The Painting

A whole new universe of possibilities opened up to me.

Aredhel opened my eyes on the power that I have and its pontential. I am granted the gift of being able to access any member of any race, society, age etc in the entire Middle Earth; elves, hobbits, dwarves, men, elves...now. A commentary, most respectable Elf Fancier like me would go about enriching their love lives by now or at the brink of some war where romance galore would flourish, but unfortunately this is no such story.

I was tempted though. Oh, to shag a certain blonde/brown haired elf.

Then my conscience kicked in, smacked me mentally and gave myself a typical Spiderman lecture on how great powers comes great responsibilities.

It couldn’t hurt, can’t it? Well, theoretically it sounds goooood…

--

It licks.

It is a demanding little thing.

It purred excessively.

Then again, having a fluffy white furball to cuddle and rub your face is much, MUCH more preferable to elves and silly notions of quest and the sea.

I picked a rather fetching picture of the said kitten playing in a forest, and I deliberately entered it willing. I supposed I wanted to test that whether what Aredhel said was true.

“Meow….prrrrrrr….” the little kitten butted its head towards my hand not too gently.

‘You thought I’d really go for it, didn’t you? Legolas certainly didn’t know what he was missing.’

I smiled, and kissed the kitten’s forehead.

---

I weighed my options rather seriously. Much that I’d love the males of Arda and Aman to shower me with praises and adorn me with elven fineries, (which is bloody unlikely to happen) I have a more pressing issue to tend to.

Who to see next?

I considered Eowyn, but she’s human and de jure would not apply. I considered Galadriel, but I like my private thoughts the way they are, thank you. I considered all the canon characters that might be perfect for my appointed task. I wanted to get this over and done with. At least I could get my nights as my own again without worrying whichever part of the abyss I landed.

So I decided on Luthien Tinuviel. Duh, you say. She’s my favourite, you say. Well, she is half-Maia, her father was the Great King of the elves, and de facto, should be the obvious choice, if the descriptions of her are event remotely accurate.

There’s plenty of fan art of her, that’s for sure.

Anke Eissman’s Luthien was the final pick. I wanted to know her when King Thengel is accessible, even though I ran the risk of being found out by her guards. That means that I will have to go to her depiction of being imprisoned by her own father…somewhere. I began my preparations. I dressed warmly in a pair of jeans, well mindful of archaic sensibilities I pulled on a long sleeved shirt and a sweater on top, also just in case it was autumn. I packed some biscuits and a flask of warm tea inside a sling bag I carried. I don’t really know whether it was necessary, but better safe than sorry, right?

I decided that my roommate would definitely suspect something if I place a First Aid’s kit, so I threw in some plasters and that was that.

Several blinks later, I found myself in a forest which shone brighter than any forest I knew, sweet-smelling and remarkably dry in a good way. I sat on my ass fascinated by the greenery of it all, until two beautiful creatures armed to their blessed teeth appeared.

They looked at me, I looked at them.

In typical Azira fashion, I creased my face into a grin and waved a cheerful ‘Hi’. I had swords at my neck before I can say Oopsie daisy. I noticed that the brown-haired one with a twinkle in his eye was more surprised in a good way than the silver-haired who looked as if I just ran his brother through with a sword. They both wore the usual Robin Hood getup appropriate for the outdoors.

Obviously guards, I thought. What ran through my mind was variations of “Shite, I’m screwed,” and whether their dungeons are as bad as those I read about Medieval prisons. I saw an opportunity. I did what every good Muslim would, pray to God on repentance should I die, and proceeded with universal unwritten procedure by jumping to my feet, turning around and bolting. That is, until one of the elves effortlessly lifted me from under my arms and laughingly shook his head to his serious companion’s brandished sword.

“He is a child!” I can understand pen neth anywhere, thank you.

Yes, he sheathed his sword before he picked me up, boy that elf was fast!

“Edhel-neth, Garth,” and spoke more elvish I didn’t understand, but I picked up something about the King and the law and paled visibly. Then the conversation lengthened on what they were to do with me, I suppose, that is until the most beautiful voice I have ever heard and can only be described as sweet as honey, light as joy, bright as sunshine, gentle as a doe, refreshing as newfound spring cascading down gently downhill as it flows, interrupted their debate.

“Is that how you would treat my guest?” elleth’s bilingual, thank Allah.

“Arwen-nin,” the nice elf gently deposited me right in front of the otherwordly being, but my knees won’t hold as my eyes drank in the sight of her, so it was said that my first meeting with Luthien Tinuviel was in an undignified heap of everything human. And what a being she was, as I feasted and drank and loved and elated on the beauty that is her. Screw ivory skin, hair darkest colour of midnight etc, her beauty transcends perfection and more. In her eyes, there was wisdom beyond my wildest dreams mixed with youthful vigour, genuine kindness with firm authority.

She was all of that and more.

I could do nothing but gape at her like some country/kampong bumpkin who has never seen the world.

My escorts were, as I noticed later looking at her with something akin to godlike adoration probably at par with the Valar themselves. Ah, I envied them for a moment, to spend even a scant moment with her. Then I remembered that it wasn’t forever that she lived in the circle of the elves, as she followed Beleg in the end. Then, I mourned.

“Does my father’s wrath extend to denying me guests as well?” lucky as it was at the time, I recalled that there was trade between these uppity elves and the rest of Middle Earth as well, so I played along.

“Milady, it is for your own safety that these measures are taken,” it was in elvish, but Luthien filled me in afterwards.

“It was not my choice,” she replied quietly.

