༶•┈┈⛧┈♛Foxgloves and Greenleaves ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

Chapter 3: Legolas

I understand Miranna's pain. But I do not understand why she took my hand and held it. Not that her hands weren't soft. They are, yet the action threw me off balance.

"I see you're an excellent swordswoman." I compliment, attempting to change the conflicting subject. "May I see your blades?"

She brandishes her sword. "Careful, it belonged to my father."

I study the Elven emerald and silver blade. It was an old model of Mirkwood swords, yet it looked as if it freshly came from the swordsmith.

"Your father would be very proud if he saw you."

"Thank you." She smiles sadly. "Would you also like to see my mother's blades?"

"Was your father a Mirkwood elf?"

She paused after brandishing two long blades. "Yes. Yes he was. By any chance, did he know your father? He was a soldier in your father's army."

"I'm not so sure."

"Careful, these were my mother's blades." She hands me the two long knives, about a foot in length. The handles, made of lapis lazuli, were etched with ancient language. The blade itself was carved from a type of Elven silver I didn't recognize.

"They're beautiful. Although I must ask, what kind of silver was forged from?"

"That's Telerin silver. My mother was an ancient Telerin sorceress. She mostly relied on her spells, but she fought if she needed to."

"Would you like to try my bow?" I offer out of politeness and curiosity. Are her archery skills as proficient as her swordsmanship?

She takes it from me with unsure but curious hands, nocks an arrow, and aims for a leaf that was about to fall on the ground. She releases it, pinning the leaf to the tree. I stare at her in disbelief.

"Why did you not tell me of your skills in archery?"

She shrugs nonchalantly. "Eh. It was just a lucky shot."

"An amateur wouldn't have been able to make such a shot."

"I suppose that I am just a lucky amateur." She smiles tightly. "Come, elf prince. The sun is about to set."

We manage to make it to the town of Cerules, a quaint village filled with bustling humans. I spot a poster nailed to a tree just outside the town. Although it was written in Black Speech, a picture of our faces was hastily scrawled onto the parchment.

"Miranna, look!" I point to the poster. "What are we to do now?"

Her lips tighten. "I feared this. If we go to the next town, that will be four day's worth of travel. We have no choice but to go undercover."

"How? I have no knowledge of sorcery!"

"You don't, but I do. My mother was a sorceress, remember? She didn't die without teaching me a few spells. Give me your hand."

"Do you want to hold my hand for the pleasure of holding it?" I smirk.

"Do you want to die as soon as you step foot into the village?" She snaps, hiding the slightest flicker of a smile. "Do as I say, and we should last during our time in Cerules. Now, hold my hand."

I took her hand once more, which was somewhat soft after all her victories in battle. She softly chants words in what I assumed was Telerin.

"There, I've already casted the illusion spell. If you stray too far away from me, it will wear off, so you'll have to stay close to me the whole time."

"Illusion spell?" I echo, turning to face Miranna. Instead, I find a she-elf with hair the color of the pale sun in winter. Her cream colored skin and glacier blue eyes closely resembled... me.