Building Ithilien

A host of elves led the champions back toward the oval great chamber of the Galadhrim. There the five archers bowed before the Lord and Lady in the green and silver hall. Haldir and Eledhel found themselves wishing that they would not leave wet marks on the floor.

"We praise you, lords and lady," Lord Celeborn greeted them, "and commend you before all on your skill shown today. Let the names of Prince Legolas, First Marshal Eledhel, Lady Miredhel, Captain Haldir, Belegil, and Farothin be remembered even unto our last days." Many elves had joined the presentation and lightly applauded. The great hall seemed to have a calming effect over everybody, and the jubilance that had marked the contest faded into reverence.

As soon as Lady Miredhel had joined the others, she felt small amidst the grandeur of the great chamber and the ethereal Lord and Lady. She glanced at her companions. They were true warriors. Today, she had performed with the finest accuracy in all her years, but she felt unworthy to be here, in this place, with them. On many occasions she had seen Eledhel or his friends receive praise in front of the court. They had fought hard against the foes of the Galadhrim and deserved the attention of the Lord and Lady, but not her, not now. She stole a fleeting look at the prince. He looked so regal. She had thought him proud, arrogant even. Now she saw him as he was, the son of Thranduil king, the elven hope of the Nine Companions. If he was proud, did he not have every right to be? She tore her eyes away and faced Lady Galadriel. The Lady seemed to know her mind, and Miredhel allowed herself to take comfort in the sympathy of her eyes.

"Lords and ladies, we have gathered here to honor our tournament champion, Prince Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen. With his aim and skill on the field, he has won your hearts. Now let him claim a different sort of prize, one worthy of such an archer," Lady Galadriel said with a smile. "Prince Legolas, step forward."

Legolas approached the royal seats. He kneeled, saying "It is an honor, my lady."

"I believe you already have a long bow," she said, her eyes merry, "but I have long awaited an archer fine enough to claim this quiver and arrows. These are not to be used lightly," she warned, "for they have been enchanted long ago during the days of Gondolin to break through the strongest of armor and bring down even the most grim of enemies."

Legolas bowed and took his gift with awe. Silvery engravings and runes graced the quiver and decorated even the shaft and arrowheads. As he looked to thank her, the prince heard her speak inside his head, "Use them well! Your days of peril are not yet over." The prince felt confused. Surely the lady had seen some premonition. He would leave Lothlorien and its safe borders soon. Danger still persisted in this world, and he would have to keep his guard up if he meant to protect his new followers. He turned to face the rest of the hall and met with salutes and cheers.

"Noble elves of Galadhon," called Celeborn, "join us tonight to celebrate our champions in a feast worthy of these final days." With that said, the crowd and champions departed. Eledhel and Haldir could not leave soon enough to go and change into drier clothing. Legolas sought Lady Limaer so he could return her ribbon, and Miredhel found herself standing alone.

She watched the prince from afar and the way that Limaer colored at his appearance, flipping her hair and batting her eyelashes. The prince did not seem to have to many objections to her advances and even went so far as to offer his arm to escort her from the room. "They are perfect for each other—so completely self-absorbed, one will never know if the other is missing," she muttered under her breath, although she really felt slightly annoyed at the fact that Limaer would try and throw herself in the way of Prince Legolas. 'He is completely beyond her,' she thought. Miredhel, so busy with her thoughts, did not notice that the Lady Galadriel had joined her side.

"Miredhel, you did very well today," she said. Miredhel snapped to, surprised by the Lady's sudden attention. She felt more than a little grimy in Galadriel's presence.

"Thank you, my lady. I surprised myself."

"But you did not surprise me, for I have heard of your skill with the bow and wondered why you would not join your friends in the Forest Guard."

Miredhel sighed. "It was never from lack of want, but rather the desire to please my brother."

"And now it seems your destiny to follow him to Ithilien?" Galadriel asked.

Miredhel nodded miserably. How did the Lady know these things?

