Fill the Cup

Miriwen sat up as the three elves disappeared into the trees, switching instantly from their relaxed pose of insulting camaraderie to alert and skilled hunters once their weapons were in their hands.  Even though she knew where they had gone, once the foliage took them they faded from sight.  She sighed, glancing at her companions as they continued to take their ease on the short grass.  She knew they were safe here, but even so, and despite the passage of years in this haven, she automatically loosened her dagger in its sheath.  There was no harm in taking care, after all.

‘They would not have left us if they had any concerns,’ Elerrina observed, her voice like a warm spring in the freshness of a spring morning.  She drew up her knees and arranged the folds of her gown over them neatly before linking her fingers.

Miriwen shrugged. ‘I know.  But sometimes things happen unexpectedly – even here.’

‘Did you learn to fight in Lasgalen?’ Sirithiel smoothed down her untidy hair, picking out pieces of grass and rebraiding it.  ‘Would you be able to defend yourself if anything did attack us?’

‘The ellyth were given a certain amount of tuition,’ Miriwen informed them. ‘Not much – unless you really wanted to learn, and not many did. Advanced training was – very demanding. Some archery – enough to be useful in the case of attack.  That was considered all right for ellyth, because you stand at a reasonably safe distance and you can fire from the trees.  Other than that, we were taught a little about how to defend ourselves at close quarters – and how to make sure that we would not be taken alive – and that was about it.  I probably learned more about wielding a knife from my healer training – and from my naneth teaching me to joint venison.’

Elerrina shivered.  ‘I am glad I did not have to be trained to fight,’ she said. ‘I do not care for the thought of learning to kill.’

‘It is not as if there was a choice,’ Miriwen pointed out. ‘Orcs did not tend to come and ask you politely if you wanted to play.  You did what you had to do to survive.  And there were times,’ she sighed, ‘when survival appeared to be rather unlikely.’  She looked at them thoughtfully.  ‘It seems odd to me that you should have grown up here without any of those worries.’

Sirithiel considered her sister-in-law carefully.  ‘Elrohir says that his brother could never have been happy with a wife who had not lived in Middle Earth and who did not understand what it was like to fight against the Shadow.’

Miriwen nodded slowly.  ‘He knows Elladan very well.  I often think that they are closer than he and I will ever be – they have shared every breath from the first moment of their lives. I believe he is right.  My husband seems light-hearted – but underneath he hides much anger and grief, and it helps that we share that.’  She smiled. ‘Elrohir, on the other hand, seems more than content with a wife from the Blessed Realm.’

‘It is odd,’ Elerrina remarked, ‘that two people who look so alike should be so different.’ 

‘But it is a good thing,’ Sirithiel stretched, cat-like.  ‘I would not choose to have Elrohir any other than he is.  What shall we do while we wait for them to finish playing in the woods?’

‘They would be mortified if they knew that we considered them to be playing,’ Elerrina remarked.  ‘They are brave hunters, seeking to feed their loving wives.’

‘They are little ellyn taking the opportunity to fool around,’ laughed Sirithiel.

‘They are both,’ Miriwen smiled with a wealth of warm affection for all three.  ‘And I am glad to see it.’

‘Do you think they will bring game for us to get ready?’ Elerrina asked, wrinkling her nose. ‘I am not sure that I would know what to do with it.  I am afraid I have had little experience of expeditions such as this.’

‘They will almost undoubtedly bring back rabbits,’ Miriwen assured her, ‘but do not concern yourself.  They are experienced warriors and they will know better than to leave it to us to dress the meat.  In fact, if we make a point of looking very admiringly at them, I am sure they will be willing to show us how self-sufficient they can be and prepare the whole meal.’

‘You do not know how to cook?’ Sirithiel asked Legolas’s bride.

Elerrina shook her head.  ‘My naneth considered it to be unsuitable.  I can sew, and weave tapestries, play the harp and dance – all sorts of accomplishments of varying degrees of usefulness.  I have been trained to manage large estates, keep accounts and organise gatherings of all sorts – but I cannot cook.’

‘It is probably as well that you married our Thranduilion then,’ Miriwen shrugged.  ‘Cooking and cleaning are unlikely to be major parts of your role as his wife.’

‘I do not like to look a fool, though,’ she replied, twisting her chestnut braids round her finger.  ‘It is difficult enough at times as it is, with some of the ellyth in Thranduil’s household turning up their noses at me and laughing because I do not know their ways of doing things. It is a relief to get away sometimes.’

‘Have you told Legolas?’ Sirithiel enquired. ‘He would soon put a stop to such nonsense!’

She shook her head.  ‘No – and you are not to tell him, either!  How do you tell people to change the way they feel?  They would just despise me even more.’

‘But, Elerrina,’ Miriwen protested, ‘you should not have to tolerate bad behaviour!’

‘They do not behave badly exactly,’ she said wryly.  ‘They exchange glances and sigh and tell me that it has always been done in such a way.  They giggle and look at me across a room.  They stop talking when I approach.  They shake their heads over my choice of food and style of dress. It is all nothing – but the cumulative effect is to make certain I continue to feel very much an outsider.’

‘They are jealous,’ Sirithiel said.

‘They may be jealous,’ Miriwen retorted, ‘but this cannot be allowed to continue.’  She flicked her gleaming dark hair back over her shoulders.  ‘It is a shame,’ she mused, ‘that Legolas has no naneth to help – and although mine has a good understanding of spiteful ellyth, she has little knowledge of how things operate in the king’s household.  I would think your best source of advice would be Elladan’s naneth.’

‘Or Lady Galadriel,’ offered Sirithiel.  ‘When we get back, we will consult them.’

Elerrina nodded, unexpectedly feeling better already for the whole-hearted support of her friends.