“We have never seen this boy before, and the boy’s garments are strange. It would not do to allow strangers in your company,” the nice one had a point, I thought and to that she laughed with the slightest irony marking the sound.

“I have danced even before the light of Anor reached these shores, alone without escorts. Now thanks to Daeron I cannot even see friends without a list of those allowed!”

“How did she slip through 40 of Thengel’s best warriors?” ah, the not-so-nice one doesn’t look too happy.

“Urm, ah, mae govannen? May I have a say?” 3 pairs of eyes my way with the lady nodding her consent. Good. “Someone was kind enough to give me passage here. No, I do not have papers, etc, but suffice to say that Aredhel sent me here.”

“Aredhel?” it was almost a whisper, but not quite. “She lives?”

“All paintings still live in the hearts of those who view them, I think,” she looked baffled. “Well, someone didn’t fill you in, didn’t they?” Then my effort is wasted, I thought.

“The one we were waiting for…” she flitted her head from the guards to me and the most persuasive tone washed over me, “you are SHE?” She looked at me closely. “Are you sure you are not one of the little folk?”

“I can assure you I’m a different variant of homo sapiens…race of men,” I corrected myself. “Human still, either way.”

Then they studied me closely, in the most uncomfortable manner that you can imagine, and I felt something prodding in my mind. Nope, won’t letcha in, lady! It’s my head, don’tcha know. She looked startled, and nodded softly to her guards. Unheard exchanges. I can positively speculate, this girl is cool, yo, and she’s not to be poked by arrows or swords under any circumstances. Something like that, I hope.

“Come.” She offered her slender ivory hand to me, and I took it without question. She was tall. Tall even for elves, and I wondered what kind of human Beleg was to have her for a mate and be worthy. “It may be that you will meet him someday, through our children,” she replied to my unspoken question. “They will not know of us, of course.”

She led me to a rope ladder which led to a large talan. I tried not to look down. Allah, it is a LONG way up! Luthien made it look so easy, while I muttered to myself climbing it in a slow pace. I wasn’t even a quarter of the way out when she was up. Eventually she pulled me up, with me holding on to the ladder for dear life. She held out her hand for me when I was at the edge of the flooring, and I grasped it without a thought.

Again I found myself in a heap in front of the great Luthien Tinuviel, only this time, I was agape at her dwelling.

It was to be expected, for she IS what she is after all and her dwelling must be suitable to her station in life, isn’t it? Nothing prepared me for the luxury that I the beheld. The whole floor was made out of solid marble, though how they lifted it from the quarry all the way up a tree is a monumental task I know not how, the walls were made of wood in some colour I cannot name, carved in detail with birds, flowers, trees, elves adorning all surfaces. The rugs scattered here and there would’ve made the carpetmakers back in Persia to envy, the furniture doesn’t look as if it was meant to be used. I can go on and on about the ceilings, the sculptures…

“Wow,” I said, finally finding my voice, “you called this a prison?”

“A gilded cage is a cage still,” she said, smiling sadly.

For a while the nightingales outside the window sang. I slowly stood up, trying to gather what dignity and grace I could muster to at lest not appear too much like a hapless child.

“At least they allow you to walk around the place a bit, I doubt back home they’d be as courteous,” I said, at loss at what else to say.

“True. Now, you must come here with a purpose, do you not?” she glided onwards, gesturing me to sit at a small (well, what passes for small there) table decorated with rosebuds on the sides. The chair was surprisingly ergonomic, the craftsman certainly know what they’re doing.

“Well, like I said, Aredhel sort of led me here.” She placed a three-tier surprisingly English-like tea set. On the topmost level were scones, then the bread, and then the chocolates, accompanied by tea of course. Blessing my strict wardens for their insistence on table manners, I dug in. “She mentioned on something about giving elves good memories, and meeting the Valar across the sea. I don’t see how it’s actually possible.” She sat down beside me.

“It’s a rather simple thing to say, and yet it is not easily done.” She sighed. “Are you sure, dear child, you are the one intended?”

“I’m here, am I not?” She gave me a glance over.

“Your garments are strange enough.” Personally, I don’t blame her for doubting me. I’m from a totally different world where things I encounter here are bedtime stories. Of course I’m ill equipped! Why did she think I went to her?

“I was hoping that you’d help me, Luthien daughter of Thengel. I need a groundwork, research, i.e. I need to know what I’m getting myself into.”

“Why did you not contact the Fellowship?”

“I don’t think I can handle the tostesterones,” I said half-jokingly. She gave me a baffled look. “Too many good looking males in close quarters do something to a homely girl’s mind,” I explained, and she laughed, a merry sound.

“No, you are not homely, but pretty for a human. You’re a shy one, aren’t you?” she gave me a genuinely happy smile. A too-knowing smile I decided isn’t really good for my health. I'm flattered, but not that flattered,

“I don’t think so, but whatever goes,” I scratched my head.

“What do you need to know for your quest?”

“First off, the Grey Heavens, would Cirdan agree to give me a ship to travel to Aman, or do I have to contact the Eagles from the mountains they live on, or somehow ask Superman to help me? Secondly, can I ask someone to accompany me? Thirdly, will I be alone on this quest? Fourthly…” She laughed again.

“Child....I shall answer it, if you but slow down.”

“LUTHIEN!” the most intimidating bellow came from below the talan. Immediately, Luthien’s expression paled.

I looked at her. She held on to me, hugging me close with me a bit puzzled with the sudden mixture of fear and friendliness. Her eyes expressed dread and fear.

“He knows.”