"Fear not, daughter of Bragoglin. You will find your courage and much more on the roads to Ithilien." The Lady's eyes deepened. "Your bow will have other chances to sing. May I see it?" Miredhel gently handed it to Lady Galadriel. "This is no ordinary bow," the Lady continued, "but I think you know that, Miredhel."

"Can you tell me anything of its past?" Miredhel asked.

"I remember seeing this weapon in the hands of another, long ago." She closed her eyes. "Its past does not matter as much as its future, in your hands."

"I would still like to know," Miredhel insisted.

"This bow is from Gondolin long ago," Galadriel said slowly, and the lights in her eyes became distant. "It was made for the daughter of the king, Idril Celebrindal to protect her during the last days of her people."

Miredhel stared at the bow in wonder, as if she were seeing it for the first time. "How did this come to my house?"

"I do not know all the answers, ellyth," she said gently. "Use it well to protect the ones you love. Its arrows are not likely to go astray." Lady Galadriel handed the bow back to Miredhel and then turned to meet her Lord Celeborn. Miredhel felt elated. She could not wait to tell her brother of the news. He need not scoff at the old story anymore! She hurried towards home, eager to speak with him.

Meanwhile, Legolas vainly attempted to detach himself from Lady Limaer. At first, he enjoyed her attention. He was male after all. Now she had followed him all the way back to his suite, talking in a non-stop rattle of this and that, and he sorely wished for peace. She was lovely enough and could have proved an interesting enough conquest, if only she would pause for a breath now and then.

Normally, Legolas would have found other means of quieting her, but the journey ahead and Ithilien occupied his mind. He had felt decidedly discomforted at Lady Galadriel's words.

"Lady Limaer," he interrupted, "thank you for your kindness. I must go now…to prepare for this evening. I trust you will be there?" She nodded enthusiastically and opened her mouth to speak, but Legolas cut her off. "Until then, fair one," he said, bowed and quickly left for his room. Before the War of the Ring, he probably would have swept her into his room without a second thought, but everything had changed. 'Or maybe I have changed,' he thought miserably to himself. Legolas fleetingly wished for Gimli, or perhaps his sisters. They could always ease his worries or at least make him laugh. He would see them again soon enough. He silently promised himself to forget his worries long enough to enjoy the dinner tonight. Besides, he still had to claim his bet with the Lady Miredhel. Legolas smiled to himself. Tonight's dinner would prove most interesting. He was not really sure what to make of Miredhel, unlike Lady Limaer who was an open book. She was obviously interested. Miredhel, on the other hand, proved a greater challenge. She intrigued the prince. Most of the time, she obviously despised him, but perhaps he could persuade her to feel differently… Legolas had to remind himself that she was Eledhel's sister, and whatever he might want to do, honor must rule his actions.

The hour of the banquet dinner approached, and the prince found his way toward the hall. He thought of his first night in the city, when he had to sit with Lord Gilgafier and talk of runes all night long. He had quit the table in search of fresh air and had spoken with Miredhel for the first time. Then they had ended up arguing. If… no, when he got her alone on the balcony tonight, he would engage her in more pleasant conversation. He would give her no reason to find fault, and then he would make good on his bet. Legolas grinned wolfishly and entered the banquet hall.

"Good evening, my lord," Eledhel greeted him.

"This evening finds you much repaired from this afternoon's troubles, Eledhel," Legolas said and shook his hand.

"You know I could have won, if I had not fallen in the Nimrodel," Eledhel predicted.

"Perhaps," Legolas agreed. "When we reach Ithilien, we will have a rematch that will be the talk of the forest and Gondor combined."

"Well, at least we won the bet against my sister. I felt like the champion myself. My joy was so complete in the knowledge that she would join us," said Eledhel.

"Where is she?" Legolas asked innocently.

"Fussing with her hair or dress, I am sure," Eledhel said and looked curiously at Legolas. "You know usually she cares not about such things, but tonight…" he stopped himself. "Why do you want to know? And what is this secret bet you made with her?" he asked.

