Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Needless to say, dinner that afternoon was different. Glorfindel sat on Thranduil's left side and Legolas on his right. There was immense respect from the young prince towards a legendary ellon but he couldn't help feel a bit envious about how Mistril seemed to radiate around him. 

"So how do you know Mistril, lord Glorfindel?" Legolas asked watching the blonde warrior intensely. 

"We came from the same city. I recognized her as soon as I saw her green eyes. There are no elves left in Middle earth with eyes that express both the past and the present such as her family's." 

"So she's from Gondolin?" Legolas exclaimed, completely taken aback by the information. "That's amazing! What else?"

Mistril smiled awkwardly, feeling a knot form in her stomach. For some reason, it made her feel bad. 

"I'm sure Glorfindel will be more than happy to share all he knows after dinner, Legolas." Thranduil interfered, throwing a glance at the subject herself. 

---

The group retreated later that night in Thranduil's study. The Elvenking invited both to sit while he decided to stay on his feet. Legolas leaned against his father's desk, having no interest on what was on it. Finally someone had the answers wanted and that was Glorfindel, the celebrated hero. 

"Mistril, the eldest daughter of Valdaglerion. It's been too long since I mentioned your father. Your family was not noble but it was very respected in Gondolin." Glorfindel started smiling at the woman in front of him. "No smith could compare to your father's swords."

"Who was my father?" She asked feeling insane happiness.

"Valdaglerion was Gondolin’s treasured blacksmith. He forged many swords, mine included. His wife was a musician at the court. His two sons were warriors I had fought alongside and his daughters...one was a musician at the palace and the other was more interested in the army than anything else."

"Is that why I am so fond of swords?"

Glorfindel laughed whole-heartedly, "You were fond of fighting in general. I can still remember this elfling that enjoyed sneaking into the training grounds with her wooden sword. Your brothers taught you well but you wanted more...you wanted to actively fight into my army."

Glorfindel could still see her running around saying she could take him on any day. Thranduil sighed relieved by what he heard. If Mistril had always had this peculiar attraction to fighting then nothing changed. She was still better at sparing and patrolling rather than helping around the kingdom.

"What happened to me?"

"I do not know for sure. I lost sight of you and your family during the fall of Gondolin." Glorfindel answered looking into her eyes with worry.

"He died heroically."

For some reason Thranduil's remark sounded more like he was annoyed rather than joyful. Glorfindel was a hero in the eyes of every elf that lived and Thranduil had immense respect for him but not at that particular moment.  

"So then I come from Gondolin?" She asked still not very sure. But some of those memories were coming back to her slowly. Glorfindel's face was like a tip of the trail leading her to her happy memories.

"Gondolin fell a long time ago." Thranduil said.

"So then my family...is dead?"

"I cannot say. It was a bloody and messy battle and many have probably sacrificed their lives."

"Very few survived the memory." Thranduil added watching Mistril.

"But what have I done from that moment to my discovery in Greenwood?" She asked still having just one small piece of the puzzle.

Glorfindel didn't have an answer for that. He was worried because the elfling full of happiness he knew became an elleth of much suffering. Her eyes were the best mirror to her soul and everything she lived but could not remember. Unlike the other elves, Glorfindel had a certain way of looking at her –with genuine care, Thranduil will realize later on- and she was an open book in front of him because of that.  

"I'm sorry. I should have searched for all the remaining survivors."

She closed her eyes and frowned as pieces of her torture surfaced in her memory. Her head hurt as the image of a cave appeared before her eyes, and against a wall was the thin body of a red haired elleth who looked more dead than alive. However, she rose her head and Mistril gasped and unconsciously jumped on her feet.

"They caught me and imprisoned me in a cave, in the mountains. It was fine at first, they were dumb and just let me be. But then he came," She said, tears filling her eyes. "l wanted nothing but to close my eyes forever. I don't know for how long I was held in there but it didn't even matter. Nobody was going to save me, not even my hero, Glorfindel." She added, tears falling down her cheeks as the older wound re-opened. 

"Where in the mountains?" Thranduil asked with an eyebrow raised. 

When her eyes landed on him, he regretted asking. He could see raw pain, the kind that you can never heal from. He knew, Thranduil had been staring everyday since his wife's death at the same pain in his mirror.

“That doesn't matter. Nobody ever searched for me. Nobody. He was right.” She whispered, chocking at the realization of the man who saved her.

In the maze of memories, she saw him. The one who reached out and helped her back on her feet. Her eyes widened and she glanced at Legolas with guilt. 

The Elvenking frowned at the sight. He saw her tense and look at his son as if she was caught doing something. Did she remember how she got her marks? Or maybe what actually happened to her? Thranduil was genuinely curious. Those green eyes, always blank in front of him, were finally unveiling themselves. She was an elleth of many secrets.

"Who took you?" Glorfindel asked which seemed to strike a chord in Mistril.

"I need to go rest for a bit," She said and hurried out of there.

Legolas glanced at his father before he rushed after Mistril.

---

Glorfindel watched the orange haired elleth run away, her beautiful green eyes in tears. That was a sight he rarely saw when she was young. Thranduil turned to the Balrog slayer with one eyebrow rose, especially seeing how hurt he seemed.

"What exactly was your relationship with Mistril?" Thranduil asked.

Glorfindel looked at the Elvenking and sighed.

"She used to come to me and play or do errands for her father."

"She is the daughter of Valdaglerion. She should be able to forge her own sword if she wants to." Thranduil thought out loud, finally realizing why she was so curious with his blacksmiths.

Glorfindel watched the king with a suspicious glint in his eyes. Thranduil wasn't the friendliest elf.

