I finally got around to writing the new chapter, yay! So the thing you have to know about Anthilesse is that for years (since the Fall of Nargothrond) she's been pretty much cleaning up the messes of war by working as a healer in her brother's army camps. The very notion of doing something entirely for herself is quite foreign, and it may take some 'gentle' prodding to get her comfortable with the idea.
The encampment had been dwindling noticeably day by day since the final battle of the Last Alliance. First it had been the elves of Lorien departing as one force. Then the army of Men under the command of Isildur had left with scarcely a word of farewell to the remaining elves. By the time the folk of Imladris disappeared over the horizon with a fluttering of blue banners, only a small gathering of tents remained overlooking the plains of Dagorlad. Come evening even these would be gone.
The Noldor elves had already begun their departure the night before. In small groups and larger parties, the Exiles stole away by shadowed paths that would eventually lead them westward to the Havens. When the time came for the Greenwood folk to turn homewards, there were only a handful of tents flying Noldo color remaining.
Gurithon had been thoroughly scandalized when Thranduil had voiced his intent to ride his horse that morning. 'My king, you cannot possibly!' and 'Your wounds will not permit it!' were the chief arguments made, and made repeatedly. The captain was joined in his campaign by Siroth, the Sindarin healer whom Oropher had always included in his retinue. Between the two, Thranduil had finally been persuaded to at least begin the long journey northwards riding in a litter.
When the young king was helped out from the healers' tent on the arms of both Gurithon and another of his warriors, Thranduil supposed he could be grateful to at least be walking now. Still, each step was slow and labored. The effort of staying upright despite the throbbing of his chest and shoulder was significant. Thranduil was almost thankful to recline on the cushioned litter set up for pulling between the harnesses of four mounted riders.
With a glance around at his people, Thranduil supposed it really must be time to leave. All of the Greenwood survivors were assembled, and looked to their king with a contained eagerness. They all wished to quit this place of sorrow and return home to their forest. With one last look across the plains to the burial grounds of the Last Alliance, Thranduil gave the order. It was time to go.
"My Lord Thranduil, look!" exclaimed Eneniel, one of their Silvan archers.
Following Eneniel's long white finger, Thranduil and many others turned. The final Noldor tent collapsed...and was rapidly bound up by a handful of elves. With this final dismantling of the encampment, Anthelísse gathered her followers to her and approached. Thranduil sat up straighter (as straight as his shoulders would permit) to greet the elven lady.
"Lady Anthelísse, do you journey west then?" he asked. "Or have you considered my invitation?" Thranduil could scarcely dare to breath, much less hope.
With one dozen Noldor elves behind her, Anthelísse spoke both to Thranduil and the elves of the Greenwood assembled.
"I have...and I accept your invite, King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm. Myself and those still remaining wish to both see your forest homeland and impose upon your hospitality for a time." A slight movement quirked the corner of Anthelísse's lips in a half-smile. "We shall see if the Greenwood truly does rival the mystery of the Blessed Realm."
Thranduil could have cheered aloud. He was a king now though, albeit a youthful one. He couldn't keep the pleasure from shining clear across his face when he replied.
"You and your folk are most welcome then, my lady. May I offer you a place here beside me?" Thranduil indicated the spacious litter, doing his best to recline upon the cushions in an inviting rather than painful way.
Anthelísse shook her head. "I thank you for the offer, but will ride alongside." Suddenly, a wry gleam came to her sea-blue eyes. "You and my horse shall simply have to share my company. Besides, is it not customary for a litter to be accompanied by a rider?"
Gurithon gave a choked sound from nearby that was no doubt the smothered remnants of a chortle. Indeed it was often the custom that when an unacquainted pair traveled together with a litter, one would ride outside on horseback. Usually it was the other way round of the current situation though, with the lady in the litter and the lord on the horse!
Resisting the urge to elbow the captain, Thranduil acknowledged the gentle hit with a feigned wince. "Yes, indeed it is Lady Anthelísse. Shall we depart then?"
"My people are ready as yours are."
They moved as one company; Silvan, Sindarin and a handful of Noldor elves. Of their presence they left no trace on that lonely bluff. The Eldar would never love that land, not then or ever. Even the markers of the graves on the plains beyond left no softened memories for them to carry back in their hearts. They were all more than glad to quit the plain of Daglorlad for good, and never look back.
As they travelled, Thranduil for a time struggled to find a clever way to engage the Lady of the Noldor in conversation. Everything that came to mind sounded inane or foolish to him though upon closer examination. So, he instead contented himself to study the other Noldorin elves Anthelísse had in her company.
