Building Ithilien [Legolas] LOTR

Sisters and Brothers

Cold night had long since swallowed the land, deepening the shadows of battle and ruin.  The elves had decisively destroyed their enemy and now picked up the remains; their first battle brought victory.  Many of the company sang softly as they sorted through the ravaged field, searching out arrows that could be reused, piling carcasses.   Steam curled from the ashen bodies, an image of spirits fleeing the dead.  Grey, and shade of grey, tinted everything: dull, dark, lifeless.

Eledhel frantically chased the perimeter of the battle scene and smoking forest, looking for any sign or trace of his sister.  He had seen her enter the woods but not return, and now he feared the worst.  At last he rounded the woods' eave and saw her there, crouched among corpses.

            "Miredhel--" he called excitedly.  She did not answer right away, only turned to push away a heap of tangled curls from her wet, smudged face and liquid eyes.  Another tear spilled over her lashes.   His sister was crying.  Eledhel quickened his pace to a full-on sprint and shouted as he ran: "Miredhel, are you hurt? Are you?  Answer me!"

            She woefully shook her head, and when he grew nearer, he discerned that she held another, whose body hung limply in her arms.  Eledhel collapsed at his sister's side.

            "Miredhel—look at me.  Are you hurt?"

            She shook her head and then forced the words to come, "Eledhel, look at her—"

            "I don't care about looking at her!" he snapped.  "I want to look at you!  Are you hurt in any way?"  His eyes darted over Miredhel, widening at a smear of blood across her waist, and her brother pointed to the dark red stain and immediately began to lift her tunic's hem to check for a wound.

            Miredhel pushed his hand away.  "Stop it! I'm not injured, Eledhel," she vehemently protested, and she was not, at least not with any physical wound.  "But she is.  We have to hurry.  Can you carry her?"

            Eledhel turned his attention to the elf maiden in his sister's embrace.  Pain marred her delicate features, and he wondered what color her eyes were.  "She's beautiful," he breathed.  "Who is she, so fair and lost?"

            Miredhel bit her lower lip, willing the tears not to fall anew.  "She followed us from Mirkwood..." She glanced at her brother, and her chin quivered.

            "What? You can tell me, sis." Eledhel asked, placing his palm against his sister's cheek as he comfortingly smoothed away the grime from her cheekbone.

            "I'm pretty sure she's Lierwen," Miredhel said and with a deep breath, added, "Legolas' intended."

            "His intended?" asked Eledhel incredulously, as he carefully scooped up the girl into his arms.  Miredhel stiffly rose from the ground, and they both began to walk to the area where all the elves had congregated.