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| Neithawen's Deception |
| 2. Many Meetings |
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Neithawen looked up as she saw the trees start to lessen in density. "Welcome, my daughter, to the Realm of Mirkwood." Maeglin said as he smiled. Neithawen stared in awe that was the beauty of the King's Realm. It was an open space in the midst of a dense grove of trees on all sides. The ground was thick with beautiful flowers and brush. Each tree seemed to radiate its own individual personality. Each leaf, each branch, each tiny piece of bark shone with beauty. Neithawen's eye caught a sudden movement to her left. She turned to find a deer daintily eating a leaf from a bush. It lifted its brown head and gazed at Neithawen with deep amber eyes. Neithawen kept eye contact with the deer until she felt the deer inside of her; that she could feel what it was thinking. War is upon us. Flee, child. Go. Then the deer turned and bounded back into the thicket of trees. "Neithawen, come." Neithawen turned to see her father surrounded by 4 men with bows, although they weren't drawn. Each man wore brown boots, light green leggings, and light brown shirts. Their quivers were attached with 3 straps reaching around all sides of their chests. Their arrows were sleek and shiny, the fletching made of pure white feathers from some unknown bird. They watched her, patiently waiting. "We have been summoned to the King. Come and meet Thranduil." Neithawen's eyes snapped back to her father. "Yes, ada." The guards turned and led the way. As she walked, Neithawen remembered the story of Thranduil and her father. They had been friends since childhood. Long ago did they explore Middle Earth together, wandering to and fro, learning new things and meeting new people. When at last they came to Lothlrien, Maeglin found that he could not leave. So he and Thranduil parted on the best of terms, and Thranduil made his way back to Mirkwood to rule as the Elven king. Maeglin had met Neithawen's mother in Lothlrien, and Neithawen was born. Neithawen seemed to recall that her father had once told her that Thranduil had had a son. She couldn't quite remember the name. No matter. I'm sure I'll meet him soon enough. Maeglin and Neithawen followed the guards into the palace. If the outside had been beautiful, it was nothing compared to the inner part of the palace. The flagged stone floors were polished and smooth; the walls were decorated with the most beautiful artwork that Neithawen had ever seen. She passed a sculpture made from gold and silver, and stopped to look at it. She marveled at its beauty, its luster. The gold was rich and thick, the silver was like so many reflective pools. All was entwined around itself in such a manner that Neithawen could hardly believe it had been crafted by any hand, even the incredible craftsmanship of the Elves. She turned to see her father approaching a tall, blonde elf wearing very kingly attire. His face was beautiful, yet grim. "Mae govannen, Maeglin. How wonderful it is to see you again. How long has it been?" Thranduil asked, placing a hand on Maeglin's shoulder. Maeglin returned the embrace. "Too long, mellon nin, too long." Thranduil's eyes fell upon Neithawen for the first time. "And who is this beautiful young elf?" he asked, smiling at Neithawen. "My daughter, Neithawen." "So very pleased to meet you, my Lord Thranduil," Neithawen said, bowing to him. "Do not suggest to me that you have created such a lovely being, Maeglin. It is just not possible," Thranduil came forward and pulled Neithawen into a standing position. He was much taller than her. She felt very nervous. His eyes, however, gave her comfort. They were deep and caring, filled with knowledge and wisdom unknown to many. "Welcome to the Realm of Mirkwood, Neithawen, daughter of Maeglin." |
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