"Did you make her feel unwelcome?"

Thranduil would have almost scoffed if it wasn't for the memory of the last few years. They fought only hours ago over the same subject: her wrists.  

"What makes you believe that?" The Elvenking asked eyeing Glorfindel suspiciously.

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"I am only wondering."

"If she wanted to leave she had many opportunities. She was not kept as a prisoner. She spent more than 1000 years here." Thranduil added pissed off that he was being incriminated for something he didn’t do.

Glorfindel sighed feeling even worse than before. Mistril has been in Greenwood for more than 1000 years and he didn't even know. He didn't search for his people and just went along with the Valar's choice of returning him to Arda. He never assured himself that all the survivors from Gondolin were found.

"You shouldn't blame yourself. If she was indeed taken by orcs then you couldn't have found her even if you searched every cave." Thranduil said once he noticed the discomfort on Glorfindel's face.

"I was her hero and I let her down." Glorfindel whispered.

---

Mistril was going to her room when she felt a slight breeze behind her.

"What are you doing messing around? Don't you have to help Gweluven?" She asked in a scolding tone, surprising the blond.

"Is that a way to speak with the prince?" He asked glaring playfully at her as he put his sword down.

"I remember you telling me not to behave with you as if to a prince. If I do so, then you should treat me like a stranger."

Legolas was taken aback by her sudden seriousness.

"You're not a stranger, Mistril. What happened back there? What did you remember?"

It was quite clear that something triggered a new memory and it was not one she wanted to remember.

"Look, Legolas, we both know that I had come from a dark place. You saw my wrists, everyone did and even if they don't show it, they are wary. It's best if I don't remember more." She explained feeling exhausted.

"It doesn't matter if you do. You need to know who you are and for that you need to remember what happened to you. Those marks mean nothing, your actions speak more about your true personality." Legolas said, taking a step closer to her and touching her arm. "I like you just the way you are, the way I know you. Isn't that enough?" 

Mistril's whole demeanour softened up at the expression of the prince. He was so warm and genuine that it truly made her feel like family. 

"It would be so nice if you really knew me but I'm afraid there is so much that neither you nor I don't know." 

"Mistril!"

Both turned their heads towards the man searching for the one elleth he forgot about. If her face softened at the sight of Legolas, she became an empty shell at the sight of Glorfindel.

"I'm sorry I couldn't search for you. I should have tried my best but it wasn't my choice to return. I died and then the Valar sent me back with a new purpose." He tried to explain himself although he was aware it was not helpful.

"You should have tried harder. My brothers died for you." She hissed before spinning around and rushing to her room.

Legolas blinked in awe. He had never seen her so angry before, not even when she had to go to Dol Guldur.

---

It was later that night when Mistril stood in front of her window, staring ahead at the sky with eyes shining in sadness. The world she was dragged into was far darker than any shadow. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she let herself fall into that memory.

"Lirneth! Wait for me!" Mistril screamed at her young sister. There were so many orcs that she could barely take a step without defending herself. But Lirneth was still far and glancing behind, her brothers were busy protecting other civilians.

"Mistril!" The elfling shouted back, ducking when an elf was thrown at her.

Mistril tried her best to make her way to her sister. She looked back again, hoping her father was near after they got lost but she didn't see him. Instead, she saw her oldest brother jumping over an orc before having to kill a few more.

But it wasn't enough. She had to move forward but her strength was not a match for the huge number of enemies.

"Mistril!" She heard Lirneth's voice but couldn't see her anymore; "Mistril!" was heard again.

The same image of the red haired elfling being pushed down and killed came into her mind. It was horrible seeing it so much clearer than before. Mistril shouted in pain as an orc got to her and scratched her leg. Looking around she saw the decapitation of her oldest brother and she felt another piece of her heart break. And then a group of orcs surrounded her and started to call her names. She was ready to fight for her life but the whole memory became black.

She woke up in a cold place with blood dripping from the side of her head. She looked around alarmed and figured she was in a cell.

"Hey! Wake up already! Let's enjoy!"

She frowned but couldn't even have an opinion because somebody grabbed her by her hair and dragged her out, throwing her into an empty space. Orcs and goblins were around, watching two other orcs fight between themselves. One of them was huge.

"Get her in! Get her in! That filth will scream beautifully!" A small sized orc urged.

She looked up at the huge one and swallowed nervously. The pain that followed was excruciating and it was only the beginning.

Mistril opened her eyes and shuddered at the memory. She could still feel her former injuries and how eager orcs were to see such a show again. It was a surprised that she survived in the first place.

A knock made her flinch and from the way it sounded she was sure it was Gweluven. Just as she expected, he walked in with a confused expression.

"Did lord Glorfindel ask you to check on me?" She asked annoyed.

"Is there a reason why he should?"

Mistril shook her head and welcomed Gweluven in the same manner as usual. They sat on the bed and just like every time, she waited for him to ask her whatever he was supposed to ask.

Surprisingly he didn't mutter a word but just stood there. His eyes were not judging her but they weren't as genuine as Glorfindel's.

"My family is dead. They were murdered by orcs. My city has fallen and I know now that I had experienced a life worst than death itself." She started knowing he wanted to know.

"King Thranduil sent me to check on you.” Gweluven said eventually. "The king appears cold and judgemental but he truly cares for his people. He may not be so open with his feelings and thoughts like Legolas or lord Glorfindel, but he does care for you too." Gweluven defended Thranduil, knowing that every word he said was true.

“If he has anything to say, he should do it personally.” Mistril answered coldly, getting up and turning her back to the healer. She preferred to believe there was no sympathy from the Elvenking, otherwise her heart was going to become greedy.

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