Daughter Of Lórien || Book 1||

Ch 35 ~ Lingering Days

I awake at noon, the sun peeking through the heavy drapes that cover my window. Even inside my rooms, I can hear the hustle and buzz of servants and others alike bustling around in a mad rush to prepare everything for the upcoming feast.

The Mereth Nuin Giliath was said to be one of the most beautiful nights of the year. With wine, dancing, and song, the Silvan's never failed to host a memorable celebration. Tales of their annual revalry always reached Rivendell, most often on the lips of Elladan and Elrohir who'd attend every few decades. Their stories enchanted me, but no matter how many times I had begged to go with them, they'd never conceded. That is, not until this year, when a little extra convincing pushed both them and my father to finally agree.

It was a shame I wouldn't be able to enjoy it.

Arwen's letter has haunted me for a week now. It hung in the back of my mind in everything I did. Not that I did much anymore. I barely left my rooms, spending most of my day reading a couple of books I'd snuck out of the library and having Varissë bring me my meals. I had no desire to go out to the training grounds to practice, nor did I want to risk running into anyone there.

It was quite easy to shut out the world from in here. No one has come looking for me; whether they have come to the decision to give me some space by their own judgment or have been turned away by Varissë's gentle command.

Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I stretch and reach for the robe hanging at the side of my bed, draping it across my shoulders.

I walk over to the window and throwing open the curtains, bask in the warm midday sunlight, twisting my long golden hair into a knot at the base of my head.

A steaming cup of tea sits by the windowsill, along with the rest of the breakfast Varissë has already brought up.

Although the breakfast Varissë brings me each morning never varies, I implore her to surprise me with a different flavored tea as often as she can find one. Today is one of those days. The liquid in my teacup is of an unfamiliar faint mauve color. Choosing only the tea from the breakfast platter, I cross into the common room outside my bedroom, the sound of my bare feet silent against the wooden floorboards. The drapes along the walls have already been thrown open, sunlight streaming in, lighting the entire room with its warm glow.

Settling down in an armchair by one of the windows, I take a tentative sip of my tea. The bright taste of lavender meets my tongue. My eyes widen. I've never tasted lavender in a tea before.

I'd usually find it among the other various herbs and spices I use to mix healing tonics and salves. My mother would often scold me for harvesting clippings of it from her garden to use in my healing practices.

The memory brings a fond smile to my face. Nana was incredibly gentle with the flora she tended to and could be fiercely protective of it. She once made Elrohir study the oh-so-intriguing topic of how to properly sow snowdrops for a whole week because he fell and trampled the ones in her garden. By the end of that week, he knew just about everything there was to know about the plant and spent the following week putting that knowledge to good use under Nana's watchful eye.

Of course, I had been the one that had pushed him into the flowers in the first place. Not that Nana believed him when he blamed me. He'd pulled the same excuse the week before when he had "accidently" broken her favorite flowerpot. That one was definitely not my fault. He and I were sparring in the courtyard and the idiot tripped over his own two feet and ran his sword right through it.

I laugh at the memory but a pang of sadness turns it bitter.

I can't help but wonder if I'll ever be able to make more of those memories with her or if I would soon only have these past ones to treasure.