Chapter 3: Chapter 3

"One important aspect of archery is patience. You cannot rush it, not when you are a beginner at least. You also need to listen. The wind will tell you everything you need to know." Tudor explained, lining both Legolas and Mistril in front. "Prince Legolas already has his own bow and quiver so I'll let you use my spares."

Mistril nodded in gratitude and took the equipment from her teacher. Tudor was a warm and gentle elf, not exactly one she would imagine fighting in battles. But then again, most elves are like him.

"Now, take an arrow and place it on the bow. Look at the target in front of you and try to keep your hands steady. If you twitch, the arrow will not hit the target." Tudor explained, watching Mistril carefully. Legolas was already used to the lessons and was growing comfortable with the bow in hand. "Shoot!" He said suddenly.

Legolas hit forward and so did Mistril but hers missed the target altogether. Her deep green eyes narrowed at the feeling of dissatisfaction. The dummy was right there and she missed by quite a bit. In a real battle, that would cost her, her life.

"You'll get better if you try. We can practice together." The prince said boldly noticing her disappointment.

They fired all the arrows in the quiver and then exchanged so they could fire again. Legolas was getting better with every shot while Mistril's hands started to tremble and at some point, she lost the strength to shoot. Seeing how they spent half a day like that, Tudor chose to stop.

"Great work, prince Legolas. Lady Mistril, you did well for your first time." Tudor said, taking the quivers from his students. "And I mean it. Not many beginners get to hit the target from the first shoot. If you practice more you won't get tired as fast."

"Thank you but if I continue practicing I'm afraid that King Thranduil will start suspecting my motives." She explained genuinely worried she'll get shunned.

"Not if I ask him for you to be my practice partner. Then he will have no choice but to call you my royal practice dummy." Legolas said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Mistril and Tudor glanced at each other bemused by the slyness of the young prince.

“That could happen. It’s not out of his power,” Tudor commented as he took the lead back to the Halls.

---

"Then, what else is it that you practice except archery? Swordsmanship? War logistics? Maps?" she asked Legolas feeling excited for some reason.

The prince chuckled but he enjoyed this nonchalant side of his friend.

“Not quite. More like dancing and royal behavior and courtship,” He replied with a roll of his eyes. “You can never be prepared, is what I’ve been told,”

“So early on?” Mistsril asked, finding the prince too innocent for such matters. “I guess your father worries a lot about the kingdom’s sake,”

“He does. Sometimes I get this feeling that he loves Greenwood more than he loves me,” Legolas muttered hoping that Mistril will not ask him for details.

“Love…what is love anyway? You shouldn’t worry about it just yet, prince,” She replied with a grin.

"You don't have to call me prince. You are not a wooden elf so it feels odd." Legolas started, feeling flushed by her words. It wasn’t exactly a piece of advice nor an encouragement, just a comment, but it was enough for him.

"Won't your father overreact at my impoliteness?" She asked, being polite when talking about the king.

"You don't need to worry. He isn't your king."

"But he can throw me out and I do not wish to find myself on the brink of death once more," She explained, glancing at the elfling.

Legolas was not a small and fragile elf he was actually tall and could definitely handle himself even in front of the king. But he was Thranduil’s son.

"I saved you, not my father. I decide when you leave." Legolas said with a tinge of the same coldness as Thranduil. She looked at him fondly and ruffled his blond hair. "Hey! I'm not a child!" He moaned narrowing his eyes at her.

"I apologize, Legolas." She answered making him smile although he was still throwing her nasty looks. "Well then, I'll drop you off at your rooms and I'll go back to my own after a quick visit to the healer." She announced.

---

Once Legolas was safely home, she did remember where to meet Gweluven. His office was close to the stone stage where she met Thranduil. Mistril had to give the woodland king some merit, his kingdom was filled with elegance and a strong connection to the forest. They held so much adoration and respect for every living thing in the world...something she didn't feel particularly drawn to.

The one to open the door and welcome Mistril was Miluinir. The ellon smiled brightly at her and urged her inside.

"How do you feel?" He asked once she sat down.

The brown haired elleth was there too, mixing some herbs for other patients.

"Will you go to the banquet? I'm sure Hinnorbes can get you a dress for it. She has many." Miluinir said glancing at the woman, emphasizing what became her hobby.

Hinnorbes rolled her eyes and ignored him as she approached Mistril with a phial.

"For nerves. You will need it if Miluinir will have to follow you around." She said throwing the young elf the same look he did just a few minutes ago.

Mistril laughed as the two started to bicker. Watching them made her feel happy and gave her a sense of friendship that she missed. Miluinir was childish and fun while Hinnorbes was serious and motherly and there was Gweluven, whose sudden entrance put a stop to the two healers.

"I was wondering why there is so much noise coming from here. Your voices echo down the hall." He said with a smirk, scolding the two. Then his eyes fell on his patient and the slight mischievous glint in his eye faded. "How are you Mistril?"

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Looking up into his eyes, Mistril found herself pondering on his question. She was alive and well and her memory did not improve nor did her talents.