"She is the one who did not wish to tell you of the condition," Legolas pointed out.

"I demand you tell me," he said and frowned. "As her brother and guardian, I have the right to know. What are your intentions?"

"Only the most honorable," Legolas assured him.

Eledhel's eyes darkened as he warned the prince, "Upon our friendship, tread lightly where my sister is concerned." He took a deep breath, and his eyes lightened. "At least I have not heard too many lurid stories about your bedroom pursuits! Belegil, on the other hand..."

"Do not be jealous, Eledhel," Belegil joked, hoping to lighten the mood. "Perhaps, the Mirkwood maidens will be more gracious to you."

The bantering would have continued indefinitely if not for two reasons: the first being that dinner was served, and the latter having to do with the sudden appearance of Miredhel. The elven company assembled at the table, and Legolas was pleased to find himself in the presence of more companionable dinner-mates than the very dull Lord Gilgafier. The events of the archery contest dominated the dinner conversation, and all present possessed fine theories about why he or she had not won the competition. Legolas ate quietly. He could hardly join the discussion since he had, after all, actually won the tournament. Instead, he trained his eyes on Lady Miredhel who sat across the table next to her brother. She carefully avoided making eye contact with him, he noticed. She was a vision, lovely and ephemeral. 'If only she did not loathe the sight of me,' Legolas bitterly thought.

Eledhel took note of his friend's silent consternation. "Why so silent, Prince?"

"Really, Eledhel," said Legolas, looking up from his plate, "please dispense with the title."

"I will try, but I feel intimidated by your ornament there," he baited the prince, pointing to the silver circlet that the prince now wore. Miredhel turned her attention toward the prince, waiting for his reaction.

Legolas really did not appreciate Eledhel's drawing attention to his crown. "It is both an honor and a burden, a constant reminder of my duty and the people I must serve," he said carefully and removed the crown from his head, rolling it in his hands. "So small a thing, and yet it weighs so heavily in my hands and in my mind." He handed the crown to Miredhel. She took it reluctantly.

"It feels so light, Prince Legolas," she said and quickly passed it to Eledhel.

"So it does, to all who do not have to wear it," said Legolas. Eledhel placed the crown in his hands. He had made his point.

"You have friends who would help you, Legolas," Eledhel pledged.

"And so you shall!" Legolas' eyes brightened, "I would not expect anything less from you, my friend." He turned his attention to Miredhel. "Your performance in the tournament today was impressive, my lady."

"Not nearly impressive enough, my lord. I was not able to beat you."

"I hear more people speaking of you, than of the actual winner of the race," Legolas ventured.

"Does that bother you?" she asked archly.

"Of course not!" Legolas laughed. "I seriously considered throwing the race, just to avoid the attention."

She looked at him curiously. Surely this statement was not in keeping with her sketch of his character. "Why did you not just let me win then?"

He looked at her with a sly gleam in his eyes. "You know why…"

Miredhel had little to say to that, and instead she fought desperately not to blush under his gaze, unnerving creature. She wished the whole ordeal over. Rising from her seat, she begged her friends to excuse her. If he wanted to make good on his claim, then let him come and find her. She left the banquet hall and descended down the stairs to the forest floor.

The evening air felt cool, and the stars hung low and bright above the trees. Would Ithilien be even half as fair? She turned down the city path, flooded by the memories, both sweet and bitter, that each sight afforded her. This was her home, the land her father had spilt his blood protecting. She would have done the same if needed. Every moment's joy was bound up in these woods. How could she find happiness anywhere else? Tears swam in her eyes, and she stumbled toward her favorite garden. Only there could she find solace.

Legolas had excused himself not long after Lady Miredhel's departure. He suspected that she would rather roam the woodland paths than return home. His elven intuition rarely failed him, and he hoped that she might be waiting for him in the garden. The soft moonlight illuminated the statuary, and garden walls with its dewy white star-flowers seemed knitted from the heavens.

