And the LORD God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help meet for him.
- Genesis 2:18
I felt that he was a kindred spirit as soon as ever I saw him.
- L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables
Voronwe sat beside his daughter, observing how begrudgingly she spoke when he inquired something of her. He knew what it was that separated her in these moments, for of late she had taken to gazing out her window, rarely opening her mouth to speak.
Now Anneth did not speak often, nor did she tear her gaze from outside the window often, but now more than usual she had done it. Her father knew precisely what it was and shook his head. Youth.
His daughter nearly was of age, and it would be silly to ever insinuate she had not begun to 'notice ellyn'. This term Voronwe used for lack of a greater description. He saw the way Anneth's gaze trailed after the tall one, how she coloured when she spoke to him, often fiddling with the sleeves of her gown. It was clear; she fancied him, and not for a very good, compelling reason. Voronwe wished not to see his daughter let her heart be driven mindlessly by this failing infatuation. It would do her no good, and merely be a waste of her time and feelings.
Without an introduction, he asked Anneth, "Do you fancy him?"
His daughter blushed and nodded quickly, answering soon after.
"But I know it is foolish. Why, Ada, have you observed his horrifically crude mannerisms? And the way he so terribly treats his mother? There is naught attractive about him save his face. And even than might show itself repulsive to me in time." She sighed, pulling at the hems of her sleeves.
"I am proud, iell, to hear you reason so logically with yourself. He is young, and is not a good ellon, quite immature and lacking in chivalrous deeds. He is not worthy of my daughter."
"Ada, you speak of me as if I were a gem, and elvish princess of high standing," Anneth said, laughing quietly.
"Ai, but you are, my princess. Have you so easily forgotten that I am a king?" Voronwe chuckled to himself as he recalled the days when his eldest daughter had waxed poetic of her longings to be a princess so she might be wed to a prince.
Anneth smiled widely, throwing her arms around her father.
"I would have you guard your heart, Anneth, keep it safe for the one destined for you. Do not indulge yourself in fancies and infatuations, for those only shall lead to unnecessary hurts. There is an ellon for you in your future; wait for him. Do not hasten time, do not become distracted from this knowledge. You are worth more than that, iell, you deserve one who is worthy to be a prince by his actions, though he be not royal."
She said naught, merely tightening her hold on her father and allowing her thoughts to float away from the ellon they had dwelt on, instead looking toward her future and the ellon who had no name, nor bore a face. Even now she longed for him, imagined what loving him would be like, constructing her fate in her mind. She dreamed of their wedding feast, of their first kiss.
It sometimes occupied her thoughts, to think of what a kiss might be like. Surely she might discover how it affected one before she met the one for her, but truly that was entirely disagreeable, to give something away that only should belong to the one she loved with all her being.
Once she imagined what it would be to be kissed by the ellon who had taken hold of her thoughts the past few days. It did not appeal to her, and so she never thought again of kissing another, for the one she would wed had never crossed paths with her.
And as she was left alone, looking on as all those she loved and knew married, it became evident that there was no kiss reserved for her, no love waiting. As the years passed, still she yearned for that love, to be held by another, to live life with one who treasured her above all else, and to love another with the whole of her. That was what she wanted, more than anything. But there was no hope for those dreams. They were unsubstantiated, never should they make themselves known, forever being fleeting mists of her mind, aches and longings in her heart.
Laineth and Amarwe both turn their eyes to me and shake their heads, laughter pouring from their mouths, and tears falling from their eyes. 'Tis clear my slight predicament brings them much amusement, which truly is rather embarrassing. My two little sisters, hysterically laughing over my silly quandaries.
"You are a fool, sister," Laineth says.
Nellethiel shakes her head. "Really, you are so harsh! She is your older sister!"
"Yes, Nellethiel, she is our older sister. And a rather foolish one at that," Amarwe remarks teasingly. "We still love her unendingly."
"Ai, you all are quite ridiculous, I do believe," respond I, smiling.
Laineth smiles as well. "Oh sister, you know not how much joy your smile brings me! If only you could always be so merry shed the terrible solemnity that forever surrounds you at every moment."
"I have shared in sorrow with you, sister, but I have not also shared in your happiness. I have seen you happy, and rejoiced to see a smile on your face, but I have not been able to experience the happiness you know so well." The smile fades, and the gloom and sadness that I am so often reminded of returns.
Nellethiel presses together her lips. "Authiel, how can I bring back the merry elleth you once were? I have never even seen her, only hear of her from your sisters!"
"I can no longer remember what it was to be her," I say, a sigh falling from my lips. "Now I am accustomed only with grief and loneliness."
"Loneliness! But how? You see us all twice in a fortnight and more often than that!" Nellethiel exclaims.
"You forget that is only in the past year, mellon nin. Before that there was no such resolution to spend time together, and much time you spent with your families, and rightfully so."
