Maeve of Sylvania

It was the sound of hoof beats that had awoken Aragorn from a restless sleep. There would be arrivals throughout the week for the upcoming council. He vaguely remembered dreaming of Maeve and how they had first met. He smiled fondly at the memory. Even now, the mystery of how some elves seemed both young and full of wisdom of ages enraptured him. Maeve had been right...When he had found Arwen in Lórien and they had pledged their betrothal, he was indeed glad that it could be done without guilt...It had been long since he had seen her. Last he had heard, she returned to Mirkwood occasionally before heading out again to continue her long search for her brother. He would have to see if Legolas had any news of her. Hopefully, his old friend would arrive soon. They had quite a bit of catching up to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As it turned out, Legolas and the other elves from Mirkwood did not arrive until the very morning of the Council of Elrond. There was not time for much more than a greeting before all gathered to discuss the Ring and what was to be done. However, though the Fellowship was chosen, they would not leave for another seven days. There was much to be done, including the reforging of Narsil, which Aragorn renamed Andúril, Flame of the West, due to the brilliance with which the sword reflected the light of sun and moon. While much time was spent pouring over maps and books and planning with Gandalf, the Ranger managed to steal an evening away to speak with his old friend.

After much discussion of the upcoming journey and its preparations, Aragorn inquired about Maeve. Legolas's face was inscrutable as he replied. "I am glad you asked about Maeve. With all this other commotion I had almost forgotten. I was recently on a scouting mission with some of my men when we came upon a clearing that was strewn with dead orcs. We were pondering the meaning of this when we noticed movement near the trees. Upon drawing closer, we found Maeve hunched over one of the orcs."

Legolas paused to take a drink. Then with a heavy sigh he continued. "The orc had a shield and sword that were clearly Elven in design. What made it certain to be those of Alaric was what the orc wore as a trophy...a scalp full of long dark elf hair...apparently, finding this, Maeve had become overwhelmed with rage and somehow managed to slay dozens of orcs single-handedly. She was still in shock; as I approached her, she raised her bloodied sword and would have cleaved me in two, had I been any slower in evading the blade.

Aragorn, it took four of us to subdue her! Never have I known a woman with her strength! Once unarmed, she sank unconscious to the ground. We put her on horseback and gathered her brother's weapons. There was some debate about what to do with...with his hair...but decided Maeve should be given the choice when she was able, so we collected that as well.

When we arrived home, I had Lady Ithilwen and Ára summoned to care for her. For many days Maeve did not speak, nor do anything other than sit and stare blankly. Ára said it was all she could do to force a bit of broth down her throat. I spent many nights keeping watch at her side. More often than not, Maeve would awaken with screams of terror and anguish and had to be restrained. She seemed to recognize no one and we feared that she would injure or simply starve herself. We were about to send word to Elrond to see if he knew some such healing we did not, when she began to recover.

One night, while in her room, I was absent-mindedly singing an old song I had heard the court musicians playing earlier that day. Much to my surprise, a soft female voice joined mine. Turning, I saw Maeve sitting up, with tears streaming down her face. As we finished the song, I sat next to her. She explained that it was one of her brother's favorite songs, he had always loved to hear her sing it.

Though she still grieves for her brother, that night was a turning point and Maeve seems to be regaining her strength. I wished to stay with her as long as possible; that is why I did not arrive sooner for the council."

Aragorn had listened intently to Legolas's account. "I am sorry not to be able to meet her brother. But at least now Maeve will not be out traveling alone. It is no longer safe to do so. I am curious; what did she do with Alaric's hair?"

"She has woven it into a belt upon which she carries his sword. She has also taken to wearing a few locks of it braided into her own. I fear she will be greatly altered by this tragedy."

The two sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Legolas regretted having to leave Mirkwood at this time. Maeve had become dear to him, as a sister would be, and he hoped to be brother to she who had lost hers. He knew however, that the destruction of the Ring and the defeat of the forces of Mordor were more important than all else in Middle-Earth. He would have to trust that Maeve's strength and the care of others at Mirkwood would sustain her.

Aragorn was also saddened by the news of his friend's loss. He knew what it was like to grieve for a loved one. It seemed not all that long ago that his mother had passed on...indeed, there were times when the grief stabbed his heart anew, sharp as the Elven blade he carried... Hopefully Maeve would find comfort at Mirkwood. With any luck, perhaps they would one day meet again. Unfortunately, there were more pressing concerns at this time.

Just then Gandalf approached and the three began to discuss once again the journey that was imminent.