An Arrow or Two || Legolas/LotR

ONE

Chapter One. The Fellowship Unite.

Sat in my room it was quiet, save for the soft sounds of Rivendell life wafting through my window gently. Water, birdsong, faint music.

Today was a sombre and serious occasion, and for that I had been putting off getting dressed, purely out of nerves tugging at my chest. I had never been fantastic in situations like these, and for that I was dreading Elrond coming to call for me. The silvery-blue material folds of my dress remained still and draped over the end of my bed, glinting ever so subtly in the sunlight.

Elrond wanted me there at the council he had called. The darkness encompassing Middle-earth was no longer a problem I was too naive to know.

I walked to the end of my bed and, only a little reluctantly, picked up the soft silver piece of material; it was light and fluid underneath my fingertips, like water. With subtle floral patterns stitched into the top, it was rather beautiful. I quickly took off my nightgown and slipped on the dress. Looking down at myself I twisted the material in my fingers, smoothing it over myself.

Staring at myself in the mirror I felt a little strange; being aware of myself in such a way was new. I sat and brushed my hair; it fell down to the middle of my back, curling at the ends. Once many years ago it had fallen to my hip bones evenly and healthily, but after an incident involving my bowstring I had cut it far too short and scruffy in frustration, only to regret it immediately and seek out the help of my sister, Arwen. I had mourned my long hair, lamenting dramatically like a wounded animal, but it grew back just like Arwen had reassured me every single day and night for weeks. That had been years ago, and I had learnt my lesson. As I finished brushing my hair I smiled at the memory.

I shook my head and smiled as I brushed my hair back. Despite my efforts, a small strand kept falling back over my shoulder and drifting down past my collarbone lazily. In this beautiful dress for this serious occasion I felt strange. I looked a little lost, with the curling ends of my hair brushing my elbows, my body swarmed in the sleeves and length of the material, my collarbones exposed, and without any of the weapons which completed me. When I was outside, climbing trees, listening to the water, smelling the outdoors, and truly using the Elf-abilities I felt better. Less aware of myself.

When I was younger and doing terribly in my music lessons many of the elleths used to think I was a bit odd in the head, late to bloom into the femininity and grace, but later had come to terms with our differences as well as our similarities. Lessons and music were delightful but, after all, I had always thought why flounce around (or worse, sit still), when you could do archery?

One thing I had truly picked up from the many lessons with the other elleths was writing. I picked up a little notebook from underneath my pillow. It was quite small and scruffy, but it had lots of pages for me to document in. Whether it be something I enjoyed, something I found interesting. It was basically the insides of my head in black ink on paper. So far throughout the book, I had sketched maps and diagrams in it and would often go back to different pages and add to them and some of the entries. This book had been my pride and joy when I was first given it by my mother. I had had it for years; it now looked nothing like the blank and pristine book when I first was given it as a young child.

I flicked through the pages of childish scrawlings and little blotchy pictures from many years ago, the little notes I used to make my mother write in for me so I could copy them.

Those were simpler times, I thought to myself. Recently life had flipped over in the past years, Middle-earth slowly being consumed by an awakening of darkness. In Rivendell, more recently life had changed when Arwen had come running in with an injured little Hobbit bearing the One Ring to rule them all and a wound from the sword of the Witchking, wrapped up in his cloak. He had been pale and clammy and close to death. I shivered thinking about it.