Chapter 3

Nearly two months passed without any incident. Gollum was never found, though Ada would not allow any of the warriors to go too far into the southern part of the kingdom, especially near the city of Dol Guldur. Ada had learned his lesson about that in the past.

My father also carefully avoided speaking to me about the trip. He was not happy at all that I was going, but had finally accepted that I would not be talked out of it. As king, he of course had the right to forbid me to go, but he knew that if he did so, not only would I be seethingly angry with him, but Legolas and Arahil would be disappointed as well. He wisely chose not to upset his three children.

Our company of ten, consisting entirely of trustworthy warriors chosen personally by Captain Nurhoth, would head south to the Old Forest Road, then east across the Misty Mountains, down to the valley and into Rivendell. It would not be an easy journey, as we would have to be on our guard for giant spiders and orcs, especially once we got into the mountains.

We were, however, lucky in the fact that it was still warm. We had plenty of supplies, including more lembas bread than any of us would ever want to see in our long lives. We had more than enough provisions to last us well into winter, just in case, though we would be in Imladris long before the first snow fell. Both Ada and Nurhoth wanted us to be extremely prepared.

At dawn on the morning of our departure, everyone was doing last-minute preparations. Nurhoth was down at the stables barking orders to the grooms who were readying the horses. Legolas was down in the armory stocking up on arrows for everyone whilst I was in our bedroom packing the rest of our clothes. For the journey itself I would be wearing a warrior’s tunic and leggings, done in Mirkwood’s signature brown and green, as opposed to the long, flowing dresses I usually wore in court. Obviously it would be much more comfortable and practical for me to wear such clothes on our trip, but I wanted to have some more formal things to wear once we arrived in Rivendell. Hence, the packing.

I finally got everything packed and began to gather up my weapons. To my back I strapped a quiver and simple short-bow. I was nowhere near as skilled as my husband at archery, so I did not even bother with elaborate longbows. I did, however, have two white-handled long knives in the quiver as well as a dagger in my right boot. I could draw any of these quicker than sight and seldom missed my target.

Once I had these securely on my person, I stopped to look in the mirror. Everything seemed to be in its proper place, including the tight braids I had woven into my hair. It was long, nearly halfway down my back, and shined in the morning sun. A great source of pride is an elf’s hair, and I was extremely happy of mine.

I saw Ada behind me in the mirror before he spoke. He stood in the doorway and said sadly, "You look so much like your mother, my Morfiniel . It was often that I saw Pellalómë in warrior-garb, as dark and beautiful as the moon. When the light caught her hair it shone with silver streaks, as does yours."

I turned around as he stepped into the room, holding what appeared to be a sheathed sword behind his back. "Thank you, Ada," I said softly. My mother had been a rare beauty even among elves, all of whom are exceedingly attractive. For anyone to compare me to her was the greatest compliment I could receive.

"You are quite welcome, especially because it is the truth," Ada replied.

After we had finished smiling at each other, there was an awkward silence. I knew what he was thinking about. "Ada," I said. "I will be all right. Hopefully we will steer clear of orcs, but even if we do not, I am capable of defending myself. Are you forgetting who my parents were? Besides that, Legolas will be there. We will take care of each other."

"I fear for him too," Ada said, holding up a hand as I began to protest. "It is not because of what happened to your parents, though obviously I am thinking about that, as well. I cannot put a finger on what exactly is bothering me, I just…" He paused, searching for the words. "I have a bad feeling about this. My intuition is telling me that something bad is going to befall you or Legolas. And that terrifies me."

"Oh Ada," I said. The fear in his voice brought tears to my eyes. I hugged him tightly, and he held my head to his broad chest as he had done so often when I was a child. Ada was tall, even for an elf, with broad-shoulders and big arms perfect for hugging little elflings. I had always felt secure in his embrace, as if my Ada was king of the whole world and not just Mirkwood; no monsters could get me as long as he was there to give me hugs.

