Chapter 12 – Honour

Rhinure contemplated the dress she was about to wear – black, no nonsense, and supremely practical – much like her. For the smallest of seconds Rhinure wished it were a different colour – green, blue, red, even pink, anything except black.

As soon as she had completed the thought, she determinedly put it aside. It was a waste of time and energy to wish for something that could not be. And the Avari had learned the hard way not waste anything.

“You are going to be late, Mistress.” Ehtewen brought her back to the task at hand – the feast.

“It will not take long to dress, I have plenty of time.” Rhinure answered – not really wanting to put the dress on. Unfortunately, it was the only formal piece of clothing she had with her. She looked at it, lying on the white sheets of the bed, the black on the white like some gruesome painting. Rhinure shook her head slightly – now she was being foolish.

Before her thoughts could run away with her, she quickly slipped on the dress. The cold silk felt alien against her skin. It clung to her and whispered around her ankles when she moved – all in all she did not like it. It was too different from what she usually wore. Maybe she should have pleaded tiredness – but no, that would have been dishonourable. It was expected that she attend, so she would.

As Ehtewen buttoned up the dress from the back, Rhinure quickly bundled her hair to keep it out of her face. She took a quick look in the mirror to check she had not missed any strands. Her simple appearance stared back at her; Rhinure nodded – she was presentable enough. Ehtewen apparently agreed, “You will do.”

“You do no think this is too plain?” Rhinure had the feeling that she was expected to make more of an impression tonight. It was unfortunate that she did not know exactly what kind of impression was expected from her. She knew so little about these Elves and their way of life.

“I do not think so. You do not want to be ostentatious; after all, you are a guest. It would not do to draw attention to yourself. You can intimidate them some other time.”

Rhinure nodded, Ehtewen’s word was good enough for her. She then turned to the final piece of her ensemble – her karha. She picked up the object reverentially and snapped it onto her slender wrist. As she slipped on the three silver rings, she silently repeated the vows she had made – her vows to her people, to herself.

Each ring represented an oath she had sworn, the chains reminding her of the binds holding her. The karha was a symbol and reminder of what she was – an Avari. They were testament to what was important in life – honour and duty. All Avari wore similar ornaments; none were exempted from these bonds of honour.

The number of rings varied from the common one to the uncommon three. All Avari wore one ring, signifying the bond of duty, when they came of age. It was the first oath they took, and in some ways, it was the strongest. It was a common thread in all Avari life, no matter what your age, sex or station – the subservience to duty.

One ring for duty, another for obedience and then one more for life. Three rings, connected by such slender chains – they summed up Rhinure’s entire life. Her commitment to serve and obey her people for as long as there was life in her body. Three rings – together they totalled up her entire honour. Not many Avari swore the three vows, it was a very strong oath and not many felt the need to confine their life with such a burden. Some like Ehtewen swore the three oaths, but only to a single person. Rhinure held Ehtewen’s oaths; therefore, only Rhinure could make Ehtewen obey.

But Rhinure had sworn her oaths to the entire Avari people – she was bound to them all, all had claim over her. Of all the Avari, Rhinure had the least freedom, to do what she wished, to act as she wished, to live as she wished – her entire life was a sacrifice for her people.  And for that, they honoured her and elevated her to the status of Sacrifice – for that is what she was, a living Sacrifice.

All Avari deferred to her, because they knew that whatever she did was for their betterment, and none dared interfere with that. It was a complex relationship at best, and often seemingly contradictory. Since she was sworn to all, she was answerable to no one elf. She could command any Avari; since she was bound to obey them all.

It was a confusing relationship – unless you were Avari, then it became as natural as breathing. The Sacrifice was the constant in Avari life, their champion, someone who looked after them, like a mother looked after her child. And like the mother – the Avari children revered their Sacrifice.

It was a daunting position and a solemn vow – and as Rhinure looked at her hand she could feel the immense weight of those three rings digging into her fingers.

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Morion and Istion rose when Rhinure entered the room. They looked approvingly at their Sacrifice; if they noticed the weariness on her face or the slight nervousness that lurked in her eyes they did not comment. It was a matter of pride that they controlled their emotions at all costs. It was vulgar to bring one’s attentions to a display of emotions. Sentiment was private and so it should remain – always.

“Is he here yet?” Rhinure asked her Guards.

Istion shook his head.

