Since Glorfindel came on his beautiful white horse, he assured her there was no need for another because Asfaloth was strong enough to carry them both. That was how she ended up staying in front of him with his arms safely secured around her.
"What's Rivendell like?" She asked trying to reassure herself that she took the right decision.
"Peaceful. You will love it there and they will welcome you too. I already sent word to Lord Elrond so everything will be prepared for when we arrive." He sounded incredibly serene for what a change it was for Mistril.
There was silence until Glorfindel looked down at the thoughtful elleth. He tried entering her mind once but it was like a wall well guarded.
"Are you thinking about Legolas? I heard you were his most trusted companion before the king started to send you on tiresome errands." Glorfindel said bemusedly.
"He found me in the forest and insisted that I was alive. I will forever be grateful to him." She said looking down at her hands. "You know about my wrists, don't you? I'm sure the Elvenking told you about them."
"He did not, actually. Gweluven is the one that gave me a full report on your state of mind and body. Thranduil only talked to me about state affairs and rumors that have been spreading all through middle earth. The only time he mentioned you was after you talked to him about your leave."
"And what did he say? Did he jump in joy?" she asked sarcastically making him laugh.
"No but I think, and this is only my opinion, that he regretted it. He might be doubtful and selfish and overly suspicious but that is how a king should be, especially one who suffered as he did." Glorfindel explained, his voice growing sorrow, "Maybe one day he will tell you everything. One day you might find that you two have more in common than you expect."
"What if these green eyes will turn black by then?" She asked, remembering her memories and dreams.
Glorfindel didn't answer but he tightened his grip on the reins. It was a lot comfortable because as many other elves, they didn’t use much gear on their horses. There was such a strong bond between the rider and its horse that there was no need to control but just understand one another.
From Greenwood to Rivendell was quite a distance and yet the journey was shorter than she expected. She was excited to meet what Glorfindel called the Last Homey House of the East Sea and its lord. Glorfindel told her much about Elrond and his bravery in the war. He was also a friend to each and every race that needed his counsel, compared to Thranduil who seemed to strongly dislike everyone, especially dwarves.
“He is not the only one but he does seem to have a tendency to overreact over that matter. I heard his business with the dwarves of Erebor did not end well.” Glorfindel commented when she opened up the subject.
By day they would speak about everything and anything and by night Glorfindel could see a change in Mistril’s demeanor. She either had nightmares, or she’d prefer not to sleep at all and train with her daggers or simply she’d stand by the river and look back at the way they came from.
“What made you decide so fast that you wanted to come with me?” He asked one night.
“You know me,” was her simple answer.
“So did the people of Greenwood. You opened up to them and they did so too in return. They seemed to like you.”
“But the feeling of belonging appeared only when you arrived. It might sound childish but I feel this strong sense of safety and family when I am around you. I’d like to cling onto it for as long as I can.”
Hearing her words Glorfindel’s eyes softened and he wrapped an arm around her figure. She leaned her head against his chest and listened to his beating heart. It was calming and it reminded her of her father for some reason.
“You must have felt lonely for a long time.” He said nuzzling his nose into her hair, “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have gone through such experiences.”
“I suppose more important battles had to be fought. I vanished in the middle of war and was forced to fight my own battle.”
She was not necessarily blaming Glorfindel anymore. She felt that if she blamed everyone, it would just pull her back to where she escaped from and she didn’t want that. She shuddered at a quick flash of a tall and sinister man in her mind.
“You went inside the fortress as well, haven’t you?” she asked after a quick pause in which she could only hear his steady breathing and the camp fire burning.
“I have, yes. On my way back I met a group of orcs, slightly bigger than the last time I saw some. They were expected, from what I understood.” He explained before he asked, “What did you see in Dol Guldur?”
“Nothing or maybe it was something. I felt a thick veil of darkness fall over me and I couldn’t stand being there.” She answered, getting quite comfortable in his arms.
“There are rumors about a wizard hiding in the fortress. Men spread them so they may not be accurate. Maybe orcs are invading it for their own purposes.” He muttered before he glanced at her hands. “Do you remember how you got those?”
“I don’t want to.”
The last night before they arrived was particularly strange for Mistril. Glorfindel was sleeping and his horse was resting nearby. She went and placed her feet in the water, looking at her reflection carefully. Her hair used to be long and dark red. Grabbing a hand through her short locks it felt like her head was lighter and she could fight better without being careful of her hair. Her eyes narrowed as her mind unveiled yet another painful memory.
She was chained to a wall and she was half naked. Voices were yelling at her but she could hardly hear them. Something hard and cold touched her bare back before it hit her making her scream. It happened a few more times and her screams became louder until she could hardly keep herself awake. It wasn’t just that moment but all those that came before; she has been in there for so long that she could barely remember how her language sounded or how the sun felt on her skin. Water and food were nice dreams for her but there was always a gleam of hope in her eyes. Maybe he will save her. Maybe her hero will come and ease the pain. But darkness was lurking in her heart. Or maybe he won’t, it said. Maybe he is dead or maybe he doesn’t care about a fallen elfling. Why would he? He was a lord while she was the blacksmith’s daughter. She was nothing. Those thoughts ate her soul bit by bit. One final hit sent her into unconsciousness but the orcs were not yet satisfied. They threw muddy water over her face and she did wake up but she didn’t open her eyes.
“Wake her up, wake her up! Come on! I want my turn!” One filthy orc shouted.
“Wait in line! We have enough time. She won’t go anywhere.” Another said.
Those words stung. They were right and she was doomed to an infinite torture. Death was too good at that point. No, she was angry. She was broken, disappointed in her own kin and her elvish light diminished to the point it transformed into something else. Mistril’s once deep green eyes became pitch black and she lost all there was that made her an elf.
Mistril opened her eyes and gasped at not only what she saw but also what she felt. So much anger, so much pain and they led her to become a monster.
The wind blew softly and urged her to look up. On the other shore she noticed someone standing, or hiding in the shadows of the trees. His form was hard to distinguish but his eyes were bright and they were staring at her. Those eyes…
“Daewen,” He whispered making a chill go down her spine. “Daewen.” He repeated that name two more times and the water around her started to boil. She pulled her legs out and backed away but one glance down and her hands started to burn. She gasped and looked up at him again but he was gone. Or maybe he was never there to begin with and this was just another memory. But no, the burning sensation was real and her marks grew darker and more accentuated than before.
Mistril decided to keep that as a secret. Nobody could understand it anyway so it was better to keep it all to herself for now. The last day was silent and eventless which let her think freely about what happened. Glorfindel glanced at her every now and then but it was difficult to get a picture of what was going through her mind.
Getting closer to the gates of Rivendell, she started to feel nervous. She woke up in Greenwood and her friendship with Legolas kept her there but now she wasn’t so sure. She was awake as Asfaloth slowed down his pace and eventually stopped. Three men were waiting for them, all dressed in elegant robes with dark long hair that reached their mid back and quite intimidating in expressions.
Sensing her anxiety, Glorfindel reached out to help her get off the horse. She didn’t even notice when he did so but then again, her eyes were locked on the elves. Very slowly, she used Glorfindel’s help and decided to keep her hands alongside her body at all costs. The elf standing in the middle smiled softly and waited for the two to reach him.
“I’m glad to welcome you to Rivendell, Lady Mistril. It’s my pleasure to have another Gondolindrim pass my threshold.” He said in a low yet very comforting tone of voice.
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