Lady Miredhel heard the prince approach, and before he entered the garden, she hastily wiped any trace of tears from her eyes.

"What troubles you, Lady Miredhel?" he asked gently, crossing the garden to be near her. "If this is about our wager, consider it cancelled."

"No, prince," she steadied her voice, "I promised you that I would meet any outcome of our wager graciously." She stood up and held her hand out to him.

He clasped her hand in both of his, feeling the lady tremble at his touch. This would never do. "You are not well," he observed, "and obviously desire my absence. I will leave you now." Legolas wistfully let go of her hand. Here he was in a romantic garden and on an evening such as this, and he could not even win a promised kiss from this maiden. What was wrong with him? Nothing, he decided. It was just this particular elf maiden, Miredhel. Unfortunately, as he studied her, he realized that she was the one he wanted. He turned to leave.

Miredhel felt foolish. She would not have this elf thinking her incapable of carrying through on her own silly bet. As he turned, she caught up his hand and pulled him close to her. She wrapped her other arm around the back of his head, strangely captured by the soft warmth of his hair against her skin. Her breath caught in her throat, and before she could talk herself out of it, she closed her eyes and kissed him. His arms met her waist and back, and she knew he had her. She might as well let him enjoy his prize. Legolas kissed her back, tasting her breath and reveling in the way her lips felt against his. Reluctantly, he pulled away, lightly bringing one hand to cradle her face.

Her eyes fluttered open. How long had it been that any elf had kissed her like that? Too long, she thought. Part of her hoped that he would kiss her again, and the more sensible other half told her to leave him now and preserve her dignity. She looked into his eyes, bright and blue, only inches from her own, for he still held her close.

Legolas pulled her in for another kiss. At first she blissfully submitted, tasting his lips and thrilling in his embrace, but at length, she resisted and pulled away from him.

"I must go," she said, wishing the garden would stop spinning.

"Miredhel, if I gave you offense…" Legolas started.

"No, but our wager was, after all, for only one kiss," she reminded him.

"So this was only about our wager? " Legolas asked slowly. He should have known better.

"You won. I lost," she said, shrugging. Her voice, devoid of any emotion or longing, made him feel foolish.

"Was it so horrible that I won, that we kissed? Am I so disgusting to you?" Legolas tried to keep his voice down.

"No, my lord, but do not deceive yourself to believe that I kissed you for any other reason than to settle our wager," Miredhel said, eyes flashing.

"I see," said Legolas, "but you cannot deny that you did not enjoy it."

"I most certainly…" Miredhel began, but the prince pulled her to him again. His lips seared her own, and for a moment he could feel her heart beating wildly against his. Miredhel wrenched herself free and raised her hand to slap him, but Legolas caught her wrist in mid air. Both elves stared at one another, steely blue meeting the darkest green.

"Let go of me," she hissed. Legolas released her wrist, and she backed away from him.

"Fear not, madam," he said. "The fault is entirely my own, for I mistakenly thought—no, hoped, that you returned my affection. I assure you that the sentiments that proved so vile to you will not be offered again." He bowed low to her and then left the garden as quickly as he had entered.

Miredhel felt lost, confused. He had done exactly as she had wished, which was for him to leave. Then why of all things did she feel so badly? "I probably made him very angry," she murmured and then raised her voice, "but even so, he expects every maiden to fall in a dead faint at his feet, and that I will never do!" She watched him retreating down the path, and his shoulders tensed at her words. She knew that he had heard her. Let him hear; perhaps the prince was long overdue on a lesson concerning the female heart.

The whole situation was abominable, really. Miredhel could only hope that her brother or his friends would never hear of the affair. She was strongly inclined to believe that she could depend on Prince Legolas to keep silent. Her actions injured his reputation as much as hers. Soon they would be on their way to Ithilien, and the whole mess could be forgotten. At least, she hoped so.