Chapter 47 – Home?

Rhinure watched as the Avari novices practised. Their young faces were screwed up in intense concentration as they listened to their teachers. Tiny little Avari, all dressed in black, identical warriors without consideration of sex, without consideration of age, without consideration of personal inclination. Little Avari, the next generation of fighters for the Clan. If they fought well, one day soon – very soon, they would join their older counterparts and take their part in defending their people.

Rhinure was proud of them – how could she not be when she had been one of them once upon a time? What they did, they did well, they did with dedication, if not by choice. Every Avari, when he or she became old enough to wield a blade, was enrolled in training. All were taught to become warriors, to protect their Clan, to serve their Clan. It was the first lesson they learnt and one that was repeated all their lives – serve, protect, fight. 

This life long lesson created warriors of the highest calibre. Not many would be able to withstand Avari might in battle, but this prowess was dearly paid for. As Rhinure watched the lesson she wondered what these little Avari would have become if they had been given a choice. Would one have forsaken the blade to perhaps become a painter? Would one have made music to sooth the ears? Rhinure would never know, for the Avari were warriors. So it had always been, so it would always be. To regret what she could not change was futile and Rhinure was not given to futility.

She was proud of her people, she was proud of herself. Though choice had been taken away from them all, they still strove to excel. They did not bemoan their fate but accepted it and moved on. The Avari numbers were not many, less than the Wood-elves, but unlike the Eldar all of them – every male, every female, every child, was trained to defend their Clan. They did it with a dedication that bordered on obsession for after all, it was all they knew – all they had ever been taught.

Rhinure herself was a product of that teaching. She could fight and she could kill and she did both well. She could connive, manipulate, and bully – everything that was needed to defend her people. She was good at it – she knew this without any false modesty, but sometimes, especially recently, she wondered if it was enough. She wondered in the deepest corners of her heart if her ability to rule was the only worthwhile thing she had to offer. She looked at Legolas, and wondered if his life would have been better if she had not been in it. He was a bright light in the life of the people around him. He brought joy to their lives without ever faltering in his duty. Rhinure knew that in his position she would be unable to be half as much.

Legolas – Rhinure lightly brushed her lips remembering their last kiss. Like her, he was a ruler, as committed to his people as she was to hers. But he was so much more – he was a friend, a companion, and a son. There was more to his life than his people and somehow, even in Rhinure’s measure, that did not lessen his value. He was still a Prince, and a good one.

Rhinure did not understand how he managed it all, how he could simultaneously manage to be all he was to different people and still be Legolas. The thought of him made her heart lighten, made her smile slightly even though her body ached for him. If she were with him, everything would be better – somehow his presence did that to her. She was not sure how but he would do it.

Rhinure shook her head in disgust at her silly daydreams. She did not need him to make things better, she could and would do that for herself. She was capable of resolving her own problems without help. This was Avari business and with the Avari it would remain. She did not need any Eldar to interfere in her life. When he was needed, she would call him but not now. She did not need him – she still had some modicum of pride left in her.

And after all, why should he want to help her? What could she offer him? As Sacrifice she had given him the Avari troops he needed, and when the time came he would give her the backing she needed against the Lost Ones. It was a clean, clear bargain, one that did not put any further obligations on Legolas. She had no right to expect anything else from him – she had no right to expect him to hold her and shield her from all the troubles that routinely plagued her. Even if he wanted her to, she could not do the same for him.

And why would he want her to sooth him, to hold him? He had family, friends, loved ones – what did she have that he could not get from elsewhere? The love he wanted, she could not give him, the support he had from his father and people already. Even the sex he could get from elsewhere if he so wished. She would not stop him – she could not stop him. He had sworn no vows as she had to him. He owned her – she was his. She could not make the same claim on him. Could she?

“Mistress, look at us!”

A high, childish voice pulled her out of her dark thoughts. She waved to the dark-haired child, re-focusing on what she should have been watching all along. Once again, she had managed to lose herself in thoughts of Legolas. That would not do – these children deserved her full attention. She had promised to watch them and so she would.

