Legolas has always been a curious elf. He loved wandering the woodland, even as an elfling, thus how he found a dying elleth in Greenwood. It was nothing new to have him tag along if there was something he was interested in, especially if it helped him get away from his prince duties. But never once did he show any refined calling into forging weapons, particularly swords, until recently.
"My prince, maybe you should step back now. It's dangerous." The blacksmith said, more annoyed than anything.
For the past few years, Legolas became interested in swords, a weapon that he strongly disliked in the past. It was flattering at first, mostly because he was watching with eager eyes and admiration. But then Legolas returned the next day and the next and so on and the crouched, rather tanned blacksmith grew weary of his presence.
"I just want to watch, not interfere. I want to see the work put into sword making. Is it different from before?" He asked, amongst many other curiosities. "Has anything changed from master forgers in the past? Like from Lindon or Gondolin?"
"I do not know what you want me to say. Every blacksmith has its own personal creative way but the materials are the same as they have always been." Said the blacksmith, feeling tired already.
"Can you place dark magic into a sword?" Legolas asked after a moment of silence.
The blacksmith sighed before he moved the prince out of the way. He had to forge more than one little sword and he has been working overtime since his days were full with silly questions.
"Maybe. But a mere blacksmith cannot use magic easily."
"Prince Legolas, the King would like to have a word with you." A guard came in and announced.
Legolas looked up at him and nodded, not noticing the relieved expression on the blacksmith's face.
"What's with him? Still not bored of coming around?" Asked Miluinir's older brother, who looked like a rougher version of the healer. He did look like he could fit in with the guards if he were to dress in armour.
"He's asking me about swords all day long. He expects me to make him one, I believe. But I cannot understand what kind; he always asks about magic. There is no magic in our business...it's only hard work." The blacksmith said grumpily before he returned to his work.
Thranduil was in the library, looking over the maps brought by Faervel. But every so often, his mind would drift toward other subjects, some of which were giving him nightmares. His eyes rose to the door when he heard it open loudly and his son rushed in.
"Ah, Legolas, I'm glad you made time for me in your busy schedule," He started sarcastically, his eyebrows narrowing at his son.
Legolas glared at his father but didn't utter a word, curious about what the king was planning.
"I have already discussed it with Faervel and from now on you will go on patrol," Thranduil announced, waiting for a huge smile to appear on Legolas' face. However, it seemed to have the opposite effect.
"I thought you disliked that idea,"
"Something that I dislike even more is having my son interrupt the work of my men. What is that you find so interesting in our blacksmith, Legolas?" Thranduil asked leaning back in his chair.
"Mistril never quite liked our swords. When she trained with me, she always had a hard time finding a fitting sword for her...talent." The prince said, trying to find a good word for her skills. "She always said that if she were to fight for real, these swords will break or get stuck in the armour of the enemy. She also mentioned magic and- " He stopped seeing how his father got up and approached him.
"So this is about Mistril. Time passed and she did not visit once. I'm sure she is well in Imladris since she forgot all about her years in Greenwood." Thranduil commented, suddenly feeling irritated. "You should do the same and erase her from your mind."
"How can I do such a thing when it was so fun watching the two of you bicker? She seemed to enjoy taunting you." Legolas said smiling at the memory.
Mistril has been and will continue to be a true fan of war and conflict, a fixation that even Glorfindel confirmed through childhood stories. Legolas couldn't help himself but notice how much Mistril liked to mess with his father, going as far as finding everything about what Thranduil disliked and going against his commands, to see how far his fury could reach. Thranduil quite liked seeing her get annoyed on his part but it was mostly him who always lost his calm in a conversation with her. It was an interesting game that was fun for everyone in Greenwood to watch...except Thranduil, of course.
"Mistril is gone, Legolas."
"You make it sound as if she were dead," Legolas noted. "Can't I go visit her instead of joining the patrol?"
"No," Thranduil said firmly.
"Aren't you curious how she is? She used to have terrible nightmares and there were nights when she couldn't sleep at all. Her marks, her pain, she died and returned to life. It must be torture not remembering all details about her life. Aren't you curious at all?" Legolas asked stepping closer to his father.
"...no," Thranduil said, looking down at the maps. "Now go and ask Dorondir for your patrol schedule,"
As soon as Legolas left, the king sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was tired and all these questions were only causing him a headache.
"I wish she wouldn't have shown me all of it," The king mumbled, all those torturous memories still vivid in his mind.
