin nodded shyly.
"Moraelin, your mother was a dwarf. I have told you that before, but I have never told you what that means. I met your mother while I was on patrol. The group of travelers she was with was attacked by orcs and she was hurt. I helped her, and I brought her here. She decided to stay and become my wife. She was so happy and beautiful, just like you," Eregos pinched Moraelin's nose, making her giggle. Even after all these years without Kirali, Eregos still felt his chest constrict as he told his daughter, "But your mama died when you were born, and there was a storm that night. And, a huge fire killed much of the forest. People think because you were born at the same time that a curse follows you now. But, that is foolish. Do not believe in such a thing." Eregos took a deep breath before continuing, "The other thing you must understand is that Dwarves and Elves do not get along very well. They do not usually like each other. So, my marriage to your mother was seen as.strange. And that is why you do not look like your brother. You are half dwarf and there is no one else like you in Mirkwood."
Moraelin's lip quivered at his last words, but Eregos smiled, "That is why you are so special, Moraelin. We all look the same, but you, Moraelin, you stand out, you shine. You are my little star."
Moraelin hugged her father and he gathered her into his embrace again. Eregos sighed shakily, still fighting tears. He hated seeing his daughter in such pain, but he also knew this was only the beginning. Moraelin's life would not be an easy one. Eregos ran a careful hand over her hair. Both of his parents had been healers, and although he had never been anything but a warrior, he had somehow inherited their gift for soothing the wounded with merely a touch. It was not long before Moraelin was sleeping peacefully against him.
Eregos adored his son; Talendil was strong and charismatic, that was clear even though he was very young. But, there was a part of Eregos's heart that would belong only to his eldest child. She was all that remained of Kirali. And, when Kirali had died, Eregos had apprehensively faced the fact that he was all Moraelin had. She would need him to look after her, to shield her as best he could from the prejudices of others. With that thought heavy on his mind, Eregos leaned against the headboard and slipped into a troubled sleep.
When Moraelin next awoke, it was to the sound of urgent whispering, "Moraelin. Wake up, will you? Moraelin!" She sat up, finding her father had gone to his own room to sleep, and Legolas was hauling himself awkwardly into her second story window.
"Come on, Moraelin. I'm not going to let my tyrant father ruin this Spring Festival for the both of us. Let's go."
"How did you get here, Legolas?"
He smiled that charming devil's smile of his, "I snuck out of the palace through the root cellar, then I climbed up the trellis to your room."
"Your face is hurt," Moraelin frowned deeply at him. His upper lip was badly swollen where Medeldir had hit him.
"Mother said it will be all right. Come, we have to go."
"We will just get in more trouble, Legolas."
"Ideally, yes," he said, his smile widening, "Come on, we'll miss the Swan Feather Dance if we do not hurry."
Her tiny face tightened with worry, but finally she sighed. She rose from the bed and went to Legolas. He turned so she could climb onto his back. He then crawled back out the window and shimmied down the trellis as Moraelin clung nervously to him. When they were on the ground, Legolas reached for her hand and they ran together through the darkness.
"What is the Goose Feather Dance?" Moraelin whispered as they slowed to a walk, the dance floor very near. Her hand was still held protectively in Legolas's larger palm.
"Swan Feather. Mother said it is the last event of every Spring Festival and is a dance some couples train for centuries to perfect. Mother and Father used to dance in it and they were very good, but now they just judge it at every Festival. She said if I found a good partner and worked hard, I might dance in it someday too."
The children kneeled among the gnarled roots of an ancient tree, just beyond the ring of light illuminating the dance floor. The ancient tradition of the Swan Feather Dance was held in high regard by all the elves of Mirkwood and beyond, and a great crowd of them surrounded the dance floor to view the event. Legolas and Moraelin, however, were just behind the thrones of the King and Queen, and had a clear view of the dancers.
It was already in progress as they settled in, and Moraelin soon found herself absolutely transfixed by the spectacle before her. The male dancers were dressed in white and silver, with masks of feathers obscuring their faces. Elf maidens in beautiful white dresses accented in delicate swan feathers and sparkling white gems spun around them. And, with a swiftness that took Moraelin's breath away, the male dancers would toss their partner in the air, where the maidens would execute elaborate flips and twists before landing lightly again in his arms. The fluid control of every motion, the flawless coordination of each dancer with his or her partner was like art. Moraelin gasped as one elf maiden was thrown several feet higher than those around her, and Legolas glanced over at her upon hearing the sound. Seeing the awe and joy beaming from her face, he smiled brightly. After what had happened that night, his heart was lightened to see true happiness on the girl's face again.
All too quickly, each pair did one more spectacular throw and the music abruptly ended. The dancers stood for a moment, some staring deeply into each other's eyes, the countless feathers on the maiden's dresses still fluttering restlessly. After a moment of silence, a deafening applause rose up from the gathered elves. King Thranduil stood, his eyes soft as he took his wife's arm. They approached a pair of dancers, the male an exceptionally tall Silvan with golden hair and his partner a small elf maiden with a gentle smile. The King and Queen stood before them as quiet fell again. Then, the King did something Legolas had never seen him do before. He dropped to one knee and bowed before the pair. They were the winners, and he honored them humbly. Cheers filled the clearing again and the winning elves thanked the King graciously. They then shared a deep kiss, as elves rushed forward to congratulate them.