They were a polar people; that was for certain. Sindarin elves as a rule tended to be fair of hair and eye, some going all the way to silver-haired as was common for the folk of Lothlorien. Silvan elves on the other hand were usually of the same coloring as their forest homeland. Most had hair in varying shades of brown, although the occasional auburn and even red could be seen among the ranks. The Noldor seemed to have elements of both the lightness of the Sindarin and the darkness of the Silvan. Most in fact were dark of hair; five with raven black tresses and four so dark brown it was difficult to say. The other three like Anthelísse however were so golden blonde that they shone in the sunlight. If Thranduil recalled correctly, Gil-Galad himself had been dark-headed. It fascinated him then that the High King's younger sister should be so different in appearance.
Watching Anthelísse ride in the pale sunlight was like seeing music with one's eyes. The Noldor lady's arms and legs were long and lean, her frame moving with unconscious ease with the rolling gait of the horse. As she rode alongside, Thranduil found himself unabashedly studying her profile.
Keenly aware of Thranduil's eyes upon her, Anthelísse kept looking straight ahead. She knew well enough just where the Sindarin king's head and heart were at. Until she could say the same of her own though, she intended to keep some distance between the two of them. 'We are only going to stay for a time in the Greenwood, just to see more of Arda before we depart.' She told herself.
Aislinn, one of her handmaidens sidled her horse up to Anthelísse's on the side opposite the litter. "My lady, if I may?" she asked, indicating with a light toss of her midnight-black tresses a desire for privacy.
"Yes Aislinn, what is it?" Anthelísse asked, pulling up on her rein just slightly to put some space between them and the sharp ears of King Thranduil.
"Why are you delaying our departure from the Havens? You know I will gladly follow you anywhere, even if that means ignoring the summons of Valinor. But what is it that you intend in the Woodland Realm?"
Ordinarily such questions would not be expected from a servant to their liege. Aislinn had been Anthelísse's companion for so many centuries now that any distance between them existed only for the sake of the public eye. In private they remained just two elleths whom had grown up together Nargothrond.
Anthelísse had no good answer to that, and Aislinn of course saw through the excuse she had given the others the night before. These twelve elves who had remained by her side were loyal to her above all else, even the summons of the Valar back to the Blessed Realm after so many hundreds of years of exile. When Anthelísse told them of her intention to travel north and stay a time in the Greenwood, none of them had questioned her. She had been wondering how long it would take Aislinn to enquire deeper though.
"Perhaps it is because I am not yet ready to leave Middle-Earth behind for good." Anthelísse said, nudging her horse smoothly to avoid the head of a marching column of archers. "Once we sail, we will never return to this world again. Perhaps I am curious what more there is here upon these shores."
Aislinn raised an eyebrow. The breeze caught an edge of her dark purple cloak and sent it fluttering; a splash of color in the drabness of the landscape. "What...more like 'Whom'." With a keen twitch of her grey eyes toward the litter, Aislinn smiled.
Instantly Anthelísse felt color rising in her cheeks. "I'm sure I have no idea what you mean." She answered perhaps too hastily.
Catching the waving corner of her cloak and tucking it back into its clasp, Aislinn clucked her tongue. "Anthelísse, you've been caring for the wounded and following your brother's campaigns ever since the fall of Nargothrond. You cannot possibly imagine that any one of us, either here or in Valinor would begrudge you pursuing a bit of personal happiness?"
Anthelísse gave her handmaiden and friend a rather sharp look. "Gil-Galad is dead, and if happiness is not what we were seeking when we fought against Sauron then whatever did so many die for anyways?"
With a sigh, Aislinn rolled her eyes. "Have it your way, my lady. Your obligations to the war and the Last Alliance are over now though, and I urge you to remember that. I am not in any hurry to ride for the Havens, nor are the rest of us."
Both irritated and privately cheered to have such nosey companions at her side, Anthelísse gave her horse a nudge to move into a space between the battalions. There she rode in silence for a time, alone with her thoughts while surrounded by Greenwood soldiers. When an hour later she dropped back and dismounted to walk next to the litter, Thranduil greeted her with a disarming smile.
"Lady Anthelísse."
"Lord Thranduil. If you don't mind, I would be glad to take you up on the offer of a seat in the litter. One can only ride so many hours in a day before going saddle-sore, after all."
Thranduil's smile could have lit up even the depths of Mordor.