‘We will sort them out,’ Miriwen assured her.  ‘And we will not involve the males at all.  They would not understand anyway – either they would say it was not worth bothering over or they would start shouting and giving orders.  The poor things have no subtlety.’

They sat silently for a while, enjoying the humming of insects and the sensuous rustling of the leaves in the gentle breeze.  Small birds enchanted them with their efforts to impress, their calls pure and loud.  Sirithiel closed her eyes and lifted her face to the dappled sunlight, allowing it to flow over her skin and into her heart.

‘Legolas is not the only one who would like to desert the ordered streets for a home in the woodland,’ she remarked.  ‘I was not even conceived when my parents left the Golden Wood, yet I long for the forests.’  She tilted her head, opening her eyes to observe the others.  ‘There are many people, my parents among them, who hope that Lord Celeborn’s arrival, together with that of King Thranduil, portends the establishment of new forest kingdoms.’

‘I have heard it said,’ Miriwen nodded.  ‘No more than that.’

Elerrina drew a sharp breath.  ‘My parents would not be happy,’ she said with foreboding.  ‘They were displeased enough at my leaving my home to come here.  They would be furious if Legolas were to take me off to some distant woodland realm.’

‘What does that matter?’ asked Sirithiel.  ‘You are wed now – it is too late for them to object. And, when you visit them, it makes little difference whether it takes you two days or two weeks to cover the distance. What would you like to do?’

She looked at her hands, her hair slipping forwards and covering her face.  They watched her with interest.  While they had had time to learn to know one another, Elerrina was still almost a stranger to them.  She had spent some time visiting her kin in the city, staying mainly with the twins’ daernaneth, but only with her still-recent marriage had she been freed to become one of them.  When she looked at them, a brilliant smile lighting her face, they were thrilled to see her shedding more of the shackles that tied her to her old life.  ‘I would go happily,’ she said. ‘It would be exciting to be part of something new.’

‘And Legolas’s desire to be among trees would not have anything to do with encouraging you?’

‘Well,’ she returned mischievously.  ‘It would not be a deterrent.’    

‘It is strange,’ Sirithiel mused, ‘how a race of elves that produced Lady Galadriel has become so conventional in their ways.’

‘She is – awe-inspiring,’ Elerrina replied, ‘but she is not exactly typical, is she? I cannot imagine that she ever was.’

‘I suppose not.’  Sirithiel smiled.  ‘My parents were most impressed when Elrohir and I wished to wed  – Lord Celeborn is his daeradar and he was their lord, but, truth to tell, they were a little scared at the idea of Lady Galadriel becoming my daernaneth-in-law.’

‘I cannot imagine her getting worked up over the idea of skinning a rabbit,’ Elerrina reflected.

Miriwen laughed. ‘No – any rabbit approached by her would lie down and volunteer to be skinned.  It is not really such a terrible task,’ she added. ‘Once you have learned what to do, it is quite straightforward.’

She and Sirithiel looked up simultaneously and turned their heads.  ‘They are returning,’ Miriwen said.  ‘Their hunt has been successful.’

‘That was amazing!’ Elerrina remarked.  ‘How did you know that?’

‘The trees – do you not hear them?’ Sirithiel asked.

Elerrina drew a deep breath.  ‘I have a lot to learn,’ she said.  ‘It would seem that the Noldor do not know as much as they think they do.’

‘Probably not,’ Miriwen agreed amiably. ‘Nobody does – not even Lady Galadriel.’

***

They sat round the ashes of the campfire, the scent of their meal still lingering in the undergrowth, as the sun lowered in the sky, a glowing orb of copper fire casting long shadows across the grass.  Elerrina leaned her head back and looked up at Legolas, thinking how alien he appeared at that angle, but, nevertheless, how comfortable she felt with his arm round her and the light of his presence combining with her own inner flame.   She turned, lifting her legs over his, so that she could twine both arms around him.  He lowered his chin and smiled at her.

‘It is so agreeable out here,’ she said softly. ‘Just us.’

‘I have always enjoyed escaping from the fuss and formality of my adar’s court,’ he admitted, ‘to the trees and the night sky.’  His caress was so gentle it was little more than a thought. ‘And now I have you with me and I am crowned with stars,’ he said with pleasure.

Elladan nudged Miriwen and rolled his eyes for her alone to see. 

‘Be fair,’ she murmured.  ‘They have had so little time as yet.’  She took his hand in hers.  ‘I almost envy them,’ she said softly. ‘If we could be there again – it is a very special time.’

He grasped her hand and lifted it to his lips. ‘We do not need to do that, my jewel,’ he told her. ‘Every day is special with you – and each is better than the one before. I cannot imagine my life without you.’

Her face softened.  ‘It was a long wait,’ she told him, ‘with no hope of it ever ending in fulfilment, but it was worth it.’

‘I do not remember you from those distant days,’ he said ruefully, ‘though I have racked my brains.’

‘I know,’ she sighed. ‘You were travelling another path in your pain. I never expected to have any place in your memory – but I recall you.’  She rested her head on his shoulder.

‘As soon as I saw you with my eyes open to the possibilities of love,’ he told her, ‘I knew.’

‘Mush,’ whispered Elrohir, tickling Sirithiel’s ear and making her wriggle.

‘Of course,’ she agreed, stretching her hand up to stroke his cheek.  ‘I only married you because I wanted a new gown.’

‘And I only married you because your adar insisted,’ he told her, as their eyes met, leaving them breathless. ‘Do you think,’ he asked confidentially, ‘that they would notice if we were to take a short stroll?’

She twisted towards him.  ‘They might notice, but I would be surprised if they were concerned,’ she said, rising to her feet and taking his hand. ‘Come. Let us go and entertain ourselves elsewhere whilst we wait for the moon to rise.’