Thranduil didn't know how Mistril could open such a connection between them, it only enforced his theory that she was, indeed, a pawn of the enemy. He could only conclude that she showed all of her pain in order to explain and excuse her choice to fight for Sauron. So then, why was she still haunting him, even while awake and informed? He just couldn't shake her off his mind. Luckily, Faervel entered the library, his stoic expression making Thranduil jealous that he couldn't hide his feelings as well as his best warrior. Faervel was the eyes and ears of the king, he was the trusted man that would never think twice about sacrifice.
"What news did Tudor bring about Dol Guldur?"
"It's silent." Said Faervel, eyes glancing at the maps.
"And what about our guards that were supposed to return with provisions from Esgaroth?"
"They arrived this morning. Orcs have been seen around but our patrols have taken care of that problem." Faervel added seeing how Thranduil was pacing around, not satisfied. "Are you worried about Legolas? He's well trained and can survive a minor attack if that would even happen."
"It's too silent up there. I am not complaining but the wind has changed lately." Thranduil admitted, trusting that Faervel will take his words very seriously. "It's been silent ever since Glorfindel's visit."
Faervel raised an eyebrow and immediately thought of the elleth they kept safe in their kingdom.
"Do you think they might keep so silent because they still believe the dark fire is here? Or is it because she left?"
"There are rumours between hunters, aren't there?" Thranduil asked, curious about what other parts of Greenwood believed.
"They say there are giant spiders coming from the fortress. But we haven't encountered any."
"Did Tudor enter the fortress or did he look from afar?" Thranduil asked knowing that Tudor disliked even the sight of the fortress.
"Nobody wants to enter but we all know there is dark magic at work. A Necromancer, men say." Faervel said, knowing well that if he were to ask Mistril, she'd have a different opinion.
"Men are known to exaggerate," Was Thranduil's calm reply.
Faervel glanced to the side before he decided to say something risky.
"Sometimes they are right to do so. Whatever has taken cover in Dol Guldur will not stay quiet for long." Said the warrior, his shoulders straight even if Thranduil narrowed his eyes at him.
As soon as Faervel walked out, he met Gweluven who was on the way to the king himself with a list of medicine he needed for the palace.
"Faervel, is the king tense? He's been drinking more wine and staying up late a lot more often." Gweluven started, stopping the warrior when they passed by each other.
"It's that damn place. It's draining all of us,"
"Indeed. The trees are growing too fast and the forest is closing in. It's best to keep inside the kingdom, you should inform the rest not to venture far."
Faervel nodded and intended to leave when Gweluven added, "Mistril saw something, didn't she? You've been on alert ever since she left."
"Let me worry about that."
Arwen accompanied Mistril around the woods of Lothlorien. The golden trees seemed to ease her mind and she smiled a few times at the beauty of it.
Closing her eyes, Mistril remembered the times spent with her brothers, the way they'd tease her about her hobbies.
"You're not bad, Mistril. But you still cannot beat me," Her older brother taunted her chuckling while maneuvering his sword.
"I will. And when that happens, I'll make it so you will never forget it." She said, her age still very young. Her eyes sparkled with wit and bravery, two characteristics that followed her throughout her life.
"Such big promises from such a small elfling. You'll have to grow taller first, Mistril."
The truth was that her brothers were taller than most, taking after their father. Valdaglerion was as tall as Glorfindel and although the two came from very different backgrounds, they were noble in their own ways. Mistril was still short next to them but she was visibly taller than most elleths her age.
"I will become a warrior and I will fight in wars, alongside you and lord Glorfindel." She couldn't help but blush at the mention of the ellon.
"You have big dreams, indeed, little sister. I cannot wait to see how many of them you can accomplish."
Mistril opened her eyes and chuckled to herself. Memories of her peaceful childhood were a lot fewer than the dark times she had lived as an adult but they were precious. They were enough to keep her sane.
"Did you remember something?" Arwen asked seeing how she laughed.
"I had two brothers who always got me riled up. I wish they were still alive, here with you." Mistril replied with a soft smile.
"I have two of my own. I can spare them if you'd like." Arwen joked of course but it made both of them laugh.
"We were four children and the youngest was Lirneth. She was an elegant being, with rosy cheeks and soft eyes just like our mother's. She despised war and violence in general. She was a musician, a dancer, maybe she would have become a healer since she had a way with words that could aid anyone." She smiled as she envisioned her sister's face in front of her. Lirneth was smiling, her red hair swaying in the wind as she stood there in her innocence. Mistril reached out and the image vanished but instead appeared the face of Arwen.