"I love you so much, iel nîn ," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "If anything happens to you and Legolas I will not be able to bear it. Already so much death…"

"Stop," I said, lifting my head to stare into his pale-blue eyes. "It is not your fault that they are dead. They went too far south, we were not aware of the danger in that part of the forest then."

"But your father—"

"My father was captain of the guard. It was his duty to lead the patrol," I said.

"Yes, and he was following my orders," Ada said.

I sighed. There was no arguing with him. He was going to blame himself for my parents’ deaths for the rest of his long life, and there was nothing that I or anyone else could do about it.

"Even now, so many years later, I still picture Dûrborion’s eyes as he lay on that couch. He trusted me implicitly and I sent him and your mother to their deaths."

At that I did cry, picturing my real Adar, a courageous warrior who had died defending a routine patrol that had strayed too far to the dark southern part of the wood. I still remembered the day it had happened…

********

…I was only fifteen years old when my parents died, still a very small elfling, almost a baby really. My father was captain of the Mirkwood guard and my mother was a prominent warrior. Ada Dûrborion was a close companion of King Thranduil and had known him for many years. In turn my mother Pellalómë became quite close to Queen Aranel.

Arahil and I spent hours at the palace with the young princes, Mellossë and Legolas. Arahil was the oldest, at two years older than Mellossë. Legolas was fourteen years younger than his brother and I was eighteen years younger. The four of us were always getting into trouble. In between lessons we would play games just generally try to annoy the adults. They did, however, get a laugh out of watching me tucking up my skirts to run after the boys. I always had a terrible time keeping up with them because of my clothes and because I was smaller. I used to fall on my face a hundred times a day.

So it was that fateful day, when the four of us were playing hide and seek. We had split up into teams, oldest versus youngest, which was how Legolas and I ended up behind a huge curtain in the front hallway, giggling breathlessly whilst trying not to give ourselves away.

We had been hiding for about ten minutes when suddenly a great shout went up from one of the sentries outside. Someone else shouted for the king and a lot of people began hustling about. Legolas and I peeked out from behind the curtain to see King Thranduil and Queen Aranel come running into the hall at full speed, both of them extremely pale and horror-stricken. They looked so frightened that Legolas and I became scared ourselves. To my surprise the prince reached for my hand then, something he had never done. Mellossë and Arahil were just beginning to appreciate the opposite sex, but the younger prince of Mirkwood was still young enough to be of the opinion that all maidens had cooties.

"How long?" Thranduil asked, his voice anxious and worried.

"They are coming right now, my lord," someone answered.

The huge wooden palace doors creaked open very quickly. Everyone began talking at once. My eyes widened in shock as I recognized an elf-warrior named Nurhoth stumble inside, blood running from a cut above his eye. Several more elves ran in, all in various states of injury, followed by two others carrying the limp form of another in their arms.

"That is Belegorn!" Legolas whispered, biting his lip.

Someone yelled, "Sire!" and Thranduil’s head snapped toward the door. He immediately ran outside. The queen put her hand over her mouth and began to sob quietly.

"Where did your Ada go, Legolas?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"I do not know," he replied. His lower lip had begun to quiver. He was only four years older than I and neither of us had ever seen anything like this.

I heard Thranduil shout, "We must get him to the infirmary!" He came back inside carrying a tall elf in his strong arms. Tears were streaming down his face as he cradled the warrior to him. I could not see the elf’s face, only that dark, dark hair and his green tunic covered in blood.

Nurhoth had somehow stopped the bleeding from his eye, and went to help the king. "It is too late, sire, he will never make it."

Then the injured warrior spoke. " Aran nîn ," he said, and ice water flowed into my veins. I recognized that voice immediately. It was the light, musical tenor of someone who sang me songs about the trees, who had taught me about Gil-galad and Beren and Lúthien, who made my mother giggle when he kissed the back of her neck. It was he who hugged me when monsters came in the night and kissed my knees when I skinned them. It was my father, and he was dying.