My sisters both glance on one another, then turning to me.
"Authiel," Laineth says, "we would spend more time with you, sister, if not for the responsibility we have."
"I understand. You all are married, and your families and husbands take priority, and never will I object to them being placed above me. 'Tis what is necessary, what is right."
"You have always been so gracious, such a wonderful sister," Amarwe says. "I always marvelled at the ways you lived. I admire you, sister. In many ways."
Another smile I offer them all, and until the sun falls we speak with one another.
I treasure these moments, for in them I am no longer alone. I no longer live in a reality where my friend and sisters are wed and pay little mind to me, even if they mean not to. Yet as soon as they come, they flee, for responsibilities are not to be forsaken, regardless of whatever circumstance.
My eyes follow my friends as they depart from my mother's home, fading into the darkness as dreams drift away. I trail them out the door, but do not go where their paths lead, instead seeking solitude in the gardens of Imladris, where I and my thoughts can be undisturbed, where I might look upon the stars and the creation and be rejuvenated in that manner.
The gardens are always silent in the darkness, the trees reflecting the starlight. There are flowers, even in the winter days, and their colours are not diminished by the black of night, so vibrant they can be seen now. Shrubbery lines some paths, green and living. The Hidden Valley and Rivendell have gone untouched by the shadow, free from the evil darkness and the icy tendrils of death. Here we are safe, yet once one ventures beyond the Hidden Pass, there is danger that lurks in every corner. One cannot travel safely alone, for the threat of Sauron lies in all corners.
The stone pathways that I have so often walked gleam in the moonlight, cool under my bare feet. Earendil's star shines brightly against the canvas of the night sky, and I sit upon a stone bench, alone.
Though I came here to seek solitude in my thoughts, I long for a companion. Another to share my troubles with, the hurts that have made their home deep within me. There are my sisters, yes, and there is my young friend Nellethiel, but they do not understand all. They understand not what it is to be alone, to have gone centuries with only one's mind for comfort.
Thoughts as these cause me to wonder why I have not yet sailed. I might go across the Sea and be with my kin. I might live in Valinor, and rejoice in its beauty, not concerning myself with being alone.
There are none here to hear my thoughts, and so quietly I speak them to the air. 'Tis silly, but yet I do it, for it brings weight off my soul, if even a small bit.
Then I hear whispers, angry whispers, that are not my own. I turn my head to them, glimpsing high cheekbones and golden hair, recognising the Prince of Mirkwood.
I have thought of him little the past week, he has been the least of my concerns, and I intend to keep it so. He does not see me as I glance at him, and I cannot help but admire him. It is only from a distance, and there is no harm to be found in that.
A friendship I cannot hope for with him, and that is very well. For I fear that to befriend him would lead to the deception of my heart, by my own longing, yearning mind. Already I think him handsome, and I do not trust myself to not be foolish. At this distance I will stay, content to be as many are, admiring the prince and not knowing him.
••••••••
The third day of the week I saw him again in the gardens where I was, again muttering angry sounding things under his breath, and again I saw him yesterday, on the week's fourth day. And now I see him today, leaning against a tree, hair shining, and a majestic presence about him, despite there being no crown on his brow, nor any especially fine garb.
Again I find myself admiring him. He is a prince, which person should not find themselves admiring such a high standing figure, and to have spoken with him, even if but a few times is as a rare occasion.
I observe silently as he runs a hand over his fair face, concentrating on the bush four yards from where he sits, as he has done for the past few days. At times I do wonder what passes through that princely mind, what thoughts seem to plague him. I tear my eyes from him, looking to the sky and seeing the stars glimmer majestically in the great expanse.
"'Tis a beautiful night. Autumn always brought the most beautiful of times."
I gasp, startled, bringing my gaze to the voice, belonging to none other than Prince Legolas.
My voice I cannot find, my heart pumping speedily in my chest.
"Did I startle you?" asks he, his voice gentle and slightly–worried. "Goheno nin, I meant not to startle you."
I do not answer, not trusting myself to speak reasonably.
"Come, sit with me, I am in need of entertainment. Not that you are merely entertainment, only that I wish for a companion, that is, a friend, and you also appear to be lonely."
Lonely.
Yes, that is precisely what I am. That an elf who knows quite little of me would see that so quickly, strikes a despair in my heart. Has it grown to affect me so much, this state of being alone?
There is no response I give the prince save the silence that had dwelt here before he spoke.
"Heed not my request, 'tis unnecessary that you do so," he says, sighing and leaning his head back. "I have been here nearly every night since first I came here," continues the prince. "You too have been here."
"Yes, I have."
"You did not see me?"
"No."
Lies.
"I saw you. I wondered what brings you here so often, seeing as there are few who linger in these gardens the whole night through."