Even though Rhinure concentrated on the novices, calling out in encouragement, making suggestions when one faltered, complimenting when one succeeded, a part of her mind remained on her husband. That part of her mind whispered that Legolas was as much hers as she was his. He might have not have sworn Avari oaths to her but he had sworn vows to her. How dare she undervalue his vows and call them meaningless? Had he not promised to respect her? To honour her? How dare she forget that? He might not be Avari, but he was an honourable elf and he had made vows to her. He was her husband and that counted for something. Did it not?

Rhinure very deliberately squashed that traitorous part of her – Legolas had also vowed to love her and he did not. While she agreed that his vows were not meaningless, they could not be taken at face value either. She was not about to forget the reluctance on his face when he swore his vows. Or the way he voice caught. She could not afford to do that – she did not want to assume to much. Yes, Legolas was generous and some part of him did belong to her. But it was not a significant part of him. He respected her, as she did him but that was all. He was not bound to obey her as she was bound to obey him. And as for love, she could not expect that – never would she expect that. If she could not give that to him, then how could she ask it in return? Emotions were not meant to be shared, and for good reasons. They could not be trusted. They were treacherous.

Rhinure applauded along with the teachers as a novice disarmed one of his seniors. That little elf would bear watching, he had talent for this sort of thing. He would have been a warrior even if an alternative had been open to him. Rhinure wondered if that was true of herself. If she had had a choice, would she have chosen to serve, to fight for her people? Would Legolas have preferred her if she was gentler, quieter – more of a normal Silvan maid? Probably. At least then she would have had something to offer him – a refuge, an oasis for him far way from his own troubles. Instead of that, all she could offer was more trouble, more distrust, more strife.

It was no wonder he did not love her – how could he? She was a warrior, that is all she knew how to be and warriors did not make good wives.

As Rhinure watched the little Avari battle she put aside her regrets and sorrows. They did not help. What she was she could not change – she was a fighter, she was Avari and she was Legolas’ wife.

Still, some persistent little part of her could not help but regret – and hope.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

When the novices took a break from their exercises, Rhinure stepped forward to speak to their instructor. The children had performed well today, and she wanted to make sure that they knew it. It was not often the little ones heard praise and especially not from her. She was usually too busy to spare any time, even for such a pleasant duty. Since she had married Legolas, Rhinure was ashamed to admit, she had even less time for them. Legolas had proved to be more distracting and time consuming than she had ever imagined. And if she was being honest with herself, she had found him fascinating. He made her forget everything she should remember, and only now, as she looked at expectant faces, was she beginning to see the price for that indulgence.

Rhinure cleared her throat, there was no point thinking of such things. She was here now, that was what mattered. If tomorrow she had to leave these children again, then best to make the best of the time they had. “You all did very well today. You will all make fine Avari warriors. May you all have a chance to serve.”

The novices’ faces, some older than others, but all so young, brightened at their Sacrifice’s praise. If Mistress said they had done well, then they must have done so. Today even their instructors nodded and did not reprimand them. One day they would make the Clan proud of them, make their Sacrifice proud – they would prove themselves worthy of being Avari. With a determination that was almost alarming in its intensity, the Elflings clutched their weapons tightly and saluted, “Honour to you, Mistress.”

Rhinure looked at them solemnly, bringing her hand up in the traditional response, “Honour to the Clan.” As she stepped back the instructors dismissed the class, and the Elflings left the field. Rhinure said her goodbyes to the older elves and walked towards her home.

As she turned the bend, removed from the sight of instructors, a tiny little novice stood, hands clutched anxiously in front of her. “Is something wrong, Amiolia?”

The small girl, with big black eyes and the sweetest little rosebud mouth looked up, way up at Rhinure, “Are you busy, Mistress?”

“No, I am not. Did you want something?”

Amiolia shifted slightly, putting her weight on one foot and then on another, “I … we were wondering, if you were not too busy, if you would, maybe spend some time with us. You could come and talk to us, maybe play with us too?”

Rhinure knew who the “we” Amiolia was referring to – the youngest six novices, the Elflings who had asked if she would come and see them. Elflings too young to know that the Sacrifice had so many more important things on her mind than just children. Elflings who, because they had asked, she could not refuse. “Of course, I have time for you, chanda. Now where are the others?”            