"ADA!" I shrieked so loudly that it startled the king. He stumbled and would have fallen to the floor if Nurhoth had not caught he and my father at the same time. Legolas grabbed my arm with both his little hands but I tore myself away from his grasp and launched myself across the room.

The queen intercepted me, picking me up and cradling me against her. "NO!" I screamed. I beat my small fists against her and tore at her long golden hair. "Let me go! I want my Ada!"

"Hush pen-neth ," Queen Aranel said. "We are trying to help him."

"Sorayaiel," my Ada croaked. I jostled and fought Aranel until she finally let me go. I ran over to the couch on which they had placed my father after discerning that he would not make it to the infirmary.

His head was in Thranduil’s lap, and he was covered in blood. I could not see what had caused the injury, but I had never seen so much blood in my life. "What happened to you Ada?" I sobbed. "Where is Nana?"

He fought to speak, blood sputtering out of his mouth. "I can no longer feel her in my head. I cannot hear her thoughts," he said. "There were yrchs …"

A coughing fit cut him off. He coughed up black blood and collapsed back onto the couch, breathing hard. After a moment, he fought to speak again. "L-listen to me. I am going to Mandos now, darling. You must…be strong…"

"No," I sobbed. "Ada please do not go!"

Suddenly my brother was there beside me. I had no idea from where he had come, but I clung to him in sorrow and utter terror. "Adar," he whispered.

"Ara-Arahil," our father said. He smiled. "I love you both, sellin nîn. "

"Im meleth-le, adar," Arahil said, tears running down his face.

"Thran…duil," my father stammered. The king stroked his hair away from his sweaty face. "You will…take them?"

The king smiled through his tears. "I will love them as if they were my own, Dûrborion," he said. He looked over at Queen Aranel, who nodded.

" Hannon-le, mellon nîn ," my father said. He smiled once more and closed his eyes, slipping silently away to the Halls of Mandos, to join Belegorn and the other warriors who had died in the battle.

I felt utterly lost. I looked over at the queen, who had her arms wrapped around a crying Mellossë, with Legolas behind her. "Where is my Nana?" I asked.

Thranduil lovingly set my father’s head on the couch and knelt in front of me. I was still clinging to Arahil’s leg. "Your Naneth and Adar are together now. They have gone to the Halls of Mandos, in Valinor, where all slain warriors go. Do you remember those stories?" Thranduil asked.

"Y-yes," I said. "But I do not want them to go!"

"It cannot be helped, little sister," Arahil said, wrenching my arms from around his leg and stooping in front of me. "I know it hurts, because my heart is empty too. But you must be strong, Sorayaiel. You will see Naneth and Adar again one day, I promise. But for now you must have strength." He hugged me tight. Even then, my brother knew the right words to say. By comforting me, he had comforted us all, a little.

King Thranduil knelt beside us. Arahil looked away quickly, for the king had my father’s blood all over his royal robes. Thranduil closed his eyes for a moment, his grief spilling from them, then looked at us. "We will be strong together," he said. "For though we will never try to replace your parents, Queen Aranel and I will love you as we love our princes. We will always protect you both. You are our family now." He hugged us both to him, and fresh tears flowed.

Just then I felt someone hugging at my back. I turned to see Legolas, who had previously been clinging to his mother’s skirts, with tears streaking down his little face. "I love you Sorayaiel," he said, and for the very first time I saw the thought in his head and felt it coming from his body. Though at that time I did not know how much our love for each other would blossom and grow into the beautiful thing it eventually became, I knew that he did love both Arahil and me and would welcome us as his foster-siblings.

The king and queen were true to their word. They loved all four of us unconditionally, and eventually Arahil and I began to call them Adar and Naneth, though we never forgot our real parents. The kingdom happily accepted us as well, eventually referring to me as the princess and Arahil as the third prince of Mirkwood.