“He is late.” Rhinure commented needlessly – wondering what was keeping Legolas. He did not strike her as the kind of person to be late. Rhinure thought of her husband-to-be, what did he think of her. What did she think of him?

He puzzled her – he was such a mix of emotions and control. All could see his displeasure at the impending marriage but he still went through with it. It spoke well of his commitment to duty. But he was so . . . childish in his display of emotions. He smiled, frowned and even laughed. At the same time, he was always in control of himself. It was as if these emotions were only the surface of what he felt.

It was a novel thought for Rhinure – that one could be emotional and still have more to give. It was also tiring, being buffeted with all these sensations. Rhinure wondered if Legolas realised how transparent he could be. The way he held himself, the way his eyes flashed, all clearly told her what he was feeling. Probably not, otherwise he would make more of an effort to hide his suspicions of her. Being around him reminded Rhinure of being caught in the middle of a thunderstorm. At one level, she wanted to be as far away from him as possible, on the other she had a morbid fascination to see what would happen next.

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Rhinure snapped to attention when she heard Ehtewen greet Legolas – or announce his presence. She doubted the prince would have seen her comment as a greeting.

When he strode into the room Rhinure had to admit that he was pleasing to look at – his hair literally shone against his pale green tunic. Her future husband was good-looking, though she wondered at his tendency to leave his hair unbound – it seemed uncomfortable and impractical to her. Still, he had much to proud of and the Silvan Elves were known to be vain.

Legolas kept staring at her and Rhinure could clearly see the displeasure written all over his face. Though she could only wonder at what she had done wrong, it irked her that he could not control his responses. “Is anything the matter, my Lord?” Rhinure asked, casually.

“No . . . of course not, I was just taking in your appearance.” Legolas managed to get out.

“Does it meet with you approval?” Rhinure was intrigued as to how Legolas would answer that. His shock was painfully obvious to her and her Guard; reading body language, the set of the shoulders, the title of the head; it was all second nature to the Avari.

In the back of her mind, Rhinure wondered how Arandur survived for so long around these Eldar? The Avari were so circumspect in everything they did that being around the Wood-elves was like being blinded by a blind light. Beautiful and highly painful.

“My Lady, you will be the most striking Lady at the feast.”  Legolas finally answered.

Flattery? Rhinure cocked an eyebrow at the double-edged comment. It was not a lie but neither was it a complement. The prince would take some watching, he kept his wits about him.

As she took his arm, her Guard took their accustomed position behind her.

“I am sorry, but you cannot come. The King does not allow armed Guards in the Hall.”

Rhinure narrowed her eyes; so, the Princeling presumed to give her orders already. “They will not be seen.” She calmly answered, Legolas would see reason – she was sure of it. For her not to go without a guard was unthinkable; it would be an affront to her position.

“Nevertheless, I cannot permit to come with them.” That was an order and all the Avari recognised it as such – even if it was coated in dulcet tones.

Rhinure watched as her Guard straightened – Legolas did not realise it but he had just changed the situation into a dangerous one. No one ventured to order the Avari unless they held their oaths. Legolas had just managed to insult all of her Guards and prevent them from doing their duty – protecting her. She had seen Avari remove heads for less.

“You will have a First Guard?” She interjected before the situation could deteriorate any further.

“First Guard?” Legolas asked, confused. Rhinure bit down on any impatience – this elf was not Avari and he did not understand. Rhinure just had to keep reminded herself of that.

“A … bodyguard?” When Legolas nodded, Rhinure continued, “Then my First Guard will come as well.”

Morion and Istion glanced at her and she imperceptibly ordered them to stay behind. It would not do to antagonise Thranduil – and Ehtewen would be more than enough. They were not happy about the situation but they would obey.

Rhinure looked into Legolas’ blue eyes and she could see that he wanted to argue. It puzzled her – why did he not understand? As a prince, he was expected to have a bodyguard, then why could he not see that as a Sacrifice she must take a First Guard as well?

“As you wish, my Lady.”

Why was there such resignation in his tone? Why did she feel that he was just humouring her?

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As soon as Rhinure entered the ballroom, she realised her mistake. The Elves before her were obviously dressed in their best finery and expected her to do the same. They took in her black dress and turned away in disgust. Ehtewen had been wrong – she should have intimidated them. Rhinure squared her shoulder – she did not need a dress to intimidate. If they did not graciously allow her to be different, then she would force them to see how distinct she was. She would not allow them to censure her – she would remain immune.