Rhinure extended her hand out to the little girl, hoping that she would not refuse. Amiolia looked at Rhinure, then at the hand, then back again at her Mistress. It was not proper for her to hold hands with Mistress Rhinure. She was a big girl, a warrior in training; she did not need to hold someone’s hand while she walked. Still – Amiolia glanced at the outstretched hand – this was the Sacrifice. Mistress Rhinure would not do anything wrong, would she?

Rhinure smiled gently at the child and flexed her fingers, inviting Amiolia to take her hand. “You know, no one can see us from here.”

Amiolia smiled back at Rhinure and shyly took her Mistress’ hand, “I am only taking your hand so that you do not get lost. The others are waiting near the trees and I don’t want us to be late.”

“Of course,” Rhinure nodded solemnly as she walked beside the girl.

Soon enough, Amiolia’s fingers tightened over Rhinure’s as she told the older she-elf about all that had happened since she had last been home.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Elrol peered out from behind the trees at the path. When he ducked back, the rest of his group crowded around him, faces expectant. Elrol shook his head, “No sign of her.”

Amiolia’s brother, Elvion, folded his arms and said emphatically, “Amiolia will bring her.”

“And if she is too busy to come? What then?” Elrol shot back. “If Mistress is too busy then Mistress will not come.”

“She said she would come,” Tinánia interjected.

“She said she would come and see us at practice. She did not say that she would stay.” Celedë, the oldest of the lot – a hardy 14 year old, pointed out. She was old enough to know that any time with the Sacrifice was special. “Elrol is right, Mistress is often busy. If so, she will not come.”

 “But I want her to,” Tinánia whispered.

“So do I, but there is no point in regretting what cannot be changed,” Celedë pointed out sagaciously, repeating words she had often heard.

“She will come.” The quiet voice caused the children to look down at Isar, the youngest of the lot. “She will come.” His hand tightened upon the bundle of wild flowers he clutched but his voice remained steady. “If she is busy she will still find the time to come and see us.”

“How can you be so sure?” Elrol demanded.

“Because she is Mistress. She won’t not see us.” Elrol remained unconvinced having already decided that his hopes would be dashed today. In the face of his disbelief, Isar faltered, “Won’t she?”

“Of course I will.” Rhinure’s clear voice startled all five Elflings. They whirled around to see a proud Amiolia holding Rhinure’s hand.

Isar launched himself at Rhinure, who barely caught the little Avari cannonball. “I knew you’d come. I told them so but they didn’t believe me.”

Rhinure swung the child into her arms, resting him lightly on her hip, “I thank you for your confidence, Master Isar. It is much appreciated.”

Isar buried his head into her shoulder, only to pull back with an audible gasp. Rhinure looked questioningly at the child, for a moment worried that she had hurt him somehow. “I’m sorry. I had picked these for you.” Isar held out a bundle of now completely flattened flowers. “But they’re all squished now.”

Rhinure smoothened the dark hair out of the boy’s eyes. “It does not matter, they are still beautiful.”

Isar’s chin quivered a little as he looked sadly into Rhinure’s eyes. “I’m sorry …”

Rhinure gently lifted his chin to stop him from saying anything more. “Apologies are unnecessary, dear one.”  Isar nodded, if there was no reason for him to apologise then there was no reason for him to feel guilty. Still, he had wanted to give Mistress something as pretty as she was. Next time, he promised himself.

Rhinure hugged him again as she stepped into the little circle. She looked down to see Tinánia tugging at her skirt. “I helped him pick them.”

“And I found them,” Elvion interjected.

“And I tied them with my best ribbon,” Amiolia declared.

“And what did you two do?” Rhinure asked the silent Celedë and Elrol.

Both Elflings looked at each other before answering, “We did the rest of their work so that they would have the time to pick the flowers.”

*~ Typical little Avari. ~* Rhinure should have known they would provide such an answer.

Rhinure settled onto the grass, putting Isar in her lap. “Thank you all for your thoughtfulness.”

Tinánia sat next to her, “Can I braid the flowers into your hair?”

“Maybe another time, little one. It takes long to set my hair.”

Tinánia nodded, fingering the thick braid, “That’s because it is so long.”

