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

8. A King's Feast

"Ana!" I heard Turin shout. "Ana, are you all right?"

"I had a misstep," I said as I struggled to keep my dress up, "but I'm fine. Who would set such a trap in this forest?"

"Perhaps it's an old trap. Don't worry, I'll get you down."

"Oh, I'm not worried. Actually, I find the whole situation rather funny." Again, my skirt fell over my face, fully exposing my lower undergarments, but this time I didn't bother to push it up again. Turin had seen me in far worse situations anyway. "Have you solved it yet, Turin? You can cut me down if you'd like. I'm sure the fall won't kill me ... Turin? ... Turin? ... Turin, why aren't you answering me?"

His voice came in a hushed tone. "Because we have company."

"What?" I pushed my skirt up and stared curiously about.

Standing beneath me were six elven men dressed in deep, earthy shades of green and brown.

"Wood-elves!" My face flushed and I suddenly became very aware of my indecency. "Oh, no, this won't do at all!" I exclaimed, fighting futilely against my drooping skirt. "Please, don't look at me! Don't look!"

"Well, don't look at her!" Turin growled. "And here I thought elves were decent folk ..."

Quickly, my arms grew tired and I had no choice but to give up the battle; then I could only laugh to distract myself from the utter embarrassment I felt. I've shamed myself again. Oh, if Mother could see me now ... 

I was still laughing as they lowered me back to the ground and cut me free. I didn't know who'd been wielding the dagger that freed me, but they had a gentle manner. When I was finally able to stand, the first thing I did was readjust my dress, and then I smiled, hoping it would make them forget my little mishap.

"Hello, I'm Anariel," I said, "and this is Turin." As I spoke, Turin was biting off the tips of his nails and spitting them onto the ground. I rolled my eyes. "We are on our way to the Woodland Realm." Honestly, I wasn't sure if the wood-elves could understand what I was saying because their expressions never changed. "We are friends of Legolas, son of Thranduil ... Can you understand me?"

One of them elves stepped forward. He had a very serious face and the perfect posture of a soldier. "You are Anariel?"

I could see the confusion in his eyes, but it didn't upset me. I just smiled a little brighter. "Yes, I am."

"Come with us, please."

For years I'd yearned to return to the Woodland Realm, which contained what I considered to be the last untouched forest in Middle-earth. It was blessed because many still feared it to be cursed. Growing up, I'd heard so many stories: that the air was poisonous enough to kill a man in seconds, that the corpses of fallen soldiers roamed the wood in search of human flesh to devour. My nursemaid, Nanny Nim, once spoke of a boy who ran into the forest one day and never came out. She said he got stuck in a briar patch and lost his soul among the thorns. And to this day he runs within the wood, unaware of his own death. That story used to frighten me so much when I was young, but now I found it amusing. This wood was no place to be feared. It was a place to be respected, admired, and protected. Here, nature was everywhere, beautiful and undisturbed. It was paradise, the only paradise men would ever know.

As we crossed the Enchanted River, I felt like I'd been taken back to another time, a time when Middle-earth was at peace. The wind was singing the sweet song of the forest, stirring all the plants and animals from their slumber. Upon the grassy riverbank sat a young elf maiden, and as we passed, she glanced up from her book and smiled at us. Further in, I saw elves young and old talking to the flowers like they were long-lost friends; and I saw a young man with a small wooden harp sitting beneath a bare birch tree. With every pluck of the harp string, a new leaf began to bud, and by the end of his song, the tree was in full bloom. When he caught me staring at him, he just smiled and waved.