The Princess of Mirkwood

by Skylark C

Nemlas is the younger twin of Legolas, and Princess of Mirkwood. She travels with her brother and volunteers to destroy the Ring, and goes along with the Fellowship. She will discover things about her unknown mother that will strike her and her twin hard. In the end, the hardest problem to conquer, won't be about the Ring...

1. Chapter 1: Journey

We ride quickly through the forest. My twin Legolas and I have been sent by our father, Thranduil to go to the council of Elrond.

I for one have never been in much favor of politics, and I would rather have been born of another mother, than the one I have, but then again, no one knows who our mother is. For all I know, she might not even be an elf.

I look around and see the forest beginning to thin out. The light brightens as we ride out of Mirkwood. I see a river a head and then in the distance the Misty Mountains, where we have to travel through to get to Elrond.

After riding on horseback through the mountains for a day, we come out of a pass to see Rivendell. The beautiful buildings take my breath away. The waterfalls behind it seem so beautiful.

We ride over the bridge to see the elves living there, peacefully, most not thinking about the problems about to be discussed.

I see that a few men have just arrived by horseback and watch as a few dwarves arrive right after us. I give a small sneer at the dwarves, but they don't notice.

We are welcomed right into Rivendell and I wander around, waiting for the council to take place tomorrow.

Later that night, I come across a mural on the wall of a man taking on Sauron. I turn around to see the shards of a sword in a shallow basin. I notice Aragorn sitting off to the side, with a book, and a man I saw arrive earlier today comes up behind me.

I acknowledge their presence and proceed to examine the sword. I remember a story I once heard about the downfall of Sauron and realize the sword is Narsil, the sword that was once held by Elendil and his son, Isildur.

The man who came after me comes over and picks up the handle. I scowl at him, but he ignores me, as such men of noble families do to women. He touches the blade and accidentally cuts himself, the idiot.

He drops the handle and goes away. Aragorn comes quickly over and picks the handle up, placing it delicately back in the basin with the rest of the sword. I smile, knowing that even though this sword should come to his ownership, he takes notice of it but doesn't want it. Just as I am heir to the throne of the woodland realm (after my brother of course) but I do not wish to be the heir and care nothing for politics.

I continue my evening wanderings and by the morning, I almost forget the moment with the men and Narsil.