"I met Faervel earlier today. It wasn't pleasant." she answered feeling a shiver down her spine at the memory.

Gweluven watched her in silence but Miluinir's reaction was a lot louder. Hinnorbes hit him several times but it looked like he could implode if he wouldn't express his amusement.

"Does your side hurt anymore?" Gweluven asked as soon as he saw her shift.

"No. I feel good. I-" she stopped and glanced at Hinnorbes for a moment before she looked back at Gweluven. "I don't know if I should go to the banquet. I feel like everybody will look at me the same way Edenith did."

"Edenith?" The healer asked curiously. "How did she look at you?"

"I don't mean to judge her since I am a stranger and I was brought in here under certain circumstances but she might have been a bit too...wary."

"What do you mean?" He asked, not suspicious but intrigued.

Mistril needed a moment to arrange her response. Thinking how Edenith hurried out of her room, another flash passed through her eyes. She was cornered and chained in a cell. Someone was bantering outside, violence ringing through the dark place. Then she felt immense pain and she fell on her knees.

"Mistril!" Gweluven did not expect her to react so strongly. He reached out to touch her but she stopped him.

"I'm fine! I'm fine." She repeated that like a mantra until she calmed down. She looked up at the healer with a glint of darkness but it faded quickly.

Maybe the difference wasn't felt but Gweluven saw her eyes becoming grey for a moment before returning to their natural color. But he chose not to tell her, not yet. That, of course, did not mean the rest haven't noticed. Once Mistril left, Miluinir and Hinnorbes approached their teacher with worry.

"Will she be alright?" Miluinir asked.

"I gave her a concoction of Roman Chamomile and Heimia Salicifolia to relax her mind. It might be enough for her to remember more." Hinnorbes added, suddenly having a bad feeling about how vivid Mistril will dream at night.

---

"I look strange."

Mistril was staring at her reflection with doubt. She hadn't dressed in such feminine clothes before, she could feel it. The robe she wore was long and vapory but the sleeves were long and tight. The material around her collarbone intertwined silk with lace and granted to an elleth her hair was braided like she had a crown.

"You look beautiful." Miluinir said from the doorway. He was supposed to be her partner for the night and help her get acquainted with the rest of the guests. “You look like an elleth,”

"I feel odd, though. It's hard to move in this and even harder to fight in it." She explained still spinning all ways.

"It's a night of joy and honor. I assure you there won't be any fights; only dancing and drinking." Miluinir replied not bothering to contain his excitement. “Let’s go¬”

Walking to the halls of the banquet, she started to feel less and less confident. Her shoes were white and the dress was a pale blue color. Her eyes were wandering over every elf and elleth and couldn't help but smile at the sight. They were having fun, they were at peace with each other and they seemed busy with their own discussions. It was somehow nostalgic.

As soon as she entered the hall, she saw the long wooden table where important elves were drinking and eating. Gweluven was there, talking with an elf that did not look like he was part of the wooden realm either. At the head of the table was Thranduil. It was hard to say for sure if he was content or not because his lips were set in a straight line.

"Mistril!" Legolas saw her as soon as she stepped in, "I'm glad you actually came. I was afraid you'd want to avoid Faervel and lock yourself in your room." The prince added narrowing his eyes at her in a teasing manner.

Miluinir chuckled under his hand but did keep an eye on her after her recent episode. But Mistril seemed to be lenient and enjoyed Legolas' sense of humor.

Not many elves paid attention to them but Mistril's eyes traveled around the wide space and noticed both familiar faces -which were very limited- and many others that she was not so sure she wanted to meet. It was quite clear everyone inside the hall was of some kind of importance to the kingdom: there were healers, soldiers, politicians, and so on.

Legolas grabbed her arm and pulled her to where other elves were dancing. He kept her so focused on that that she completely forgot what the banquet was about. Legolas was smiling joyfully and she found herself following him wherever he led her, losing Miluinir on the way. She danced with more people once she loosened up and many more danced around her.

Thranduil was watching closely, his hand hiding the ghost of a smile. Mistril was not a wood elf and she was very bad at everything his wife exceeded. But somehow she reminded him of his mother and the elleths he knew before he followed his father to Greenwood.

Mistril's laughter made Thranduil remember his youthful years. The celebrations at Oropher's court were filled with good food and music and many more elves and elflings. It was a good time and seeing her have fun made him feel nostalgic.

"My king," Gweluven's voice forced the king to open his eyes and return to the present. "I believe that lady Mistril can remember her past if we give her time but my lord, what if it isn't in her best interest to remember?"

"What do you mean?"

"She went through terrible pain a few hours ago. Her eyes turned grey for a moment. The pain she felt was most definitely psychological, a ghost of an older wound." Gweluven whispered, trying his best not to make the conversation a public one.

Thranduil took a peek at the woman laughing with his son. He knew everything she did earlier that day, how she failed at being a lady and turned to archery. Tudor didn't give him an exact answer when asked what her level was which let Thranduil with more questions about what exactly she could do.

"Keep her under your watch." Thranduil ordered.

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