Anariel of Erudin: The Age of Revolution | Lord of the Rings

13. A Bitter Farewell

This isn't right, I thought as I slowly rocked back and forth, my arms wrapped tightly around my legs, my ten tiny toes drumming against the tree branch. Just like when I was a child, I'd sought shelter in a tree and hid myself high in its branches, hoping that my troubles wouldn't find me, that Legolas wouldn't find me.

What was he thinking, asking me to marry him like that? Had he completely lost his mind? Just days ago, I thought I was never going to see him again, and I was starting to come to terms with that, but how was I supposed to react to all this? What did he expect me to say? I was not ready for marriage.

Already, I could feel the betrothal ring coiling around my finger, tighter and tighter, trapping me just like it did with Beinion.

"I won't," I murmured. "I can't. I can't do it!"

"You can't do what?" someone asked. At first, I thought the tree was talking to me, finally breaking its long-held silence, but when I glanced over my shoulder, I saw a friendly face hovering just inches away from mine. It was attached to a long neck that seemed to sprout from the trunk like a branch.

My eyes bulged. "The tree is growing heads!" I screamed, lurching away from the strange creature. "I've finally gone mad! I've finally gone mad!"

With all my squirming, I started to lose my balance, and a hand shot out from the trunk and tried to grab me.

"No!" I shrieked, slapping the hand away, and then I fell from the branch and crashed to ground below, where feathery green leaves sprinkled over me like giant snowflakes. One fell into my open mouth, and I spit it out immediately.

The elf, still perched upon his tree branch, started to laugh. "Do men really think elves grow from trees? Because that is absolutely ridiculous."

"No," I answered, getting back to my feet, "just me, apparently."

"I see. Perhaps Sanya was right, then. Maybe you are delusional."

"Yes, maybe I am." Again, I looked up at the elf, and he seemed familiar somehow, as if I had met him before. Like most elves, he was tall and fair, with long brown hair, beautiful and untamed, writhing wildly in the breeze. At his side, clutched gently in his hand, was a small wooden harp. I had indeed seen this elf before and heard his music.

He caught me staring at his wooden instrument. "Shall I play you something?" he offered, and without an answer, he began to pluck away at the strings, playing a song that was light and cheerful like the first day of spring after a long winter. His music alone could have brought the passing of the seasons, I thought, for every note triggered a change in the wood, making the flowers bloom a little brighter and the wind blow a little gentler, filling my heart with joy. I didn't even realize he'd stopped until he was right in front of me, asking, "Would you like to try?"

I blushed. "I don't know any songs."

"Neither do I," he replied with a smile. "Just play whatever is in your heart," and then he placed the harp in my hands. "Really, you cannot play it wrong."

"Oh, I think I can," I said, but I did as he suggested and played the song that was in my heart.

And what an awful song it was! When I moved my fingers across the strings, it was like the poor instrument was being tortured and pleading for a swift death, which I soon granted and ceased my horrible playing.

"I have no talent for music, I'm afraid."

"I humbly beg to differ," replied the elf, and then he pointed toward the branches of a nearby tree, where a tiny green leaf was beginning to bud.

My jaw dropped. "I did that?"

"You did that."

"I did that ...?" A huge grin spread across my face, and I started jumping up and down with glee. "I did that! Haha! I did that! Oh, this place is incredible!"