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| Neithawen's Deception |
| 6. Spun Gold and Woven Dreams |
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Neithawen sat upright in her bed. The first halos of the sun had started to show above the crown of the horizon, but dawn had not yet broken. She put her hand to her brow and felt a thin sheen of sweat. As her breathing slowed, she thought about the dream that she had had again. The elf, whom she now new was Legolas, was fighting again, but this time she could see his face. He was pained, he didn't want to be fighting, but something else was written on his face. Knowledge of some kind, understanding. She wondered about it in the cool morning air. Knowing that she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, Neithawen slipped out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown. As she wandered over to the slightly open window, her thoughts wandered elsewhere. She thought of her plans, and when they were to depart. 'Tomorrow is the day.' She would have to wait for the last moments before she left to cut her hair. Her plan was to gather all her gear and extra clothing in the dead of night, steal away on a horse, and then, at daybreak, when the host of elves were scheduled to leave, she would ride in at the last minute, declare that she wanted to fight, and hopefully she'd be able to enter the troop without being caught. With any luck, she'd be placed in Legolas' company, as her father would be traveling with Thranduil. Neithawen felt a pang of hunger in her stomach. It had been since midday yesterday that she had eaten. She walked over to the small table near the door. A tray of neglected food lay upon it. Neithawen picked up a pear. As she bit into it, the juice flooded her mouth and she sighed. Although she new that going to war meant giving up simple pleasures such as waking up in the morning and taking a bite from a pear, the thought did not trouble her. She was ready for war, ready for battle. Neithawen turned around to see her reflection in the mirror above the washbasin. She saw a young girl of 800, in a soft blue dressing gown, holding a half-eaten pear. But fortunately, she was yet young enough that if she did cut her, don male clothing, and adopt a masculine manner, she could easily be mistaken for a male. She thanked sweet Elbereth for this gift, and turned away from the mirror, finishing her pear. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The day passed quickly, without much trivial event. It was almost nightfall when Neithawen was summoned to sup with the King, the Prince, and her father, whom she had seen neither hide nor hair of all day. She walked to the wardrobe and picked out the most feminine dress she owned, thus being totally opposite from how she would appear tomorrow. She put on the gown and walked to the mirror. Her red-gold hair was like spun gold in the fading daylight and candlelight of her room. Neithawen's fingers slipped through her hair like a branch in a stream. It was waist-length, and the tips just barely curled around her fingers as she ran them through. Her lower lip started to tremble. Neithawen knew it was foolish, but she couldn't help but let the tear slide silently down her cheek. In naught but a few hours, all of her hair would be gone. Neithawen stared into the mirror for a few more moments, but, feeling the evening beginning to grow darker, she hastily put half of it up in a neat pile at the crown of her head, and the rest she left dangling down her back. She moved toward the door and sighed. By this time tomorrow, she would be on the road to war. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Neithawen stepped into the private chamber where she would be supping with Thranduil, Legolas, and Maeglin. Her breath caught in her chest as she saw Legolas stand with the other men as she approached the table. He was wearing a long robe of pure, deep green, with dark brown leggings to match. His hair was a platinum blonde, held back as always with a fishtail braid on the top half and loose hair tumbling down his back. The sides were held away from his face by two braids over each ear. He looked stunning. She smiled and was about to sit down in the vacant chair, which happened to be next to Legolas, when she remembered her manners. "King Thranduil, what an honor it is to be invited to your private table. I thank you." Neithawen inclined her head slightly and smiled. "The honor is mine, Neithawen. Please, sit down," King Thranduil said, a smile playing around the corners of his lips. Neithawen took her seat next to Legolas. He smiled softly at her for a moment, and looked back at the king. "At what time do we depart tomorrow, ada?" Legolas asked. "At first light, my son, we shall begin to leave Mirkwood," Thranduil answered. A shadow crossed Legolas' face. His elven beauty wasn't marred in any way, but he seemed sad. Neithawen had to fight a strange urge to touch his rosy cheek in comfort. The servants came out with carts laden with sumptuous looking food. Beautiful trays overflowing with meats and cheeses; another set of trays with vegetables and fruits. Pitchers of various ales and wines were placed on the table with the platters, and the servants left the room. The men piled great portions of food on their plates. Neithawen, however, didn't each much at all. Her thoughts were elsewhere as she tried to keep up with the polite conversation. Mostly her thoughts strayed towards Legolas. As he laughed and joked with his father and Maeglin, she watched his face. His beautifully chiseled cheekbones, his perfectly arched brows, gave her shivers. She was drawn from her thoughts, however, when her father turned the conversation to war. "You never told me, Thranduil. What is all this conflict about?" Maeglin asked. "Well, my friend, the men of Rhun are at war with people from the East. Orcs have also come to the aid of the East Men. In fact, they have almost completely taken over the fight, Thranduil said, his brows knitted together. It almost seems as though they are trying to help, said Maeglin, although we know that cannot be it. It is not a personal fight. All the orcs care about is killing and destroying. There are no real motives for that which they do, Legolas said, his eyes glinting. Yes, my son, perhaps you are right. But what we do will help the men of Rhun salvage all that they have worked hard to build. We will help them win this fight. Thranduil breathed deeply. Whatever the reasons, we will fight, and we shall win. A door to Neithawens left opened suddenly. A messenger came through with a bow and said, My lord Thranduil, Im sorry to trouble you, but the captain is in need of your council. Can it not wait? asked Thranduil, a frown forming on his handsome face. The captain says that it is very important, sire. He also requested the presence of Lord Maeglin and Prince Legolas. I am sorry. Thranduil sighed. Very well, we are coming. The three of them stood up from the table. We are sorry, Lady Neithawen, to leave you thus. Please feel free to stay if you like, Thranduil offered. Actually, King, I believe I shall retire for the night. Thank you again for inviting me to sup with you. Neithawen flashed a dazzling smile. Our pleasure, Legolas said. He strode over to her and pulled her hand to his lips. We are leaving in the morning, as you know, and I shall not be seeing you again until we return. A look of sadness flickered across his face, but the nonchalant and proper manner was back in a flash. I thank you again for your company this evening. He released her hand. In it there was a small sheaf of parchment folded into a tiny square. She was surprised, but hid it from the others. I hope you will grace us with your presence upon our return, my lady, Thranduil said. He began to stride towards her, and she hurriedly slipped the paper from her right hand to her left behind her back. He grasped her hand and kissed it. Neithawen inclined her head. It will be an honor. Come, my son, let us leave them a moment. Thranduil motioned to the door. He and Legolas exited. My daughter, oh how I shall miss you, Maeglin said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. And I you, ada nin, Neithawen said, returning the hug. What am I to do whilst you are away? Nothing of great importance, just help as best you can. I have a grave feeling Thranduils people will need you. I have foreseen it, but it is very clouded. A shadow fell across Maeglins face. Now we must part, my daughter, but not for long. We shall return swiftly. I will miss you. Yes, ada. I will be all right. Gerich meleth nn, ada. Neithawen withdrew from her fathers embrace and smiled softly. I love you, too, Neithawen. Maeglin smiled and left. |
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