********

On the day of our departure to Imladris, Ada Thranduil hugged me once more and kissed my forehead. "I am not trying to scare you, Sorayaiel," he said. "I only wanted you to know how you felt."

"I know how you feel, Ada," I replied. "I only hope that this guilt does not consume you. You must remember that though my parents are dead, Arahil and I are alive, and we do not blame you. I love you very much and I know that my brother does too."

He smiled but said nothing. I was not finished speaking. "I do not mean to say that I feel no apprehension about the trip," I said. "I am only trying to say that Legolas and I will watch out for ourselves and everyone in our party. I will be on my guard, just like you taught me. I will not let you down."

"You could never let me down," he said. "You are brave and courageous, and you always place others before yourself, Dûrborioniel."

I blushed. "I do not have to think about that, it is my nature. I was taught well, for I am Dûrborioniel as well as Thranduiliel."

He smiled again and said, "I will try not to worry about you or my son, but it will be hard."

"That is all I ask, Ada," I replied, smiling back. "I just want you to try."

 "I do have something for you that will help me to worry less," he said, finally pulling the sword out from behind his back. "This is for you. It is Celebmegil, your father’s sword. I waited to give it to you until I thought you would need it most."

I took it, unsheathing it to glint in the summer sun. I practiced it a bit, jabbing at an imaginary foe. It was quite light and easy to handle, and with practice I would become very skilled with it.

I imagined my real father in the woods near Dol Guldur, wielding this very sword, felling any evil that came into his path. My heart swelled, with love and sorrow for the parent I had lost. It also filled with love and gratitude for the one standing in front of me. I sheathed the sword and embraced him again.

I felt my husband approaching before he spoke, standing in the doorway. "Everything is ready," he said softly. I felt his reluctance to enter the room and my heart went out to him. He knew that Ada and I had just come to an understanding, and his princely manners would not allow him to interrupt the moment.

There is, however, a bond between elven parents and children as there is between husband and wife, though of a different type. Ada felt Legolas’s feelings too, and smiled at him. "Come in, my son," he said.

Legolas smiled and stepped into our bedchamber. Ada beckoned to him, and his son stepped into his father’s embrace, which was difficult because Legolas was nearly as tall as Ada. "You are always welcome, Legolas," Ada said. "Do not ever think you are interrupting. I would think you would have seen so in your wife’s thoughts."

"I did," my husband said, returning the hug. "But I did not wish to be insubordinate." Ada smiled again. He had taught all of his children well. No one could ever say that we did not know our manners.

"Step back, my son," Ada said, breaking the embrace. "Let me look at you."

Legolas did as he was told, taking a sheepish step backward, allowing Ada to see him better. He was wearing a green and brown fitted tunic extremely similar to mine, with cuffs on his arms to hold back the long-sleeved silver shirt underneath, and to keep it out of his line of fire. The cuffs were engraved with trees and the royal symbol of Mirkwood, and had once belonged to Ada. He wore leggings and an intricately detailed quiver on his back, engraved with a peacock. His longbow and arrows were very dark, and much more elaborate than mine, though his long-knives were virtually identical. His golden hair fell about his shoulders in a straight line; the tight braids I had woven into the back and sides earlier in the morning were still intact. His piercing sky-blue eyes regarded Ada with a mix of love and admiration. All in all, he looked very graceful and regal, and quite handsome. Very much like his father.

 Ada was still smiling, but shaking his head and near tears. "I cannot believe that all of my children are so grown-up," he said. "It seems only yesterday that you two were chasing each other through the palace halls playing tag and practically knocking down everything in your paths."

We all laughed. Ada smirked, one eyebrow going up. "Then, of course, came knowing looks over afternoon tea, flirtations on the archery range, and stolen kisses in dark corners," he teased.

Legolas and I both turned quite red. "We should not have tried to hide it from you, Ada," I admitted.

