Chapter
1
He had never forgotten nor had he ever stopped searching. It was
burned far too deeply into his heart and mind
In
the midst of the slaughter of the travelling company to which
he belonged, he had run, unarmed, untrained and desperate to
live. But they had followed him, the orcs, hunting him down
on snarling wargs.
Even
to this day he could remember the stench of their breath as
they closed in on him and the terrified pounding of his own
heart as he became more and more certain that death was upon
him.
From
the corner of his eye he had seen the swing of the blade and
ducked. But the long scimitar still caught him a glancing blow
on the head and he went down, crying out in pain, blood pouring
from the wound.
He
had expected to die then, as the orc moved in for the kill.
Looking up his vision blurred as the gruesome creature bore
down on him.
Yet at the moment when he should have been sent to Mandos’
Halls, the orc let out a scream as a long blade pierced his
chest, killing him within seconds.
The
others had turned from him then and through his pain and confusion,
Lindir could see a lone figure fighting off the remaining five
orcs that had pursued him. He would have thought such actions
folly, but his rescuer had appeared to know what he was doing
and the orcs and wargs fell in short order to arrows and blade.
When
silence had at last the figure made his way over to him. Lindir
had never found out if it was an elf that had come to his aid,
he could hardly see and consciousness was fast slipping away.
Moving was also out of the question. All he could do was lay
there and hope.
He
remembered gentle arms lifting from the ground and a soft voice
whispering words of comfort as he whimpered in pain. He had
felt the heat of a fire as it flared up nearby and a light pressure
on his head as his wound was bound. Then a cup had been pressed
to his lips and he had tasted the bitterness of a healing tea.
After
that he remembered nothing.
****************
He
had awoken three days later in Imladris, in the healing house.
No one had been able to tell him who his saviour was; he had
been taken to the healers and made comfortable on a bed even
before Lord Elrond had been alerted to his presence.
By
the time they had realised he was there, whoever it was had
gone.
Once
he recovered he had tried to find whoever it was, but without
success. Eventually he had given up and moved on with his life
but he never forgot. Over four centuries had passed now and
he had become chief minstrel of the Elven Haven, but thoughts
of that day still lingered in his mind. All he wanted to do
was say thank you. In his heart he wondered if that would ever
be possible.
Currently
he was on his way to Greenwood, for the summer festival. Since
settling in Imladris after his people were slaughtered, he had
made quite a name for himself as a minstrel and his presence
had been specifically requested by King Thranduil.
The
mood was light as they approached the great forest; even the
guards would get chance to enjoy the festivities and anticipation
was running high. The trees seemed to be a part of the celebrations
too, as they swayed gently in time with the distant music.
Upon
their arrival they were met by an equally cheerful party of
Wood Elves, who took them in to meet the Elvenking, who was
greeting his many guests in the throne room.
**********
As
they walked through the halls they took in the many flower garlands
that decorated everything, the bright colours lending to the
atmosphere of celebration. Lindir smiled; even though he was
here to perform he knew he was also going to enjoy himself greatly.
The colours, the atmosphere, it was one of the most wonderful
things Lindir had ever experienced.
They
were escorted quickly to the throne room where the King was
already awaiting them, looking resplendent in dark green robes
and with a crown of summer flowers woven into his golden hair.
“Welcome,
my friends!” he said, smiling at them warmly. “I
am glad you could make the journey to join us!”
The
head of the party, an elf named Orain, stepped forward.
Greetings, your majesty, we are delighted to be able to share
this celebration with you! I bring with me Lindir, Lord Elrond’s
chief minstrel, at your request.” Placing his hand on
Lindir’s arm, he gently pushed the minstrel forward.
Lindir
bowed, smiling at the Woodland King who looked delighted.
“Welcome,
Lindir! Lord Elrond has been telling me of your musical talents
for years; it is wonderful that you have come to charm my people
at last!”
At
this Lindir blushed and Thranduil laughed, though he could see
that the travellers were weary.
“However
it can wait until this evening. Go and rest, should you need
anything you have but to ask.”
“Thank
you, Your Majesty,” Lindir replied, glad that he wouldn’t
have to play just yet. He needed the rest if he was to impress
them tonight.
Thranduil
assigned guards to show them to their quarters and Lindir followed
them through the palace, enjoying watching all the elves go
about their business, preparing for the festival that night.
By
the time he reached the rooms he was to stay in, the journey
had really caught up with him and he was glad to sink into a
hot bath and then sleep for a few hours before returning to
the central courtyard where the celebrations were to be held.
************
As
the sun set, Lindir checked his appearance, smoothing down his
robes and making sure his braids were straight before leaving
the room, harp in hand. He was looking forward to the concert,
it was rare that he got chance to play outside of Imladris.
On
arriving at the courtyard he could see that a dais had been
set up near the centre for the musicians and that a few elves
were already there, tuning their instruments before the concert
began.
He
smiled as he approached them and introduced himself. They were,
he quickly discovered, quite a mixture, some were Greenwood
natives, but others were from Lindon and from Lórien
as well.
That
night they would play separately, as they learned what each
had to offer, but on the last night they would be expected to
play together in concert as the celebrations reached their peak.
As
he seated himself an Elleth approached him, wild blond hair
falling in her eyes.
“Greetings
Lindir,” she said, “I am Laeriel, chief minstrel
of Greenwood. It is an honour to have you here.”
He
nodded in response, blushing slightly at the compliment. “My
thanks, Lady,” he responded. “It is an honour to
be here. I look forward to playing with you.”
“As
I look forward to playing with you,” she replied, then
broke off as movement started at the edge of the courtyard.
She grinned, “Time to start!” Swiftly she took her
seat and she and her musicians began to play as King Thranduil,
his wife and young son entered and made their way to where another
platform had been raised and wooden thrones erected.
Once
the Royal family was seated, Thranduil looked at the crowd and
with the simple phrase ‘let the festivities commence’
the evening truly started.
Lindir
played on and off for hours, revelling in the happy atmosphere,
never seeming to tire. Yet he was not blind and quickly became
aware that he was being watched.
Glancing over, he saw a tall, slender elf, seemingly trying
to melt into the wall he stood against. His grey tunic marked
him as a member of the Galadhrim and from the look on his face
he clearly wished to fade into the background. The only movement
at all was from his eyes, which tracked the minstrel’s
every movement.
When
next they took a break Lindir turned to Laeriel, confusion on
his face.
“Do you know who that is?” he asked, inclining his
head towards the elf.
Laeriel
looked over briefly, hoping the elf would not notice.
“His name is Rúmil, from Lorien. He’s nice
enough but so shy it’s painful. I don’t think anyone
has ever managed to hold a conversation with him.”
Lindir
listened, his eyes still on the Galadhel. There was just something
about him, though Lindir couldn’t work out what it was.
Noticing
the look, Laeriel smiled. “He seems interested in you…
who knows? Maybe you are the one who bring him out of his shell!”
A
speculative look crossed Lindir’s face. “Aye, maybe.”
****************
It
was in the early hours of the morning that the party finally
ended. Lindir was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to
sleep. However he also wanted to try to talk to Rúmil,
to see if he could find out why the elf had been watching him
all evening.
However,
in the seconds it took for him to bend and pick up his harp,
Rúmil had vanished.
Lindir
sighed; it seemed as though Rúmil was going to prove
elusive. With a sigh he headed off to bed, unaware that the
elf he sought was actually still watching him from the shadows
of a stone pillar.
End
Chapter One
