Your Hands Are Cold

Mourning

I followed the path that was covered in fallen leaves. It seemed hours before I reached the town, and as usual, I was met with a calming silence as the common elves like me remained in their homes through the night. I missed the sight of the town and its quietness during the night, apart from the sounds of rustling leaves and whispering winds.

I thought I should make a quick stop to my home before I leave to go to my intended destination, but I assumed that would take too much time and the palace guards would start suspecting. I hoped Maerwen and Faelwen are doing well in keeping this a secret.

I passed through the streets of Mirkwood. I looked down, and let the hood of the cloak hide the features of my face. It was already the evening, and it had almost reached nighttime, so I hoped the darkness would hide my identity well. I also hoped I would not run into old friends as I walked.

When I finally reached my destination, I breathed a long, heavy sigh.

The burial place for Sindarin elves was a place of death and tranquility. But then again, death, as stated my grandfather once, is tranquility. Various flowers took its roots on the forest floor. I started walking towards my grandfather’s coffin, which stood near a large tree. The flowers have not withered yet, fortunately, and it was a sign my grandfather was still happy indeed. I leaned closer to his grave, and a single tear fell from my cheeks and into the ground.

I remembered how I thought of how I was so sure that I was going to struggle with no more relatives around, and how utterly lonely I was going to be the next few years after my grandfather’s death. But after the meeting with Legolas, perhaps it was wrong to believe your mind’s own predictions of your future. I had not seen Thranduil for days, and it’s likely that he will be out looking for me, but then again he would not be able to, for if he did, the palace staff would start to suspect something between us and we’ve made it clear that we wanted to avoid that.

I cleared my mind of thoughts of Thranduil, Maerwen and Faelwen, and the possibility of me being caught and instead spoke a few Elvish passages that was supposed to grant peace and tranquility to elves after their death, while my hand caressed the grey and white stone of the coffin. An almost forgotten memory of my parents and my grandfather suddenly appeared in my mind.

I remembered that it had been a long morning, and at the time I was still a young elf. I was lying on my bed as my fingers clutched the blankets and cocooned myself in them. My mind was a blur, and I was unable to speak or see clearly. The illness that had taken place in my body was worsening, as I began to cough up red pools of blood.

My grandfather rushed in the room and in his hands was a small box of various herbs and medicines I was still unaware of at that time. The atmosphere was now a mixture of the sharp smell of blood and the strange aromas my grandfather’s medicine had.

He brought a small bottle filled with medicine to my lips, and let it seep into my open mouth. When I noticed that there was an uncanny taste in my mouth, my body immediately jolted out off it weakening condition. My grandfather reassured me that all was going to be fine and the medicine was going to help me, so I blindly obeyed him and drank the strange medicine.

My mother and father also entered the room, and both of them were confused as to what was going on. My mother replaced the blanket stained with blood with a cleaner one, and then caressed my hair, trying to soothe me with her soft words. My father, being the expert healer, aided my grandfather in taking care of my illness. The next few days I spent under my blankets as my grandfather sat beside me, read me tales of mighty Elven kings, and told me of King Thranduil, his wife who possessed the greatest beauty in all of Mirkwood and their young son, Prince Legolas. My grandfather even joked of how I was to move into the palace and marry Legolas and become queen of all Mirkwood.

I had not known that it the moving part was to become a reality, except the part with Prince Legolas. (And the queen part too, hopefully).

That memory was one of the fondest memories I had of my grandfather and my parents, but it was also the one of the few memories I had of them.

I quickly stood up and took two pink flowers from the ground to give to Maerwen and Faelwen as a gift when I return, and turned around to head back to the palace as I intended to.

“Didn’t I tell you not leave the palace without permission?” Thranduil spoke.