Rhinure smiled at the awe in the elfing’s voice. It would be a while before she would be allowed to grow her own hair out. For now she did not have the skill to keep it out of the way of her bow, and her instructors would not allow anything to interfere with her training. “Would you like me to cut it?” Rhinure asked mischievously.

“No!” Amiolia’s response was particularly vehement as she hovered protectively over Rhinure’s head.

“As you wish. Now, come and tell me what I have missed in Tirnen.” Rhinure beckoned Celedë and Elrol to come closer. The rest were already sitting next to her, crowding all around her possessively.

The older Elflings brightened up immediately once permission had been given. They came to sit right in front of Rhinure, knees touching hers slightly. If they had to look up at her, it was not matter – at least they were close to her.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“And First Advisor Cothion said that we would be moving soon. End of the week, he said. He said you wanted to move. Said that you thought it best,” Celedë finished in a rush, looking at Rhinure with a desperate appeal in her face.

An appeal that Rhinure had to deny. “That is true, the move will be good for us.”

The Elflings did not say anything – even they knew not to argue with their Mistress. But Rhinure could tell they were disappointed. They had been hoping that she would tell them that Cothion had been mistaken, that the move was just a vicious rumour. Rhinure swallowed before continuing gently, “You do not think I am right, little ones?”

The Elflings shook their heads but did not say anything. If Mistress said it was right, it was right – even if they did not like the idea. Rhinure sighed – they would not disagree with her. Obedience to the Clan’s wishes, as exemplified by the Sacrifice, was too deeply ingrained within them. They would obey as they should.

Rhinure looked down at the little boy in her lap. Isar was silently rocking back and forth, his fist buried in her lap. She stroked the dark head, causing him to look up. “I don’t want to leave, Mistress. Why do we have to leave?”

Rhinure gathered the Elfling close to her, “I know, dear one, that you do not want to leave this place. But it will be well, you will like your new home – and we will all be there with you.”

“Even you?” Isar asked, brightening up considerably. The children had missed their Sacrifice. It was like knowing that the wall that had always protected them was now weakened. It was like having a piece of them just disappear without warning. Rhinure provided them with a sense of security and normalcy that was crucial to them, and to all Avari.

“I cannot. I need to return to the Woodland Realm.”

“Why?” Elvion demanded.

“You are our Sacrifice. You should stay with us,” Amiolia stated with great conviction. It was not fair that Mistress had to leave her home and people. Not fair to her and not fair to them.

Rhinure shook her head, hoping to forestall the rest. This was hard enough as it was. “I miss you all – a lot. But my husband is a Wood-elf. I must be with him.”

“Why?”

“Why can’t he come live with us?”

The though of Legolas living in Tirnen made Rhinure smile. The havoc he would create was almost worth the trouble he would cause her. One thing she was certain, life would certainly be interesting if he came to live with the Avari – too interesting.

Amiolia tugged her sleeve, “Mistress, are you going to answer the question?”

Rhinure shook her head, even thoughts of Legolas were too distracting. “He cannot come and stay with us because he is an Eldar. He would not find it comfortable here. Since he cannot come to me, I go to him.” Rhinure carefully avoided all arguments about the Wood-elves needing Legolas and his duty to them. She did not need more reminders about how her duty was with these Avari. Some cans of worms were better left unopened.

The Elflings pondered that statement for a while. Celedë titled her head to one side and looked at Rhinure. She was still confused, why could this Eldar not come and live with them? He was an elf after all; he could not be that different from them – could he? “Mistress, we could help him. You could bring him with you next time. I am sure he would not take long to fit in.”

“And why are you sure it would not take long?”

“Because you married him. He must be smart, otherwise you would not have married him.”

Rhinure could not help but laugh at the faith her little Avari had in her and her good sense. *~ Ah, my little Avari, you do not know how little sense – good or bad – I have around Legolas. ~*

Celedë’s back straightened immediately, feeling that her Mistress was laughing at what she had said. The Avari mask slipped on with frightening speed, “Does my observation amuse you, my Mistress?”