"Many things," is my cryptic reply, not willing to show any more of my heart.
"You are not wed?" he asks, and there is surprise in his voice.
"No."
"You must be young then, not yet having lived long."
A struggle I have to keep in the tears that long to freely flow, to rein in my emotions and feelings.
"No."
My voice is broken, quiet. I dare not speak another word. It is not as if any prince such as he would willingly lend his ear to my problems. He knows little of me, only my name and that I am alone. I would not trouble him with any of my sentiments, not even in the slightest.
The night gives way to silence once again, the only sound of squirrels dashing under the trees and a breeze singing through the crimson and yellow branches. Few leaves are broken away from their boughs, fluttering down to touch the stone floor.
A touch meets my shoulder, and I refuse to meet the eye of the one who now stands behind me, instead looking in my lap.
"Would you be so kind as to allow me to sit with you, my lady?"
I laugh quietly. "Should it not be I who asks? You are a prince, I am barely even acquainted with royalty."
"Is that an affirmative? I could not tell."
Oh, he teases me. What a horrible creature!
It is then that I look up and see his twinkling grey eyes and amused smile.
"Hm. If you wish for it to be an affirmative, then let it be so."
Ai, I must remember he is a prince, not to be questioned nor addressed flippantly. Yet he treats me as if I were his equal, therefore causing my attempts at respect to flee.
He takes a seat beside me, looking into the sky in deep thought.
"I too am alone," says he, as he moves his gaze from the sky to my face.
"Truly, you are alone?" I ask. "What of Tauriel, my lord?"
A bitter laugh comes from his lips. "She is but a sister to me. Naught more, even as I do long for more, but not from her. It will not come from her. I do not love her."
"I am sorry."
"Be not so, it was your words that spurred my thought on, bringing me to realise my utter folly." He sighs, grey eyes deep and thoughtful. "You never have done such a foolish thing as to convince yourself there is love when there is none, that hope remains when it has fled, and that I do admire."
"The former I have not done, the latter, I engage in every waking hour, even more so in my dreams. Why do you ask, my lord?"
"For no good cause, I merely wondered. Few of my friends know what it is to live alone. Yet I perceive that I am not as alone as you. It seems as though you have friends, but your friends do not know solitude, and they often are not with you, for they bear responsibilities that usurp your friendship."
My childish fancy shall surely return if this prince finds it fit to speak to me so at all times. I will not allow it to.
"Yes. How would you know of this so well?"
"Though I am not observant when it comes to the feelings and lives of others, I know because I have experienced the same thing. I have watched as all my friends married and had little time for me, looked on as our friendships seemed to be cast away. In your eyes I see the same emptiness that takes hold of me." He pauses, taking a single deep breath before continuing on. "I had crafted a hope for myself in Tauriel, but it was merely my yearning that drove me to become foolish and delude myself into believing she was the one for me. But I have resigned myself to being alone, to living the rest of my long life without a companion. I do not know why I speak to you of this, my lady, nor of why you listen."
Despite my efforts not to, I smile. "Perhaps we are kindred spirits, my lord, and that is why you speak and why I listen."
"Well, if we are kindred spirits, I do not see it fit for you to address me as your lord. I am simply Legolas."
I smile once again.
"Ai, but then you must not call me your lady!"
Legolas thinks for a moment before he replies. "Ah, but what if I wish to call you 'my lady', Anneth?"
The smile on his face, and the teasing in his eyes is quite enough to cause me to nod in agreement.
"Very well then. But I must inquire as to why you call me by my birth name–Legolas."
"I like it better. Are kindred spirits allowed special privileges, such as calling one another by whatever name they wish?"
"No."
Legolas furrows his brow.
"And why is that, Anneth?"
Again he teases me, and I answer without thought. "Because I decided it should be so."
"And why should I obey you, Anneth?"
"Are you always so teasing, Legolas?"
He shakes his head. "No. 'Tis that I have made few friends in the passing years, and you are–you are–a kindred spirit. I should treasure your friendship if you gave it to me."
The prince would treasure my friendship. That is some news, words that would simply enchant the spirit of my young, not yet of age self.
"But you are a prince! Surely there would be many who would be your friends!"
"Yes, there are many, but I do not wish to be their friends. Many long for social standing, and I will not give them that. I suppose I never have met one so unwilling to befriend me–that is not to say you are not unwilling, only that–you did not accept eagerly any hints toward friendship like many others."
I suppose I pity him. Strange of me to do so, yet it is clear there are few he calls his close friends, and the burden of being a prince must be heavy.
"I cannot pretend to understand the responsibility your title brings, nor the slight–horror–of status seeking souls."
"And I cannot pretend to understand what it is to have your few friends spend far too little amounts of time with you."
