Chapter 8

Somehow, Elireth knew that it would happen this way, that by the time she was correctly attired and presentable, however much she hurried, that the Grove would be empty, save for a solitary figure, whose black hair and lilac gown rippled gently in the morning breeze. Elireth did not know how she was ever to face the gentle, yet inscrutable, gaze of Queen Arwen. She bowed her head and made a deep curtesy, almost to the ground.

“My Lady,” she said humbly.

“My poor child,” replied Arwen, cradling Elireth’s cheek in her gentle hand and raising her slowly to her feet.

As the eyes of the mistress met those of the maid, it seemed to Elireth that the Queen was surprised by what she saw. Those dark, starlit eyes, in which sat the wisdom of Elrond, looked intently into those of her handmaiden with a deep, questioning look.

“Come,” said Arwen. “Let us sit. You must tell me all that has happened.”

Elireth felt nervous. “Where is – everyone?” she said, glancing around.

“The King and Legolas were very keen to speak together, regarding the recent orc troubles,” said the Queen. “But that need not concern us. It will soon be dealt with. No Shadow can long abide in the dawn of this new Age, nor will any great threat return for many long years to come. But it is of you, Elireth, that we should speak. Not of your ill-considered flight, for that also is dealt with and shall be forgotten, but of what took place when the orcs attacked, for I see in your eyes and in the eyes of Legolas that some momentous change has taken place.”

The words of the Queen were balm to Elireth’s soul. She was forgiven; she was safe; she was able, even encouraged, to speak of the very things which were now foremost in her mind. And so, the next hour saw her seated upon the ground with her head in her mistress’ lap, as Arwen stroked her hair and listened with great interest to all she had to say. At length, Elireth sat up, and Arwen once more gazed intently into her eyes.

“Now I see all,” said the Queen. The name of Bond of Love was spoken in the halls of Rivendell, but even the very wise know not what its effects may be, for I do not know that its powers have ever been tested until now. I see a light in your eyes which was not there previously, somewhat akin to the light of my own people.”

Elireth started.

“Nay, you have not changed race,” said Queen Arwen with a smile. “No herb, however potent, could affect that change. But what passed between yourself and Legolas has changed you, Elireth. You are a true Elf-friend now, and it may be that you have been granted the life of the Elendili of old, even as Aragorn. You may have,” she reiterated. “Only time will tell.”

“But, Lady Arwen,” said Elireth. “I must ask this one thing. When we – when I – did he kiss me or was that just a dream?”

Arwen took both Elireth’s hands in her own.

“You must remember, Elireth,” she said, “Legolas has sat in the Halls of Mandos. For one who has been in Aman, however briefly, the desire to sail the Straight Road will always be uppermost, an even stronger passion than it was before. This I read in his eyes above all. But I also read that he has been changed, even as you have. That you have affected one another, I cannot deny. But, if his feelings for you run deeper than he admits, and I cannot say with any certainty that they do, then he will never be consciously aware of it. I was not there when this incident occurred, Elireth; neither did I foresee it. There are some questions which it is not wise to ask.”

Elireth bit her lip.

“And does wisdom forbid that I cherish this moment forever and pray to relive it eternally when I die, be that day near or far?” she asked.

The immeasurable beauty of Arwen’s Elven features lit up as she smiled lovingly at her maid-in-waiting.

“I think it may be permitted,” she whispered.

That night, as the last embers of the feast-fire died away, Elireth sat alone in the Grove. At a distance, Aragorn and Arwen walked hand-in-hand beneath the trees, singing in harmony a song of Lothlorien. High above in the branches, different but yet not discordant, the sound of Elven harps could be heard. She looked up to the canopy and then saw that Legolas was sitting above her, on the very same flet where she had seen him on the first morning of her visit. He waved to her, and quickly she climbed the rope ladder and came to sit beside him.

“I never thanked you,” he said, “for saving my life” and, as he spoke, he handed her a tiny red-and-white flower: Bond of Love.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the flower and smelling its delicate fragrance, “but I only did what any of your friends would have done. And, after all the trouble I put you through, you may have preferred it if I had left you dead!”

Legolas laughed and put his arm around her. And they sat without speaking, listening to the night-speech of the forest and the music of the harps. In time, Legolas began to sing in his soft voice, taking up the melody with words in his Woodland tongue. Yes, thought Elireth, there were some things which it was not wise to ask, and some which it was not wise to tell. Legolas would never know what had truly happened, but the secret was hidden in her heart and it would take her on through her new life. For this was a new beginning, and the stars of Elbereth were shining in the heavens, and her friend was by her side.

THE END.