"You have been given a second chance. You should embrace it." Arwen commented.
"A second chance...everyone seems to believe so but I'm not so sure. Returning to life hurt a lot more than dying."
"Did they tell you what your punishment is?" Arwen asked curiously.
"No. At first, I believed my punishment was just my return without memories but that proved to feel more like a blessing. Remembering is torture but still, I do not think my punishment has begun. I'll try to fight against evil if it resurfaces but I am afraid, Arwen. What if I lose control?" Mistril said, her eyes wide and alert.
"You don't have to worry. Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel will teach you not to be afraid of the enemy or of yourself."
It was already dawn when Arwen went back for she still had her own work to do. Mistril was sleepy so she jumped into a tree and rested there with her eyes closed. Nature was so calm in Lorien that it soothed her soul. It seemed like the world was so feeble compared to this land.
A pang hurt her mind, a sudden knock against the door of her soul. The magic used to fortify the walls of her mind was ancient and strong thus not even Galadriel could enter it. But Mistril felt the presence of one more powerful than her and she opened her eyes.
"Lady Galadriel...you have been watching me ever since I arrived. I can only hope I did not disappoint you." Mistril started, jumping down in front of the lady. She bowed her head in respect and noticed Galadriel watching with wary eyes.
"I am told you remembered your past and you have acknowledged the dangers of the future." The serene elleth began, her blue eyes searching answers in Mistril's soul. "Your light flickers, doesn't it?"
"I spent the majority of my adulthood being tortured. Darkness filled my mind and soul and I could escape only by dying again."
"Have you truly escaped? Your wrists say otherwise." Galadriel said her eyes going down to the marks. She frowned as she noticed how clear they were, a sign that brought worried regarding the return of the enemy. "How am I to trust you?"
"You cannot. I'm not promising anything for I know I am a danger to everyone around me. But the enemy is gone and as long as he remains so, I believe I can think for my own."
Galadriel's blue eyes, so clear and wise, moved from Mistril's hands up to her face and she watched her. She watched the twitches of her lip, the frown of her brows, the short orange hair that was given to her from the Valar, especially to have her marked as a washed-off elleth. They had plans for her and they were not being merciful.
"Come with me. I have to show you something." Galadriel said eventually.
Walking back into the elven city, it did not feel as foreign as the time she stepped into Greenwood. It was different now, she knew where she was and what her place was. Mistril wondered if she could still speak back to Thranduil after she learned how many of his kin she killed. She did not lie when she told him she met two incredibly noble kings...one was her own, King Turgon whom Glorfindel bowed to as well. And the other was the one she had seen in the war. Oropher was just as bright and royal as Gil-galad on the battlefield but he died as a sacrifice. She was so close when the orcs killed him and she felt satisfied, an emotion that now brings her shame.
Galadriel led Mistril into a small garden. It was calm and magical, a place where she was sure her sister would have loved to play her harp and sing. In the center was silently standing a basin as none Mistril had seen. Galadriel walked around to the other side and invited Mistril to come closer.
Approaching the basin, the Gondolindrim could feel fear slowly crawl up her spine, and just as if a bolt of electricity struck the spot in front of her, she stopped and froze. There was so much anger cascading over her being, so many memories that she did not want to remember here and now. Mistril needed to invoke her bravery in front of death just to continue what looked like a simple task. Once she stepped in front of it and looked down at the water, her jaw tensed.
Memories appeared: her will subdued by darkness in the caves, her body trampled upon day after day by orcs and the saviour under the form of Sauron. It was painful but she had to endure it. And then the image shifted and she found herself looking into the grey eyes of a stubborn elf who didn't trust anyone and anything but his people and his own mind. Her eyes widened at what came next and out of surprise she raised her head and faced Galadriel.
"I cannot see into your mind, it is enforced with walls I cannot pass. But I saw what you saw in the water and I know there is hope, even for you." As she spoke, Galadriel's eyes brightened as if at last she welcomed Mistril into her land.
"What is this?" Mistril asked not at all touched by Galadriel's softened expression. "What did you make me see?"
"I showed you what needed to be shown. You must forget the past, forgive yourself, and live towards what has been laid before you." She explained, knowing it was a punishment that was going to hurt Mistril in ways that she never thought of.
Mistril sighed heavily as she finally understood. How could the Valar plan such a nasty ploy for someone like her? Someone who had never felt the shivers of love.
