Shadow of Angmar

Chapter 6

It was the middle of summer and although the sun was shining brightly over the forest, some nights were quite breezy. Such was this particular time when it started to rain heavily around noon and it continued the rest of the day. The Halls were especially cold, even with every hearth lit up.

Mistril was in the library, reading with her feet as close as possible to the crackling fire inside the hearth. Her eyes were shining in the light as a content smile contoured her face. She found a romance novel written by a famous author from Gondolin, long dead and probably forgotten by the youth. Mistril, too, had almost forgotten about the elvish stories that her sister Lirneth loved to read and then recount them to her older sister.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself,"

The distant yet polite tone was unmistakable. Thranduil approached the space that Mistril arranged for herself –which was just an armchair brought from who-knows-where and placed in front of the hearth with a wood hassock nearby, full of books and war documents. The latter made the king raise an eyebrow since he still didn't know much of her past and her intentions in his land.

"I am only reading, nothing else," she responded, already having sensed his suspicion. "Those documents are about the Last Alliance and the battles that followed."

"Why are you interested in those events? What are you searching for?"

Mistril couldn't help but chuckle and put aside her novel. She looked up at him and she paused, surprised by how royal he looked. No, even more than that, he looked so flamboyant and modest at the same time. His hair fell slightly on his face since he was looking down at her, his robes were of a dark blue color but not as impressive as the ones he usually wears during daytime or important meetings. But the way he was looking at her, the firelight bringing a bit of warmth to his usual cold eyes, all these elements made Mistril forget about her sassy comment and quickly turn her head towards the hearth. She was aware that her heart just skipped a beat and unfortunately it was not related to her usual condition.

Thranduil stood there like a statue, patiently waiting for her response. He noticed the sudden change in her mind, it was visible all over her face and her attitude, so he was curious about what she was about to say.

"As you well know, I have vague memories about my past and some of them are related to one of those battles, or maybe several battles. Something happened at Dagorlad, something more than what is related to Sauron." She said, shuddering as the name rolled out her tongue. "I know you believe me to be a spy or some sort of dark omen and I honestly don't know if that's right or not. But I want to find out. I want to know if I am indeed a danger to you and the rest of the elves," she finished, not once looking at him.

"What do you remember?" Thranduil asked, surprising her with his more docile tone. Mistril glanced at him with amusement.

"Not much. I remember there was a battle where many elves died, but it was long before Dagorlad. I was young back then, my hair was long and red just like my siblings. An elfling was killed in front of me, and I believe that was my sister. An orc cut the head of one of my older brothers and to be honest, I do hope the rest of my family survived. I hope they are safe in Valinor."

When talking about her family, it was odd because there was genuine sadness but at the same time, her emotions were still very controlled and well-dosed. It was just so hard for the Elvenking to read her mind.

"What do you remember about them?" He asked, trying to see more of an emotional response.

"Lirneth was a lady of the court, like Edenith. She was talented in music, calligraphy, and dancing, she had a-"she stopped and frowned as new memories surfaced, "She had a lyre that she used to carry everywhere because people just loved listening to her play. Our mother used to joke that Lirneth was good at dancing while I was good at fighting elegantly." Mistril laughed at the silly memory and looked up at Thranduil with joy, "I was horrible at dancing, at playing the harp which mother loved, at pretty much everything around the court. My desire was different. My desire was..."