Moraelin felt Legolas watching her again. She still felt dazed by the magnificent sight she had just witnessed. She met his blue eyes, and said simply, "I want to do that."
"You do?" Legolas said, cocking his head to the side curiously.
"We should. Oh, Legolas, let me be your partner. We could work every single day. I would work hard, I would learn to do all those things they did...only better. We would do it all better!"
Legolas smiled widely, enjoying the excitement in Moraelin's large eyes. "All right. We will practice. And that will be us someday, Father will be bowing before us."
For years, they had practiced in secret, stealing away into the forest to learn the difficult maneuvers needed for the dance. And, when Legolas had first stepped onto the dance floor of the Spring Festival with his mystery partner, the uproar it caused had bordered on scandal.
Moraelin remembered shuffling her feet uncertainly as everyone around her murmured in anger or shock. She had seen the venomous scowl on the King's face as he saw her. But, she had then dared to glance at her father and her brother where they stood not far away. As she met Eregos's eyes, he smiled at her with obvious pride and love. "You look beautiful," he mouthed to her, and she straightened her back, knowing that it did not matter what other elves said, it did not matter if they lost. Eregos and Legolas cared for her, and at that moment, that was more than enough.
Thranduil had watched the dancing with a brooding frown, determined that Legolas and Moraelin would not be champions. But, they so obviously dominated the other dancers, their moves daring and innovative, that they were victorious beyond any doubt. Legolas had now grown into a fierce warrior, and his quickness and feline grace were fully developed. Moraelin was also trained in the arts of war, giving her agility beyond that of most other female elves. She was compact but exceptionally strong and had no fear of the dangerous throws Legolas challenged her with. When the music stopped, Thranduil rose slowly, his movements as lithe and controlled as those of his son. He approached Moraelin and Legolas and nodded to them, but he refused to bow. As applause built all around them, at first reluctant but soon growing in enthusiasm, Moraelin looked sharply into Thranduil's eyes. It was clear that the girl would not soon forget that affront, and her lip curled into a smirk of supreme confidence. She then turned to Legolas, who lifted her in his arms and swung her around with joy, her black hair flowing in sharp contrast to the white swan feathers nestled in it.
Over four more Spring Festivals, Legolas and Moraelin were triumphant, but Thranduil would never kneel before the girl. For more than twenty years, she and Legolas were the greatest dancers in all the realm. It was not long before she noticed that most of the couples they competed against were husband and wife, that the dance was an expression of the deep love they shared. She knew it was the same for her, but that her's was a doomed love. The Prince of Mirkwood could never truly love a being such as herself, she knew that. But, more and more she stole glances at him as he sparred with other warriors or stood proudly at his father's side. Of course she loved him, he was so easy to fall in love with. But, who was she to desire an elf of such standing?
The last time they danced the Swan Feather Dance, Moraelin stood again before the cold eyes of Thranduil, as Legolas held tightly to her hand. They stayed and received congratulations from those around them, both got a fond kiss on the cheek from Myallore, and finally Legolas pulled Moraelin away, dragging her toward the deeper forest.
"Legolas, where are we going?" she giggled, a giddiness still filling her being at their win. Her father had fallen in battle a few years earlier, and her heart still carried the deep wounds. But, the dance seemed to ease her pain. Everyone expected them to be the best after all these years, but Moraelin still adored the feeling of flying through the sky, knowing the earth no longer bound her to its harsh face. She loved seeing Legolas's beautiful, pure smile shine down upon her as the dance ended. They were far into the trees now, the noise of the festivities a dim hum behind them. She could see the sharp lines of Legolas's face in the moonlight as he stopped and turned to her. He took her other hand in his, and Moraelin's smile faded. Legolas's eyes were burning into hers with some nameless emotion.
"Moraelin," he whispered, brushing a stray piece of hair from her cheek. She stared up at him, her eyes wide with alarm and excitement. As his face descended toward hers, everything within her went very still. She could have never dreamed such a fate might be hers, to receive her first kiss from such a magnificent creature as Legolas. His lips were tentative, moving over hers uncertainly, as he placed a shaking hand on the small of her back. For a moment, Moraelin could do nothing, not even close her eyes. But, as she felt Legolas begin to pull away in disappointment, she broke out of her stupor and quickly gripped the back of his neck. She kissed him back then, with the same reckless passion that she did everything. Just as Legolas tilted his head to deepen the kiss, all juvenile hesitance forgotten, a voice echoed through the trees.
"Legolas! Moraelin! Are you out here?"
The musical sound of Myallore's voice caused the pair to break apart quickly, and Moraelin stepped back so fast she nearly tripped over a tree root. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with vulnerable astonishment.
Breathlessly, Legolas whispered, "We must talk Moraelin... there is something I must speak with you about. But, not now, not here. Father and Talendil have asked me to lead a patrol along the river for a few days, but when I return..."
They had never had that talk. Two days later, Talendil had banished Moraelin from Greenwood. She thought of that kiss often, so brief and yet so meaningful. As she sat alone on a mountainside or huddled shivering next to weathered ruins, she had wondered if Legolas had loved her the way she loved him. She was haunted, tormented by the possibility that they had been so close to finding happiness with each other, only to have it torn away by one cold sentence from Talendil: "You are not wanted here."