"Hide what?" Ada said, laughing. "Everyone knew you two were soulmates by the time you were ten years old. You were inseparable. Dûrborion, Pellalómë, Aranel and I talked about it all the time, especially after you each started mysteriously knowing where the other was all the time, even when you were far apart, and when you began to finish each other’s sentences. We knew that your souls had bonded as only happens once in an elf’s lifetime, that your minds were forever joined."

Legolas, who was normally extremely reserved and tried hard to keep his emotions utterly in check, had reddened to the points of his ears just like his father, though in embarrassment instead of anger. "Well, you might have told us ," he said. "It would have made many things a lot easier."

Ada laughed then, a loud booming hearty sound that made Legolas and me laugh as well, despite ourselves. "Oh but Aranel and I got quite the joy out of watching you two squirm once you had realized your feelings for each other," he said. "One cannot fight the inevitable, so we both sat back and enjoyed the ride. The queen was delighted to watch you two fall in love, as was I."

I had known this, though I could not help feeling sad again that day, thinking about Nana Aranel. She, like my birth parents, had gone to Valinor prematurely, though at least we had been allowed more time with her. She had been, to our delight, ecstatic when Legolas and I had finally announced that we were in love, as had Ada. We had hidden it at first, afraid that they would not approve, since for nearly a thousand years we had been foster-siblings. But as we had just heard from Ada, this was definitely not the case.

Legolas sensed my sadness and was sorrowful himself in thinking about his nana, with her bright, beautiful green eyes and her fair, open face. We both remembered her shimmering golden hair falling freely around us as she squeezed us tightly and showered us with kisses. Legolas put his arm around my shoulders as we shared this memory, and I swore I could almost hear Nana’s sweet, musical laughter floating through the palace as it had done so often when she was still in Middle-Earth.

Ada was remembering too, smiling sadly at us. "Sometimes I can still feel her presence in my mind, even though she is in the Undying Lands," he said. "And I know that she is as proud of you both as am I."

 I felt my eyes begin to glisten like my father’s and husband’s. I stepped forward and embraced Ada again. He kissed my hair and said, "Please come back to me, both of you. If I lost either of you I would fall apart."

"We will come back," Legolas said firmly, grasping Ada’s arm. "I promise."

I saw in his mind that he meant this implicitly. I had, of course, been a little nervous about the journey, but seeing my husband’s fierce determination as well as knowing that he always kept his promises made me much more confident.

Ada kissed the top of Legolas’s head as well, though he did not have to bend down to do so as he did with me. "Come," he said, placing an arm around each of our shoulders. "Let us finish getting your horses ready so you may start on your journey."

We made our way to the stables in a comfortable silence, with Ada holding us both close to him the whole way.

An hour later everything was ready. Ada embraced Legolas and me one last time, and wished our other eight companions good journey. I said good-bye to my brothers, as well. Arahil embraced me heartily with tears in his eyes. We had seldom been parted in all our lives; though he was not as apprehensive about me going as Ada was, he was still a little nervous. But he knew I was plenty capable of taking care of myself and was confident we would all come back in one piece.

Mellossë, on the other hand, was quite distant, only quickly hugging me and muttering something before stepping away. It was true that I had never been as close to Mellossë, who was eighteen years older than I, as I had been to Legolas and Arahil, but his dismissal still hurt and confused me. He was downright cold to Legolas, who was very upset and troubled that his older brother would not even meet his eyes and was, for some reason, alienating us both. I thought that perhaps he was jealous. Legolas’s thoughts agreed with this assumption, but he also suspected there was more to it than that. We silently agreed to have a long talk with our brother when we returned home.

********

Morfiniel --dark haired daughter

Iel nîn --my daughter

Aran --king

Pen-neth --young one

Yrchs --orcs

Dûrborioniel-"daughter of Dûrborion"

Thranduiliel—"daughter of Thranduil"

Sellin nin --my children

Hannon-le --thank you