Dear Readers,
I want to thank you all so much for your patience. Over the last month and a half, I have been very busy with school. It was my senior semester and, as you may know, that required all of my efforts. Here is the latest chapter in Tauriel's travels. Hope you enjoy it. And thank you so much for your messages of support once again.
~Anariel RR
Dearest Book,
The following words are of what occurred this day past…
I see his eyes watching me intently, hungry and purposeful as he does so. Ever since the night where I admitted the undeniable truth to him, I have felt a twinge of guilt. I have avoided him as best I can. Ever was he a mystery to me. Yet now as I have been intimate with him and he with me, I see him truly for who and what he is. The dimples that appear on his cheeks when he smiles are particularly charming and I can now see the emotion clearly in his features.
As Ninimmien moves reverentially to the altar, the soft white silk of her gown sighs behind her. She wears atop her head a finely wrought diadem of interwoven silver and fine milky white gems. As I witness the procession to the altar, I am reminded of a swan for they are fair and Ninimmien is yet fair. With a pang I recall that in so little a time, now less than a year, I will be wed. I will be lady to Galhanar, the son of a mighty Sindarin lord. It is apparent to all concerned that I am of inferior birth but this arrangement in celebrated by many. His father rejoices utterly as I am sure that the King does. If I am pledged to another, I shall no longer be a contender for Legolas's affections. I know for sure that many consider it a case of charity, my marrying Galhanar. A mixed-blood Silvan Elf is rare to rise up in the King's favor and it is even rarer for one to wed one of pure Sindarin blood. It is a hope on the behalf of many that if we procreate and produce an heir, that he not have the mischievous curve of my ears.
I am attendant to the bride and am garbed in a dress of royal purple silk. It feels strange, almost alien to me to be dressed in such a fashion. Only ever do I wear varying shades of green, some brown, and occasionally, a gown of white during the celebratory holy days of our people. I hold within my hands later autumnal blossoms, the bouquet clutched tightly between my fingers. I hold them so tightly that my own knuckles are ghostly white and my face is equally as white. Although I wear a smile upon my face, I tremble at the thought of my own wedding. Ninimmien is able to wed the man that she loves, Laerorn. While I must pledge my life to a man who I esteem but who I am not entirely sure that I can ever love. I see the face of Galhanar distinctly against the crowd, the chiseled features, the tall stature, the bright shining eyes, and the regal manner to him. He looks at me and smiles approvingly, his eyes taking in my form in a manner of appreciative appraisal. I feel all of a sudden overcome with emotions and I feel my devotion to Legolas, for while I see that Galhanar watches me, I can feel that Legolas studies me. We stand across from each other. He wears some of his best robes, robes of deep royal blue with silver embroidery on his tunic. He looks fetchingly handsome and sports that princely diadem that causes Laerorn's silvery diadem to look largely inferior. He has such a bearing to him, a gentle face, a smile as he gazes at Laerorn. Laerorn is nervous and this is the first I have ever seen him so. For centuries I have known him and ever was he my teach, along with Legolas. Never had I seen Laerorn shaken so much. Who knew that it would be his wedding day that would make him uneasy? For once he does not wear that arrogant smirk that graces his face almost perpetually and he seems almost humbled. All of this causes me to want to laugh and then I think of the jokes that many will make at the celebration this evening. Legolas wears this smile when he sees Laerorn but when his silvery gaze flickers over to me, his face grows steadily serious and I can see within his eyes a longing, a yearning. It causes goose bumps to ripple across my flesh and I cannot help but to blush and to look away. However, I must stand tall and to be prepared to meet the bride. It is my position to ensure that Ninimmien's gown is arranged in a delicate way and to ensure that she appears fair to all who gaze upon her.
When the words are spoken and the rings are exchanged, it is time for their hands to be bound together in a handfasting. At its conclusion, now husband and wife turn about to the deafening applause of the crowd, everyone clapping, some even in tears. It is then that they make their descent away from the aisle and towards ceremonial chamber. During this time, I must hook my arm in Legolas's arm and I strive so hard to not turn crimson in the face. Legolas positively beams when we touch and I can see an electric shock, something that surges through both of us. At that moment, I can glimpse upon the face of aran vuin Thranduil a sour expression and that his lips are pursed together quite carefully. His displeasure could fill the room if given the chance. When we wander into the chamber after Laerorn and Ninimmien, I can see that the stars are already out, tiny pinpricks of light to grace our presence. Once announced, Lord and Lady of Immervale, Laerorn leads his bride to the dance floor and immediately they spin about with such grace. Music is playing and it is a solemn occasion. Two souls have been joined together in Taur-e-Ndaedelos and they are a match desired by many. Once a certain chord of music is played, Legolas and I smile. We immediately know that it is our turn to follow Laerorn and Ninimmien in a flurry of dancing. Ninimmien glides about the floor as if she was born to do so, her beaded silk gown with yards of lace sigh about the floor. Erstwhile I take hold of Legolas's hand and he guides me about the dance floor, despite the fact that I am rather clumsy at best. Elves are viewed as being graceful in their movements, which often we are. However, I have little grace when it comes to movement in dancing and I cannot fathom doing this any other time than when bid to do so by my best friend.
