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| Neithawen's Deception |
| 3. The War of Rhûn |
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The preparations for battle began immediately. "War has come to the East. The Sea of Rhun has been attacked by men of the mountain, from Esgaroth. They have sent a messenger to ask for our aid. Thus, we shall be sending all available Elves to help." Thranduil sat upon his throne, richly embellished with gold and silver, thickly upholstered with dark red velvet. The headband upon his head was an entwinement of small ribbons of multi-faceted silver, and whenever the sunlight touched it, sparks of heaven would be set free. "Yes, my Lord Thranduil." The warrior by Thranduil's throne set off down the hall of the throne room. "I must know, my dear friend, will you be joining me in the fight?" Thranduil asked Maeglin. "I do not ask you to come." "Of course I come. I help defend innocent lives. What do you take me for, some kind of savage?" Maeglin said, a laugh playing around the crinkles of his eyes. "But what of your daughter?" "She shall stay here, with your women. She can care for herself. My Neithawen is brave and cunning. If she were not a woman, I would bid that she comes along." Maeglin smiled inwardly. "But what of your son? He was born near the same time as Neithawen, was he not?" "Yes, my son was born 50 years before Neithawen. Legolas is his name." "And will he be journeying with us to Rhun?" "I know not. That is his decision to make," Thranduil said. "Well, in any case, I should like to meet him." "It can be arranged, my friend." Thranduil smiled. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Neithawen watched out the window. Everywhere she could see, Elves were preparing for battle. A few were gathering all spare quivers, their arrows' fletching as white as snow, and loading them onto a horse-drawn cart. Others were piling swords into another cart. The beautiful horses, mostly white in color, snorted and tossed their heads playfully. She was particularly drawn to one horse, off to the side of the group of warriors. It was grey-white, with dappled hindquarters. Its eyes were deep and soulful. It tossed its head and snorted as an elf came up to it and placed his hand upon its nose. If she had been interested in the horse, it was nothing compared to the interest she felt towards the elf. He was tall, with long, blonde hair, and deep, beautiful blue eyes. 'Blonde hair, blue eyes, tall… Who does that remind me of?' But she couldn't place a name to the picture. No doubt it was one of the many suitors she had had in Lothlórien. They were all the same. All were nice enough, but not what she dreamed for, what she hoped for. Her attention drifted back to the elf and horse. She watched him for a few more moments. Suddenly he stiffened. He turned toward her window and saw her standing there, watching. She continued to gaze down at him. The sight of his face was amazing. He was, in essence, beauty itself. No other elf she had seen compared with the beauty of this he-elf. In fact, nothing she had ever seen compared. She was breathless. He stood, his face calculating, his expression one of wonder. Then he smiled softly and turned back to the horse. Neithawen turned away from the window and sat down. 'I'm sure that's the elf in my dream,' she thought. 'But who is he?' A knock on her chamber door startled her. "Yes?" she called. "Neithawen, may I speak with you?"
"Of course, ada. Come in." Neithawen moved toward the door as it opened and Maeglin entered. "I must tell you, I have decided to go to war. Thranduil needs all that can be spared. We hope that we will not be gone long. You will stay here with the others that are left behind." The phrase 'left behind' seared her flesh and pricked at her heart. "But ada, I can fight. You know I can. I am a better archer than most men it Lothlórien. You mustn't make me stay!" Maeglin sighed. The pleading in Neithawen's eyes almost broke his heart. "No, iell nin, you must stay." He turned toward the door. "I'm sorry." He opened the door and left Neithawen alone to her thoughts. 'No,' thought Neithawen. 'I will not be left behind.' |
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