I'm there in the water (Legolas)
Aug 27, 2018 16:00:15 GMT -5
Post by Mîrioniel on Aug 27, 2018 16:00:15 GMT -5
TA 2941
The day before had been most interesting. Mîrioniel had sought to come to Imladris to get over her anger at a certain Marchwarden, and how he had insulted her, cutting her so deep she couldnt' stand to remain in the Golden Wood. Arwen had provided grand distractions, and brought happiness back to Mîrioniel's heart. They had laughed and all her pains and woes had fallen from her shoulders. It would have been enough in itself, until yesterday. Whilst enjoying an afternoon tea, they found themselves intruded upon by a most welcome guest.
Mîrioniel smiled as she walked alongside the river, watching it trip and roll over the rocks, down the ravine. Holding her hand over the water, she saw its distorted reflection. She was recalling some years ago, when Arwen had sought to marry her off to every eligible bachelor in all of the Arda. At the time, the elleth had laughed it off, even the mere suggestion of a certain elven prince of Mirkwood. Now she had met him in person, she had to admit, he certainly had his merits. Mîrioniel lowered her hand back to her side.
Upon the ridge, she had tethered her horse, whilst she had scrambled down to the water side. It was secluded down here, quiet, and the waters continued to sing their songs to her. Finding a large, flat rock, Mîrioniel climbed on to it, her eyes following the flow of the river, until it disappeared around the bend.
Whilst her eyes were trained upon the river, her mind was treading other paths. She recalled Legolas' face, his manners, his gentle tone and there was no denying Arwen's assertion that he was handsome. Their repast yesterday had made her forget entirely the cause of her even being in Rivendell. Another consideration, he was of her station, royalty. In theory, she was still the heir apparent to Lothlórien, and if she requested Lady Galadriel to recognise that title, she would, and the woodland would be hers. Not that such a demand would ever be made. Still, she was a princess, daughter to a king, as Legolas was son to a king. Maybe Arwen had been wise all along to suggest him as a suitor to her.
Sighing, she turned from the ravine, looking at the rocky path back up to her horse. If she were lucky, she might seek out Arwen, and perhaps they could accidentally happen upon Legolas before he left for Mirkwood. Her dear friend would be able to give her advice on what to say, and do, and would no doubt pick out the finest gown for her to wear to impress. Somehow, Arwen instinctively knew all these things. As the river did not linger in one place long, so she would not let her thoughts stew. Those hateful words would be swept from her mind, and she would find out what new opportunities lie beyond the next bend.
The day before had been most interesting. Mîrioniel had sought to come to Imladris to get over her anger at a certain Marchwarden, and how he had insulted her, cutting her so deep she couldnt' stand to remain in the Golden Wood. Arwen had provided grand distractions, and brought happiness back to Mîrioniel's heart. They had laughed and all her pains and woes had fallen from her shoulders. It would have been enough in itself, until yesterday. Whilst enjoying an afternoon tea, they found themselves intruded upon by a most welcome guest.
Mîrioniel smiled as she walked alongside the river, watching it trip and roll over the rocks, down the ravine. Holding her hand over the water, she saw its distorted reflection. She was recalling some years ago, when Arwen had sought to marry her off to every eligible bachelor in all of the Arda. At the time, the elleth had laughed it off, even the mere suggestion of a certain elven prince of Mirkwood. Now she had met him in person, she had to admit, he certainly had his merits. Mîrioniel lowered her hand back to her side.
Upon the ridge, she had tethered her horse, whilst she had scrambled down to the water side. It was secluded down here, quiet, and the waters continued to sing their songs to her. Finding a large, flat rock, Mîrioniel climbed on to it, her eyes following the flow of the river, until it disappeared around the bend.
Whilst her eyes were trained upon the river, her mind was treading other paths. She recalled Legolas' face, his manners, his gentle tone and there was no denying Arwen's assertion that he was handsome. Their repast yesterday had made her forget entirely the cause of her even being in Rivendell. Another consideration, he was of her station, royalty. In theory, she was still the heir apparent to Lothlórien, and if she requested Lady Galadriel to recognise that title, she would, and the woodland would be hers. Not that such a demand would ever be made. Still, she was a princess, daughter to a king, as Legolas was son to a king. Maybe Arwen had been wise all along to suggest him as a suitor to her.
Sighing, she turned from the ravine, looking at the rocky path back up to her horse. If she were lucky, she might seek out Arwen, and perhaps they could accidentally happen upon Legolas before he left for Mirkwood. Her dear friend would be able to give her advice on what to say, and do, and would no doubt pick out the finest gown for her to wear to impress. Somehow, Arwen instinctively knew all these things. As the river did not linger in one place long, so she would not let her thoughts stew. Those hateful words would be swept from her mind, and she would find out what new opportunities lie beyond the next bend.