№Hgeocities.com/earthangeljenna/neithawen/neith4.htmlgeocities.com/earthangeljenna/neithawen/neith4.htmldelayedxy}еJџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџШнЇr'OKtext/htmlяк˜вr'џџџџb‰.HFri, 07 Nov 2003 20:51:41 GMTїMozilla/4.5 (compatible; HTTrack 3.0x; Windows 98)en, *y}еJr' 4. Legolas
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Neithawen's Deception
4. Legolas


Neithawen's preparations began immediately. She gathered up all of her weaponry, supplies, and other things she would need. Her quiver, with its beautiful silver etching in the shape of a swan, the symbol of the beautiful Galadriel, was filled with the white-fletched arrows of Mirkwood. She checked the edge of her sword. It was sharp and ready for battle. The inscription on the blade gave the sword the name of Heleg-Raw, or Ice-Lion. She ran her hand along the flat of the blade, feeling the engraved elven script under her slender fingers. Neithawen sighed and slipped the sword back into its sheath. She knew what she must do if she was really going to masquerade as a male elf. And it would not be an easy task. Elf eyes are not easy to fool. Neithawen laid her sword down upon the bed and moved towards the door. She quietly opened it and exited. 'Now all I have to do,' she thought, 'is to find someone who can tell me where the laundry is.' She wandered the beautiful corridors for a moment, trying to spot someone who looked like they would know where to find washed clothing. She finally saw someone with a woven basket of clothing. She approached the elf and asked, "Excuse me, but you couldn't lead me to the laundry, could you? I sent my clothing that I traveled in down to be washed, but they haven't come back yet, and I would like to check on them." She smiled broadly and turned on her elf-charm. The elf was persuaded easily. "Of course, hiril," he said, and beckoned her to follow. He led her down a series of paths that wound left and right, ever going downwards. They soon left the beautiful halls, and slowly the walls surrounding them were made of earth, packed down tightly after many thousands of years' use. They emerged into a cave area, far below the halls of Thranduil, filled with the beautiful clothes of the Elves. Most were on tables, either folded or waiting to be folded. Others were hanging, mostly dresses. "Yours will probably be over there, hiril," said the elf, pointing towards the dresses. "Or," he said, "your underthings there." He again pointed, this time to a table next to the far cavern wall, laden with underdresses and other things. 'Now,' Neithawen thought, 'I just have to get him to leave.' Fortunately, she didn't have to try hard at all. "Will you be all right, hiril, if I leave? I must go back and get more clothes. If you'd like me to wait, I can, but if not, on your way back up, just don't take any side paths and you will come back above ground," he said, gathering up some clothes. "No, you may leave. I'll be fine. Hannon le." He smiled as he started walking up the corridor. 'Ok, now I must find some clothes of a warrior. It shouldn't be too hard.' She tried to remember the clothes that she had seen on the men outside. She looked for dark browns and greens. Her elf eyes scanned the room quickly until her eyes landed on something peculiar. It was a garment of purple-blue, like the color of the clear night sky, lying in a dark forgotten corner. She walked over to it. Upon closer examination, she saw that is was a scarf made from a light, floaty material, see-through and yet thick. She looked around at the other clothes again. 'There doesn't seem to be anything else like it around,' she thought. 'If it is just lying here in the corner, away from everything else, it apparently doesn't belong to anyone.' She quickly slipped it into her pocket and started looking for clothes again. She saw them folded on a table nearby. There were the standard issue brown shirts and pants, with the light green overshirt. She picked up the smallest she could find of each of these and wrapped them in a light-colored dress. Next, she looked for boots. In a corner she found some, small, light, and well made. She tried on a pair or two, chose the ones that fit best, and wrapped it the in the dress also. Neithawen glanced around for more things, but she couldn't see anything else that she needed. She made her way to the opening of the passage just as another person was coming out. "Excuse me," Neithawen said, not even looking up. "No, please excuse me," said a distinctly male voice. Neithawen almost thought she recognized it. Her head shot upwards, and she saw the elf from her dreams. His beauty was even more pronounced close up. His dark, shapely eyebrows contrasted greatly with his blonde hair. His eyes were an amazing shade of azure. She could feel rather than see his chest rising and falling with every breath. And his lips. Her eyes focused on them for a few moments before she realized what she was doing. Her eyes snapped up to his. "I, um, sorry." She was immediately embarrassed. "Please do not be sorry. It was not your fault." Neithawen stood, unmoving, locked in his gaze, saying nothing. Finally, after many long moments, she broke the silence. "Well, I must be going," she said, and sidestepped around him, making her way back up the path.
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