"You have been avoiding me." Legolas speaks the words that shock me and I look at him for a moment, sighing softly. It is inescapable now. There is no way to slip away, no excuse to use. Legolas has me utterly trapped like a bird in a cage. This time I decide to face him, eyeing him squarely.
"I do not know what you speak of." I say softly, her fingers as white as my face. His fingers give my fingers a quick squeeze and he smiles for a moment at me, a knowing smile, the smile he has always worn when he knew I was bluffing.
"Oh come now, Tauriel. We have known each other for a very long time…" He leads us in the dance and I follow, my own gown swishing about in a cloud of purple silk.
"My entire life…" I interject with a playful smile.
"A long time, indeed. You declare that you love me, Tauriel and yet when we have been…intimate…you flee from me." His words are soft like the silk of my dress and at that moment, I can feel the soft feather texture of his hair. He spins me about. At that moment, I have exactly no clue what to say. He is right.
"I am promised to Galhanar." The words elicit forth from my mouth involuntarily and I feel a pang within my heart. "It isn't right…" I say to further remind him. Legolas's hand loosens a little on my hand before it clenches tighter, his gaze meeting my straight-on and intense as it always is. I can see the battle waged behind his eyes. He has feelings for me…love for me just as I have love for him…yet we are both of us honor-bound to respect a pact made before all.
"But I lo -" His voice as smooth as the most refined watery silk.
"Please…" I breathe almost inaudibly, my own eyes misty as we spin about. The music so utterly moving and touching but it only succeeds in deepening the thorn within my heart. A moment later, there is yet another burst of applause and all dancing ceases for the chief of the moment. I long to touch him further and I can feel Legolas's fingers brush against my own, holding them tightly in his grip. As if out of nowhere, Galhanar suddenly appears and he offers me his arm, which I am obliged to take. I muster the falsest smile that I can manage and then gaze behind me as I am led away to a great banquet table. All of the attendants of Ninimmien, her three sisters, her two cousins, and I settle at the same table, not too far from the bride and groom. This is the time of the celebration where toasts are made in honor of the bride and the groom. Laerorn sits in a high-backed chair carved in the finest beech wood and Ninimmien sits in a chair well-nigh identical except her chair has a decoration of elder blossoms. Both sit proudly, her hand within his hand as they gaze on as their loved ones and most devoted friends make toast after toast. Many stories are spoken of how Laerorn is a great warrior, Ninimmien a great beauty, how they both met, how they are perfect with one another as well as the hilarious stories. One such tale featured Laerorn who, when twelve knew not how to nock an arrow to the bow properly and how he mistakenly shot his father in the behind. Galhanar grinned, applauding at the right times, but he could scarcely take his eyes off of me.
"You are ravishing this day, hiril nin." His voice is line a clang of brass to Legolas's fine wine-smooth voice. It is clamorous to me and painful. He is a pleasant man with a good heart, one who any woman would be proud to call her lord. But I? Am I to take him as my husband? I flush a deep red and glance away, fighting my desire to flee from the room. The coward that I am…I seek to flee from occasions like this.
"De vilui." I mutter courteously, robotically. I am not a great lady as was my mother, as is Ninimmien. I am simple and plain – a child of the forest.
"Thîr vain gîn palan-hinthen…" He whispers the words gently, his words anything but comforting to me. His hands brush up against my cheek and I can feel the warmth of his hand. I stare at him wide-eyed, as if he had made the declaration that he wants to adventure into Mordor.
"Hîr nin…" I utter ceremoniously. "Û-Sí…" I recoil from him, shaking my head. It is the eve of Mereth-en-Giliath, the most sacred feast of starlight and here I am, with my betrothed. I feel utterly encaged. Gazing off in the distance, I can see Legolas, his silvery eyes settled upon me, witnessing the situation in which I am in. I blush now, unsure of how to react. The first moment that I can leave the chamber, I excuse myself for a moment, stating that I lost some beading on my gown.
Without thinking twice, I move to leave the hall, crossing the bridge to the great oaken doors. The guard who sees me offers a bow of his head in a demure gesture, seeming quizzical as to why I am going into the woods yet again. Tears stream slowly down my cheeks, hesitant at first before they begin to cascade as a waterfall does. The further I adventure into the woods, I do not think of such things as safety or a sense of duty. My mind is burdened by far too many things to fully function. The only thought I can imagine is that I hope that Legolas shall follow me out of the Great Hall and into the woods.
Yet as I wander up a deep hill, a hand reaches out and grabs me. I can see instantly that the hand is grayish and that a second hand is clasped over my mouth. At that moment, I smell a terrible stench and words are whispered, "Sha…sha…I have you now…"
It all goes black.
Sindarin Dictionary:
Aran vuin – Our King
De vilui – Thank you (Literally: You are kind)
Hîr nin – My Lord
Hiril nin – My Lady
Mereth-en-Giliath – Feast of Starlight
Taur-e-Ndaedelos – Greenwood the Great
Thîr vain gîn palan-hinthen. – Your beauty is famous.
Û-Sí – Not here