"The times they spend with me are not so few and far between any longer. And yet I cannot help but feel as if there is an underlying reason why they do so, it is as if–"
It as if they are to leave. As if I no longer will be part of their lives, and so they spend time with me to ensure they are burdened not with the guilt of ignoring me; they plan to sail and will not tell me.
If left alone in this moment I might weep, moving from sadness to foolish self pity and pain.
There is pain regardless, whether it be foolish not not. I would that I could live in my dreams always, to live in that perfect world where I have friends and a family, where there are children running about a house that is my own.
To sleep and know only my dreams, running from the painful reality I live in.
Ah, but that is fear. I will not succumb to it, though it takes me by the hand and then unmercifully flings me into a dark abyss where all lies on the brink of failure and panic lays its hands over my heart at all times.
Why, fear is terrible!
And yet I know it and have it.
"Anneth?"
Why does he call me by that name, and I allow him to do so?
It only reminds me of my father, of my brother, and yet it does not. He uses it cautiously, and entirely dishonest I would be if I claimed to dislike it.
As ridiculously and disgustingly trite as it sounds, I find that my name–no, no. 'Tis all wrong, for I cannot think of him so, nor allow my heart to give way to all the childish fancies that are no more that thoughts. Foolish, it is all foolish and silly. But I can permit myself to admire him, but only from a distance. I should be happy to do so, yet if still he continues to pursue but a friendship, if still he trusts me, I will be left helpless in my heart's deception.
"Anneth? You have not spoken in several minutes. I did not wish to disturb your thoughts, for you appeared to be quite–conflicted."
Oh, what would he know of my being conflicted!
But one glance into his eyes, and I understand he knows.
Kindred spirits, indeed.
Why, he is as lonely and pained as I, there are things that I do not know of that still plague him today.
"I am rather conflicted as you say. And I do not know why you have trusted me so in our conversation."
Legolas smiles, looking down at me. "Those who know of the same hurts often incline to one another, I should imagine."
"It might be so."
"What drove you to inform me that you did believe Tauriel and I were meant not for one another?"
"I know not."
Lies, once more.
"Oh, but you do, Anneth," he declares as a small gust of wind falls through the garden. "Why?"
"Because–" His eyes pierce mine, begging for an answer, for a cause. "Because I saw pain, needless pain." The sort of pain I will cause myself by entertaining my superficial fancies of knowing a prince.
The longing is too great a thing; to spend time with him would bring me to a place where I should believe I loved him solely because my young fancies took hold. Truly that is a frightful thing I will wisely bring not upon myself.
"I am glad of that," says he. "It was wise of you to tell me so, and those words were not easily forgotten, though in the moment I did not receive them. Truth is not forever pleasant. At times it is realised, and it brings pain. But soon that pain is forgotten, for because of truth, other horrors will be escaped."
"I do not believe I am as wise as you think me!"
"You surely are wiser than I," he observes, "for you have not deceived yourself into the belief you love. Even as I am older than you, in this you are more wise."
"I do not see how that is plausible, when I know so little of the affairs of love."
"What do you know much of?"
"Trifling things that never will bring me anywhere."
He laughs. "What 'trifling things' are these?"
"Languages that are spoken by none."
"That tells me naught."
"Do you know any who speak Adunaic?"
"That is the ancient language of Numenor, why should I know any who would find that useful?"
"I am learned in some parts of it."
Legolas glances at me once before laughing.
"You! Why is that?"
"Because there is nothing else that I should do."
His grey eyes widen. "What of your deplorable combat skills! Surely you should attempt to improve them!"
"It is hopeless, and I do not love the blade or the bow. I am not as you, a warrior, strong and fighting."
"Little I know of you, yet I should venture so far as to say you are strong. You must be, else I would not be speaking now with you. Long ago would you have sailed."
"I cannot bring myself to leave. I am bound here, in some sense, and shall not leave until the Sea-longing take me, or some grief drive me to."
"There might yet be some purpose for you, however small or minute it should be."
I snort rather disgustingly. "Purpose for me? In these dark times there is little I can do to further the cause of good. I am no warrior."
No response comes from Legolas, he only observes me for a moment.
"No purpose, Anneth? There is a purpose for all. Even for you, even as you believe there is none for you. It is the truth."
"Hmph. And what should you believe that is?"
"For what reason would I know, Anneth, I scarcely know you. Though I wish to change that, we are unmistakably kindred spirits." He smiles at me, that wonderful smile that I am sure melts the hearts of all the silly ellith in Mirkwood.
My own heart might too be swayed by his smile if I were of lesser sense.
I will be his friend, and not allow myself to think more of it.
lol guys fear not i am alive
also the verse at them top is why i have painted it to be so awful for elves to be alone in my story haha....it's quite angsty, i know lollll
Hello! How are you all! I'm back after my short break!
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May your pantries be filled with lembas bread as I go to find the Sun