Author's Note: So sorry to not have updated for two weeks (maybe more?). College, GE's and tests jumped my like a pack of spiders. Anyway here's the next chapter. Enjoy.
The season had shifted to springtime and Greenwood the Great was alive with new blossoms and many a creature frolicking in winter's thaw. The trees swayed softly in the breeze while birds sang sweetly to any who might listen. The aroma of lavender and tulips along with orange blossoms wafted throughout the whole of the forest while the gentle filtering of sunlight through the brilliant green leaves cast an emerald hue across everything beneath the trees. Himelon had barely had time to take note of the change before there was a soft rasp on the door. This was something the raven haired elf had come accustomed to as of late. Ever since coming back from the healers it had been like this. Every morning, just after he had awoken, there would be a soft knock on the door. Gliding over to the wonderfully adorned doors Himelon slowly peeled them open to reveal a single flower laying on the doorstep. No one was around and there was no trace that someone had just been there. This is how it had been going as well. Every day it was a new flower or the occasional leaf or berry branch. Today it was a sprig of lavender that lay so elegantly on the floor and as always it had a silver ribbon tied around it. Gingerly picking the bloom up and disappearing back into the depth of the room Himelon set to weaving the flower and ribbon into his hair. Anyone's guess as to who left the gifts and what purpose they served might have been better than that of the raven haired elf. Himelon did not know who left them or why they were there but he did enjoy putting them in his hair. It never failed that they wove ever so well with his mithril circlet. The raven haired elf stopped and chuckled at himself in the mirror when he caught sight of his reflection.
"If I keep putting flowers in my hair like this," Himelon laughed softly, "the whole of Arda will surely mistake me for a wood elf." Shaking his head the raven haired male turned and slid out the door and passed the guards currently prohibiting anyone from leave the palace. Ever since the flowers had begun appearing Thranduil had been, well, scarce to say the least. Himelon thought that there was maybe only one time that he had seen the Elven King since having been walked back from the healers. In the mean time Himelon had taken to wandering the forest and occasionally down into Laketown and once even going so far as Dale. The raven haired elf found it humorous that distances he thought close many elves of Greenwood considered far. Himelon had just chalked it up to the fact that he was used to traveling over the whole of Arda and they were not. None the less the raven haired elf had taken to wandering whether his hosts liked it or not. On this particular spring day the raven haired elf had begun following a small creek that cut through the deeper and less traversed parts of Greenwood. The water itself seemed more blue and its gurgling almost could have been soft laughter. Until the sun was low in the sky Himelon had followed the creek wherever it may go. From the heights near the palace all the way into a deep dark valley adorned with thorny rose bushed. Every rose seemed a different color and they almost seemed to glow.
Upon noting the hour Himelon let himself fall gently onto a nearby rock and dipped his feet into the pool the creek had eventually become. The pool itself swirled and shone with many different shades of greens and blues due to the gem-like pebbles that made up its bottom. The pool was no more than waist deep but looked rather inviting to the raven haired elf. He had been wandering around all day and was, quite frankly, very warm. Unlike most of him kin Himelon was rather sensitive to temperature. In the sense that he found environments warmer the sixty-two degrees to be exceedingly unpleasant. Without so much as a second thought the raven haired male removed his clothes and hung them up in a nearby tree while he slipped into the cool embrace of the pool. He floated there for what seemed like an eternity and the only signal that too much time had elapsed was the absence of the sun in the sky. Where golden light had bathed the forest in green, silver light now bathed it in lush blues that made the flowers growing around the pool grow even brighter. Going against his better judgment to re-dress and go back the way he came, Himelon gathered his garments, bow and blade under his left arm and on his right hip and ventured ever further into the deep forest.
As his path along where the creek had been flowing grew darker and darker Himelon got the sense that he was not really alone out in the woods. Before he had much time to think on it however the raven haired elf came across a clearing and a path that led to what appeared to be the ruins of an ancient shrine or perhaps even dwelling place. There were two door. On the right was a carving of Oromë, or Araw, depending on who was identifying him. The wood was birch wood and aromatic cedar and, despite being a bit worn with time, shone with a light of its own. It was inlaid with exquisite gems and was being held shut my mighty and ancient spells. On the left was carved the visage of Mandos, or Námo, depending on who was identifying him. As with the right door the left was adorned with glittering gems and kept shut by ancient and powerful spells. Unlike the right door however the left was made of deep, rich mahogany and fragrant pine intertwined. Smiling softly Himelon ran his fingers down both of the designs of the door and hummed and distantly familiar tune softly. These sorts of buildings were common in the very early ages of Middle Earth. Many elves had liked to build tributes to the Valar and it made sense to have one dedicated to Oromë and Mandos in Greenwood. Oromë being The Huntsman of the Valar, and The Great Rider and liking to hunt in the forests of Arda on occasion made him a shoe-in for a Silvan elf favorite. While the visage of Mandos was more of a nod to the Sindar royalty of the woodland realm. Being the Judge of the Dead, the Master of Doom and keeper of the souls of elves made him rather important to the more spiritual side of elves.
"Mandos should have a smaller smile," Himelon mused softly investigating the hinge of the door, "He's not exactly one to smile very much." Upon finding no way to force the door open Himelon turned his eyes back to the sky. It was long passed sunset and he likely would not make it back to the palace before sunrise even if he ran through most of the night. He wasn't exactly familiar with this part of Greenwood and hardly thought it wise to go running through a forest without knowing where he was going. Taking a deep breath Himelon began trying any and every password he could think of regarding the Valar. He tried every tongue from black speech to Westron and everything in between. It wasn't until the raven haired male simply tried saying "open door" in Valarin that they creaked open to reveal lavish rooms within. The right was adorned with green and gold while the left was bathed in blue and silver.
"Guess I'll stay here for the night," Himelon sighed as he entered the left room and flopped down on the bed still fully unclothed. No sooner had the raven haired elf begun to sleep was he awoken again by a soft scraping on the door. Growling softly Himelon opened the door to see who or what it was more out of habit that anything. Much to the raven haired male's surprise there stood, just beyond the threshold of the door, a pure white elk that stood much taller than any of its brown kin and seemed to have an odd glint in its eye. For a moment Himelon had anticipated the beast to speak but instead it simply inclined its head to the left. Getting the unsettling feeling that it was trying to get a better look at him Himelon retrieved part of his garment that he'd left by the door and wrapped his lower torso in it. For a moment the white elk almost seemed disappointed before trying to muscle its way inside the room.
"Well if you wanted in," Himelon half-laughed as he made way for the elk, "you could've just said so." Investigating the whole of the room, as best it could with its antlers' girth, the elk finally decided on laying down by the side of the bed where it could rest its head on the mattress.
"That's odd," the raven haired elf mused as he shut the door and crawled back into the bed, "I wouldn't think and elk would care where it lays its head." An indignant snort and toss of the head was all Himelon got as a reply. Shaking his head and letting out a chuckle the raven haired elf patted the elk softly on the head and curled up under the icy blue satin sheets with his back to the peculiar creature.