Throughout the evening Legolas tried to make pointless conversation with her, which she answered as briefly as she could. He did not see the pitying glances that the ellyth sent his way when they saw her. He did not see the hostility that the elves levelled at their new Princess. He seemed oblivious to the control it took Rhinure to remain silently, uncaringly in her seat.

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After the feast, Thranduil insisted that Rhinure ‘meet the nobles’ in a more intimate setting. At least, he could see ignominy of Rhinure’s position even if his son could not. But as his insistence reminded her – she had to learn to deal with these people some time or another. It was better it start as soon as possible.

Most of the questions were inoffensive enough – Rhinure effectively silenced all tongues when she met the people face to face. Looking into her cold eyes, the nobles learnt that whatever their new Princess was, she was not to be trifled with. And in a strange manner, it was comforting – Rhinure did not pretend to be what she was not, she was Avari and the rest has to learn to adjust.

All in all, the evening was not turning out to be too unsatisfactory – at least, Rhinure was showing her new people what they could expect from her. Well, that was until they passed by Lady Minuial. Rhinure had to admit - the maid was a pretty little, inconsequential thing. She looked charming in her pink dress, and Rhinure could tell that Legolas enjoyed looking at her. It was good to know that her betrothed was interested in females, even if not in her. If she displeased him in bed, then she could always find him a more satisfactory substitute. Maybe even this Lady Minuial.

“You are very lucky … to have caught Legolas. Many a female have tried and failed miserably.”

Then again . . . maybe not. Rhinure did not have to concentrate very hard to pick up the condescension behind that tone. “Obviously, they should have tried harder.”

That should have squashed Lady Minuial and ended the conversation. Unfortunately, Fate seemed to have her own plans. Rhinure watched with a sick fascination as Lady Minuial almost choked herself with righteous indignation. She did not heed the warning Rhinure sent her way – how dim could this elleth be?

Finally, Rhinure had enough – there was only so much humiliation she would stomach – this ‘Lady’ needed to be reminded of whom exactly she was addressing. “I would be careful before making statements like that in front of a person with a blade. Ehtewen is very capable it … no matter how unnatural it may be.”

This time, Lady Minuial caught the threat and thankfully shut her mouth.

Rhinure would have left the offending woman’s presence if Legolas had not caught her arm. As she looked into his face, she could read his disapproval. It almost stunned Rhinure, could he not see that she had to avenge Ehtewen’s honour? Obviously, he did not, and neither would she bother explaining it to him.

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When Legolas had escorted Rhinure back to her rooms, only then could she turn to look at her First Guard. As expected, Ehtewen was furious and very close to losing control. Her knuckles had turned white from the tight grip she kept on her blade.

Morion and Istion and discretely absented themselves – control or not, even the Avari knew not to cross the First Guard when she was in such a mood.

Rhinure watched as Ehtewen paced around the room. “That pernicious little elleth, all she wanted to do was embarrass you. How dare she lecture you in front of the entire court? How dare she insinuate . . . I am going to demand  . . .”

“You will do nothing,” Rhinure sharply cut into Ehtewen’s tirade. “One insignificant female’s ranting in not enough to embarrass me. Any one with an ounce of sense will disregard what she said.”

“Like the Prince did? He seemed most anxious to defend her from your response! Maybe he is the one who should have been insulted.” Ehtewen bit out.

“Ehtewen, remember who you speak of. He will be my Lord soon. I will not hear such disrespect about him.” Rhinure’s eyes blazed and Ehtewen fell to her knees.

“Forgive me, Mistress. I beg your pardon. I did not mean what I said. I . . . lost control.” Ehtewen bowed her head, shamed filling her.

“See that it does not happen again. Prince Legolas is going to be my Bonded . . . my husband. Always remember that.” Rhinure turned away from her First Guard; she knew that Ehtewen had been angry. Angry at the implied insult to her – to the Sacrifice. It did not matter that Lady Minuial had accused her of being unnatural or an insult to womankind. Such words were insignificant.

Sometimes, it became difficult to hold in the tempest that was inside.

Rhinure knew how demanding it could be to maintain control; she had the strongest urge to slap Legolas when he had held her back accusingly. Nevertheless, she had kept still – as she was expected to. 

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