Chapter 5: Chapter 5

The forest of Greenwood was peaceful. As soon as they stepped outside and every guard went his way, Mistril realized just how large was the land of the wood elves. Besides, their clothes were the same colour as the trees and bushes so they could easily hide in plain sight. 

"Where do we have to go?" Mistril asked, following Maerdor with no idea what patrolling truly was about. "And what exactly do we have to do?"

"We walk around, spend some time in our little part of the land and make sure nothing vile enters Greenwood." Replied the warrior.

"Sounds easy enough," Mistril mumbled suddenly feeling disappointed.

"It is, in times of peace. I know I sound odd but sometimes I wish something would happen to make us more alert."

Mistril glanced at Maerdor with a chuckle, having an idea of how conflicted he must feel.

But he was right, nothing really happened. Spring was in full bloom and little animals were running here and there. Birds were chirping, there was no cloud in the sky and the sun was shining brightly.

Ever since she was brought to Greenwood, Mistril had never walked outside the woodland. It was freeing, in a way, to be able to run and jump and just play around without the king breathing down the back of her neck.

A breeze moved Mistril's hair softly and she closed her eyes, listening in for any type of sound coming from the forest. She heard a person pulling out an arrow and firing it in her direction.

"Don't lose yourself in the sight. The enemy can be anywhere," was the friendly advice that followed.

That was not Maerdor but the archer Tudor. He waved at her with a loose smile before someone walked up behind him. It was an elleth with long brown hair and brown eyes and she was dressed the same as Mistril, only her clothes fit her better. Her eyes landed on Mistril and gave a quick nod as a sign of acknowledgment before she pushed Tudor forward.

"That's Hathelwen. She's an archer too."

"She seems very strict."

"She's an angel compared to Faervel," Maerdor explained listening for any sign that the subject he spoke of was near. “I only heard stories from when he used to fight for King Oropher. It is said that he continued the fight at Dagorlad even after he got severely wounded. He denied aid from healers and killed hundreds of orcs with the blade that wounded him.” Maerdor added, his eyes widening at the scale of his own words.

"What happened at Dagorlad?" she asked innocently. Maerdor stopped and stared at her with an incredulous expression. "What?" she was genuinely confused and curious.

"The war happened. It was the greatest and most horrific set of battles that Middle Earth has ever seen. There were many casualties from both sides." Maerdor explained still finding it hard that she didn't know. "I know once it ended, elves from everywhere decided not to talk about it if possible but haven't you heard any stories about it before?"

"Even if I did, I can't remember." 

Maerdor frowned before he opened his mouth and spoke words that he should have not.

"Consider yourself lucky." the tone of his voice was almost as if he was envying her condition, even though there was no need to. 

"So the advice would be to keep my mouth shut in front of Faervel?" She changed the subject and the mood along with it.

“You cannot begin to imagine what lies behind Faervel’s calm façade. He is one of the oldest elves in Greenwood." 

"So is Gweluven, right?" She asked watching her partner take a break under the soothing shadow of a tree. 

"I believe that Gweluven and Faervel have known the king ever since he was an elfling. They were loyal to king Oropher and now they are loyal to Thranduil. It is only normal that they feel protective over him. Oropher died on the battlefield, in the most gruesome way, right under his son's eyes. It was horrible. I can't even imagine how Thranduil felt, especially because he became king overnight." Maerdor explained, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. 

"How did king Oropher die?" Mistril asked, her hands sweating at an uncomfortable and guilty feeling in her gut.

"They killed him, cut his head off, and showcased it to anger and demoralize everyone from our side. Many elves, men, and dwarves died during those days. I wish I could erase the memories of those times from my mind but I cannot," 

Mistril sighed and tried to contain the overwhelming guilt that flooded her being. She looked to the side and wiped her eyes, hoping Maerdor won't notice her tears. 

Nothing happened afterward and time passed incredibly slowly during the first half of the day. Mistril leaned against the tree and listened. Except for the other elves moving around and whispering here and there, nothing was out of the ordinary.

By the time they returned, she was hungry and felt like sparing with somebody just for the fun of moving around. Her muscles were numb and her eyes felt sore but everything else was fine. However, when night came, she couldn't help but remember Maerdor's recalling of Dagorlad. She couldn't help but avoid looking straight at Thranduil during dinner.

---

No memory surfaced for the next few weeks. It was as if she finally settled into this new environment and having Miluinir close to her side made her relax.

"Are you enjoying the life of a guard?" he asked while they were in the library on one of the days the king trusted they wouldn't set anything on fire.

"It's boring but that's better than being attacked," she said, partially hoping a battle will ensue at some point.

"What about archery? Have you gotten on Legolas' level yet?" 

"No," she replied right away, "I need hundreds more years to get to that level when I can also move while holding a bow and arrow. I'm afraid I'll hit somebody if I do as much as breathe," she added, self-aware of how much of a beginner she was. "My hands tremble a lot."

