his exception

chapter one: rivendell

 Piercing blue eyes. A flurry of icy white hair. Perfect pink lips against pale perfect skin. Maethel rushed from the tree she hid behind to another. A wicked smile on her face as she hugged her bow close to her chest. One last arrow placed neatly inbetween her fingers. Bending her knees slowly, she placed the arrow against the string of her bow and extended it, pointing it directly into the air. She counted to three once she heard the crack of the branch and suddenly; with fierce strong might she turned around and pointed the arrow forwards.  Her friend jumped back a step, his sword held in his hand but bent downwards. Maethel laughed.  "Estel," she called in a sing song tune, ruffling his hair up. "You have to be prepared. If your sword was up and I fired, you had a chance of deflecting my arrow. Don't give up. Think five steps ahead of you." He sighed in defence, putting his sword back in his sheath and ran a hand through his hair. Tired. "I want to go back to my room, to pack." He murmured. Maethel rolled her eyes, pinching his cheek which made him smile all the less. "Fine. Let's go" she beckoned taking her arrow and her bow. 

"Don't be down on yourself Estel" Maethel murmured calmly looking to his young face. "You did good work. I'm proud of you." he grinned up at her.  "Thank you" he smiled bowing his head and excusing himself from Maethel's presence. She waved him on, leaning against the wall behind her, hugging her bow to her cheek. "Lady Maethel!" The young elleth turned around to come face to face with her best friend Arwen. "Lady Arwen.. to what do I owe this great pleasure..?" Maethel fake bowed and her best friend chuckled.

 "How was your lessons?" Arwen asked. Maethel looked in the direction of where Estel had disappeared too. She shrugged her shoulders, joining her friend in step. "Good. He is finding fighting a little difficult but his Elfish has gotten beautiful" Maethel spoke proudly.  "All your doing. You're a great teacher and presence on him you know" Arwen spoke to her comfortingly. Fondness covered her voice. Her friend smiled in thanks. "Ohh, along with your teaching.. you better tell me is something going on between you two? You seem awfully giggly and cheery whenever he's around." Arwen swatted her friends arm. They then made their way through the gate of Rivendell and up the stairs.

...

"My son is gone where destiny calls him, then," Gilraen said, not raising her eyes from her sewing. "He is grieved you were not there to see him off this this afternoon," Elrond said, sitting down beside her on the low bench. "It's not a matter I can speak of to you," she said. "It is a matter of a woman's heart, and though you are gracious and wise, Master Elrond, I fear that you would not understand this, any more than you understand why my son loves your daughter."

Elrond laughed. "Why, that I do understand." He stood up, laying a hand briefly on Gilraen's shoulder. "No one could fail to love my Arwen." He gestured to the door. "See, there she comes. Since it is a matter of a woman's heart that troubles you, my daughter is wise and willing to listen. She will gladly offer you counsel in my stead." Elrond pointed to his daughter who was walking closely to Maethel who looked around her age perhaps slightly younger. Gilraen shook her head. "I would not trouble her with my heart's desires," she said. "It's no trouble," Arwen said, sitting down just where Elrond had been sitting and taking her own sewing out of its basket. The other elleth sat next to her. Elrond gave the three of them a smile and walked off in the direction of the gardens. "Do not feel you must tell me all, but I will gladly lend an ear." There was silence for a little while.

"Tell me," Gilraen said, "do you love my son?"

Arwen tilted her head, mouth dropping open as she looked over at her friend. "I - he - we," she stammered out, and a blush tinted her cheeks. Then she shook her head, laughing at herself. "You took me by surprise! But in truth, I do not know. My heart could turn toward him, and yet it may not." 

"You know that he loves you, of course," Gilraen said. "I think everyone in the entire Valley knows that," Arwen said. "He was not exactly subtle." Maethel smiled at Arwen before muttering a quiet, "Excuse me... I'll give you two some privacy." Gilraen smiled then turned back to face Arwen. "He thought he was." She shook her head. "My sweet boy, a Man raised among Elves. It's a wonder he has any secrets at all - or that I do. Can you read me with a look, lady?"

Arwen let her sewing fall to her lap and looked over at Gilraen. "I see hope in you," Arwen said.

"Well," Gilraen said. "I give hope to you. Whatever hope I have, take it, use it to bolster your own. For it is you who will be the light in the darkness that will come to us one day." She lay the sewing down once more, on the small table in front of them, and moved closer to Arwen, who, sensing some importance in the coming words, set her own sewing aside. "My time is done. I keep no hope for myself." Her voice grew small and sad. "I won't be around for much longer and I want to know that my son will be someone who will grow to care for him..." She was going to say something else when Arwen interrupted her by placing her fingers over the older woman's. "I promise he will be looked after here in Rivendell though I cannot promise my love.. like that."

Gilraen looked up into the elleth's eyes and nodded.

...

Maethel made her way back down the steps with no place in mind. Rivendell was like a second home to her so she knew most people. "Maethel!" A loud voice echoed across the wind. Immediately, the young elleth turned around to see Lord Elrond. "L-Lord Elrond." She stammered out as she noticed he was dressed for battle.

 "I want you to accompany me and a group of others. Out on our borders I've had word of a pack of orcs." There was a glint of something in his eyes.  "I'll grab my arrows" she quickly grinned. Elrond nodded his head, watching her turn around and run for the armoury where most of the weapons were held. Maethel skidded in front of a crate of arrows, neatly engraved with slender long letters of her name. She opened the crate, filling up her quiver with long elegant arrows neatly and evenly trimmed at the end of beautiful white feathers.