Rhinure shook her head, choosing to keep smiling. Masks had their time and place, but sometimes even she needed to let them slip. Better with these little Elflings who would not judge her for it than a proud, beautiful, maddening Eldar. “Your observation is amusing but only because I know that even though Prince Legolas is very smart, it would not be easy for him to live with us.”

“Prince Legolas. Is that his name?” Isar asked from her lap, bending his head backwards to look at Rhinure, who nodded. “I like it. Legolas. What does it mean?”

“It means ‘Greenleaf’ and I like it too – a lot.”

“What kind of name is ‘Greenleaf’?” Elvion demanded, a shade jealously. He did not like the underlying tenderness in Mistress’ answer.

Rhinure arched an eyebrow, “I think it is a lovely name. Much better than ‘cold flame’.”

“Well, I don’t think so.” Elvion folded his arms determinedly, and stared at Rhinure.

Rhinure managed to keep herself from laughing, she had forgotten how difficult it was to keep the proper distance around this bunch. “And what do the rest of you think?”

“I think it’s pretty. Is he pretty like his name?”

Rhinure almost choked on Tinánia’s question, “Well, I would not call him pretty.”

“Then what would you call him?”

*~ Sinfully attractive. ~* “I would call him handsome.”

“Really?” The little ellyth perked up and shifted a little closer. Rhinure was amused to note that the male elves’ eyes narrowed and postures became a little defensive. No matter how young they were, and what race they were from, males seemed to be alike in more ways than one.

“Yes. He is very handsome but not in Avari fashion. For one thing, he is fair-headed.”

“Yes, blond – like the King,” Elrol said smugly, having remembered the gossip circulated around Tirnen.

“Yes, he is blond, but that word does not do him justice,” Rhinure paused, thinking about how to explain this. “Have you seen the morning sun shine through the trees?” The Elflings nodded, leaning in slightly to catch the soft words. “His hair is like that – like spun sunlight. But it is not only his hair, it is all of him. He is so bright, so alive – he shines.”

The Elflings had moved closer, fascinated by Rhinure’s words and the soft expression on her face. They understood what Mistress meant by being “bright” – it must be something like the light they saw in her right now. “How tall is he?” Amiolia asked. Mistress’ husband sounded nice to her.

“Taller than I am. I fit in right under his chin so that when he puts his arms around me, I am lost in them.” Rhinure looked around at the interested faces before her. “His eyes are blue – so blue. They glitter like water when the light hits it.”

“Does he fight too?” Isar asked.

Rhinure nodded, “Yes – he is an archer. He is very good – he can beat me easily.” That delighted the boys – finally something that they could admire in this Prince Legolas. To beat Mistress he must be very good.

“When do we get to meet him?”

That pulled Rhinure short, “Not for a while.”

“Why not?”

“As I said, he would not be comfortable around us. He would stand out amongst us, no matter where he went he would be conspicuous, he would be watched. He would have no privacy.”

 The Elflings nodded pityingly, it sounded like a terrible fate to them. To never have a moment alone – to never have peace – what horror. They could understand why Mistress did not bring him here.

“But he treats you well, doesn’t he, Mistress?” Elrol asked anxiously. If Prince Legolas could not come and visit then they would not be able to check up on him. The thought of going to visit Rhinure did not even occur to him – that adventurous he was not. He was not ready to go into strange territory, occupied by these shiny elves. He admired his Mistress’ courage but he was not about to do it himself – especially if Mistress was treated okay.

“Of course. I am his wife – I get the highest degree of respect from him.”

“And?”

“And when I am with him, I know that I have chosen well. He is the kind of elf to whom I am to hand over my Honour to. When I am with him, I think that I have finally found someone I can be proud of – and someone who will be proud of me.”

*~ And when I am with him, nothing makes sense but that does not matter. When I am with him, everything else disappears and it does not frighten me as it should. When I am with him, everything seems easy when it should not. But only when I am with him. ~*

“That is good, Mistress. I am glad he makes you happy.”

Rhinure looked at Isar, eyes wide. From an older Avari that statement would have been impertinence – a presumption about how she felt. But from her little Isar it was a prayer, a desire – and dare she hope, an observation?

Rhinure got up, signalling that it was time to get back. As Isar took her hand, she smiled down at him, “He does not make me unhappy.”

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