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"I noticed. Even when we were trying to coerce you into being a healer, or a helper, your hands just wouldn't stop trembling, it was worse than the patient. Does it happen when you go on patrol as well?"

"No. But sometimes Tudor finds it amusing to scare me by firing arrows at my body."

Miluinir frowned which brought a content smile to her face. He was worried for her safety and it looked genuine besides, the concoction given to her by Hinnorbes seemed to diminish the constant state of anxiety she felt and life became quite joyful.

"I'll inform her of your trembling hands and she will prepare something for that too. Hinnorbes is exceptional at chemistry."

"She looks like she would make a wonderful mother."

"Of course she does! Her son is as tall as I am and he is only 100 years older than Legolas." Miluinir explained laughing at her shocked face. "We're the same age but I never married. I like being a wondrous elf."

"Have you ever been outside Greenwood?" Mistril asked eyeing him suspiciously. He seemed to know nothing but the forest he grew up in. 

"Yes, of course! I've been to Esgaroth!" he said proudly which made the elleth scoff. "It's enough for me! The world is wide and beautiful but it's also dangerous for an elf like me. I'm a healer not a warrior." he added, pulling his precious hands close to his chest lovingly.  

"Can you hold a sword?" she asked bemusedly which only made the healer glare at her, offended.

"Of course, I can! My father is a craftsman. He works down at the store with my brothers."

"I guess you were the rebel that decided he is far too delicate for such hard work." that was a statement not a question and it sounded even worse in Miluinir's ears.

"My hands heal while theirs create and forge weapons, among other things. I prefer to save people rather than make the mean of their death." Miluinir explained, having a valid point that impressed Mistril, especially because she could see the passion in his eyes.

"I wish I could remember more about my family. Those are the only memories I want," she mumbled feeling like she just damped the mood but Miluinir wrapped an arm around her shoulder and patted her in a friendly way. 

"You have all the time in the world. The king seems to have decided you are safe and you can live here for as long as the Valar wants." 

That would have been nice, they both thought, but the king had moods and he had advisers, Gweluven and Faervel among that very limited group.  But Miluinir succeeded in sending her off to her patrolling duties with a positive attitude, which was not fit for Maerdor, who liked her better when she was brooding.

"Maerdor, what's around Greenwood?" she suddenly asked, jumping into a tree for a better view.

"It stretches from the foothills of the Grey Mountains in the north to the North Undeep in the south, and from the east edge of the vale of Anduin to Erebor.” He replied playing with one of Mistril’s daggers.

"Where did I come from?" She asked receiving a curious glance. "What direction did I come from? Where was I found?"

"From what I heard, you most certainly came from the Misty Mountains and if I were to guess, you were probably going to Esgaroth. Goblins found you and didn't think much about what to do with you." He said nonchalantly.

"Do you think that maybe I was their prisoner?"

"I don't know and I can't say. But if you knew how to fight then maybe you did escape." Maerdor said not convinced of his own words.

"I wish I could remember bits but everything is so blurry."

"What can you remember?" Maerdor asked moving closer to the tree she was in.

"War. Red-haired elves dying. Fear and panic and...orcs."

"Usually orcs do come with fear and panic," Maerdor commented almost getting hit by another dagger. He raised an eyebrow surprised at how precise she threw it. "Try now and think about it. What do you see?"

Mistril closed her eyes and listened to the wind. He was soothing her with songs by flowers and leaves but there, in the very back, she could hear screams. They were horrible, very low in tone, and among them, there were swears spoken in many languages. If she were to try even harder, she could hear a soft voice, telling her that everything will be alright, but if she were to be sincere, that was probably her own desire.

"Nothing much," She replied before she jumped next to him. "You said it yourself, lucky I am for not remembering the pain."

Unfortunately, that same night she walked into her room after a late dinner and felt as if somebody was following her. Mistril looked everywhere and hurried to lock the door but the ominous presence was still there. She spun around, searching for the intruder but there was nothing. She was all alone physically, but she knew he was watching. The same person who marked her was watching her from afar and she could feel he was going to punish her for escaping. A knock woke her from her reverie and she breathed out, relaxing at the sound of Miluinir's voice. 

"I brought you a new set of sheets since Edenith had to take the old ones to clean them. Can you...unlock the door?" He asked, sensing that something was weird. 

Mistril hurried to let him in and she tried to look as if nothing happened and she didn't just suffer a panic attack. 

"Are you alright? Your light is...smaller than usual." Miluinir was curious but he was also aware he shouldn't insist. "Was it a hard day today? Maerdor is a nuisance, isn't he? Always sulking. It's almost as if he wants us to be at war. Always going on about how he's losing the will to pretend that he's happy, but everyone already knows he's miserable. He rarely does anything but training and patrolling. He should have been sent to the south, near that damned place. I get goosebumps just speaking of it. Oh, by the way-" Miluinir went on and on and Mistril was thankful. He was diverting her attention to little things that she wasn't interested in but were still a great help.

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