Shadow of Angmar

Chapter 4

Music still filled the halls when Mistril decided she should take a break and go into the outer garden, which was one of the few open spaces. The moon was shining over the forest warmly as if it knew it was a special night. Trees were whispering to each other and wind was sending messages from one corner of the forest to the other. Most wood elves were inside the hall celebrating but some were doing the same in their own personal spaces. Song and laughter filled Greenwood and it made the elleth smile.

"It sounds beautiful, doesn't it?"

Mistril spun around surprised somebody else followed her idea and walked out for fresh air. But she tensed when she didn't recognize the face.

"I didn't mean to scare you. I thought you sensed my presence." The ellon apologized.

"No, I guess I was expecting someone else. You're a warrior." She concluded by how the elf in front of her didn't seem to enjoy parties much and still had his knives hidden in his clothing. "Not quite your place inside, is it?"

"Do I seem that unhappy?" He asked jokingly but seeing how she was so serious he sighed. "I feel weary. We haven't had a battle in a while and even orcs have become foolish. I feel like this style of life does not suit me." He admitted easily in front of her.

"What is your name?" She asked, approaching him.

"Maerdor. I used to fight alongside my king before peace settled in. I am both happy and sour and even on this special night I cannot mimic joy." He said looking up at the moon with melancholy.

"I know peace is better than war. I'm not sure what I've gone through or if I had gone through anything at all but war brings so much pain and loss and-" she stopped, the eyes of the red headed elfling coming back into her mind. Mistril tried to continue but her heart was breaking at the thought.

"Who did you lose in war?" Maerdor asked seeing how she knew too much not to have felt it.

No! Father! Father, we have to- but everywhere she was looking, she could only see swords clashing against each other. It was gruesome. People she had known were slain while others were trying to survive and run. Spinning around she came to see another red haired elf but visibly older than the last one. He was putting up quite a fight but he didn't see it coming, didn't even blink before a huge orc decapitated him.

Mistril looked at her hands, blood covering them and most of her clothes. She felt sick to the stomach and without any preparation, she vomited.

"Are you alright? What's wrong?" Maerdor asked the elleth once he saw her crouch and throw up.

It was really sudden. One moment they were talking and the next she looked to the side with a frown before she vomited.

He tried to soothe her by patting her back but the feeling of disgust made her feel even sicker.

Maerdor helped Mistril return to her room and then left her when she asked to be alone. The warrior nodded and complied but instead of returning to the party he went to the healer's quarter.

"Maerdor, why so worried?" The healer asked calmly finding the warrior pacing in front of his room.

"It's lady Mistril. We were talking in the garden and then she felt sick. I helped her to her room and hoped I would find you on my way back."

Gweluven glanced at the corridor towards the back of the Halls where her room was. He wondered if maybe she remembered something again and if she took the concoction already.

"I'll take care of it." assured Gweluven with a gentle pat on Maerdor's arm.

In the darkness of her room, Mistril was squirming in her own skin. She could see the two red haired elves die over and over again and the clash of weapons became so much more vivid in her ears.