Days passed, slower it seemed. Mistril was free to do whatever she wanted and nobody really looked twice at her wrists. Glancing at them, she thought about her discussion with Elrond.
It happened late at night when he found her in the same spot she was in now, a place on the balcony where she could see every tree in Rivendell. Mistril raised her eyes to the moon and pondered on her memories, especially the recent one. The chains were cold on her bruised skin and there was blood everywhere. And then, in just half a moment, she was free and the filth around her was dead. There was no pain and no remorse; just anger and repulsion.
"Are you thinking about your past?" Lord Elrond asked, approaching her slowly.
Mistril turned to him and moved a bit so he could sit next to her. He seemed serene in the light like a man sent by the Valar. If only he could have come to her earlier.
"I can't help it. I try not to but every time I close my eyes, I find myself in that place."
"Do you know where that is?" He asked softly. It was clear he understood it was a sensitive subject for her.
"An orcish cave," Mistril replied, fidgeting unconsciously. His eyes were staring into hers but she could feel his interest in more than just her memories. "It was not by them that I was bound but by someone else." She added knowing already what he wanted to know.
"Are you afraid?"
"No. Is that wrong of me?" She asked knowing it was odd. "Should I cover them? It won't be long until Lindir sees them too, or your sons."
"Those bindings are part of you. Even if you hide them, they won't disappear. But if you want to hide them, you are free to do so." He said before he got up and got ready to leave.
"Wait- what am I to do while living here? As work, I mean."
"Anything you want." He said, "You can finally fight and travel alongside your hero."
Mistril blinked in confusion. He was referring to Glorfindel, whom he probably spoke carefully about her, but things changed so much from the happy times of her youth.
And so she ended up in the same place, only by day. She didn't have anything to do so she just laid back and enjoyed the air. Trees were humming to themselves and birds were talking to each other lively. Food was being cooked and swords were being forged. Horses were neighing in the stables, Asfaloth making greater noise than the rest. Then a slow paced yet beautiful song reached her ears and she nodded along. The sound of a harp was melancholic especially here in this place that seemed to feel like home. And yet something was missing.
A few hours later Mistril visited Lindir and tagged along in his business, which was not much. He was a gentle elf much like Gweluven but Lindir was younger and more genuine than the former. His long hair was down to his chest, dark and shiny. He'd move it with long elegant fingers every time it fell into his eyes while writing something. He was medium in height and very thin in frame as if he'd be slain with ease by a mere child. But his robes were made of soft colorful fabrics and he smelled like fresh flowers.
"Why are you smiling?" Lindir asked although he didn't look away from his paper.
"You're so young." She said boldly. Lindir chuckled to himself as he continued to write. "Do you have a lover already?" She added.
A sudden flush went up his neck and into his cheeks. He wasn't exactly blushing but he was embarrassed. Mistril's eyes glinted with bemusement as she leaned back in her chair and bit her lip.
"You do, don't you?"
"That is not a matter I'd like to discuss with someone I just met." He said trying to sound firmer than he was.
Mistril hummed and decided to let it go. Her eyes wandered around the office and she saw more paper lying there innocently. She grabbed a pen and in lack of anything else, she started to draw Lindir.
He knew she finally got busy with something else because she became silent. The elleth was breathing heavily alongside the soft grazes of the pen over the paper. Lindir looked up and went to check on her when he gasped.
"Is it that bad?" She asked not stopping until she had the shadows right.
"It's not bad at all, quite the opposite. Why didn't you tell me you could draw?" Lindir asked amazed by the drawing. It was him, standing in his chair writing.
"I never knew. Drawing was not on Gweluven's list so I never tried it. Can I borrow more paper?"
"Of course. Take whatever you want but let me keep this." He said grabbing the drawing from her quickly.
She remained there surprised while Lindir smiled to himself as he watched the drawing.
For the first weeks, Mistril did nothing but draw. It was calming and people seemed to like her works. Most of them were about Rivendell, Gondolin, her family and Glorfindel. She didn't draw anything dark because it wasn't something she wanted to remember vividly. Instead, she continued to draw Greenwood, Legolas with a sword or a bow, wood elves as she saw them and even a far away view of Dol Guldur.
If anyone wanted to find her, she was either on the balcony or in the Hall of Fire, where she also liked to spend time brooding. Nobody knew what she was thinking of and nobody asked.
"You're growing incredibly good at it." Glorfindel said as he came and sat beside her. "What else are you working on right now?"
"Nothing." She said quickly but Glorfindel wasn't convinced so he pulled it out of her grasp. "Don't look!"
"Is it me again?" He asked jokingly and turned around so she wouldn't reach it.
One glance and Glorfindel knew who that was even if it didn't have a face yet. He sighed and let her have it back. She seemed embarrassed but didn't put it in the file with the others.
"Don't say a word." She mumbled grumpily.
"Even without a face, it's quite obvious who that is."
"Maybe or maybe not," She added, "As long as he doesn't see it, it's fine."
Glorfindel watched Mistril carefully. She was fond of a person that she couldn't see but one she could only create an image by herself. That tall form dressed in golden robes, with white hair falling on his back, standing straight and highly could have been anyone. But the crown gave identity to him.
"How did Thranduil really act around you? He is extremely suspicious of what is found in his forest."
"He was doubtful. I think he still believes I came from the Enemy." She said, annoyance sipping through the words. "Which might as well be correct."
"But it wasn't so bad, was it? Because I see longing in your eyes. You miss them."
"I do. But it's still too early to say if it's because I got used to their presence or I genuinely miss them because I care."
"You miss him." Glorfindel said watching her reactions carefully.
"I miss Legolas, yes. He used to brighten my view over the world." She mumbled grumpily.
"Of course. Legolas." Glorfindel muttered as he watched her grab her file and walk towards her room.
100 years in Rivendell passed differently and with fewer reasons to get angry. Nothing dark reached it and Glorfindel assured her that it will never do because of Elrond. And then a guest arrived, one that looked like a merchant but was a lot more than that.
"Mithrandir! Such a pleasure to see you but I remember whenever you do visit, it's not always good news that you bring." Glorfindel welcomed him.
But Mithrandir didn't seem bothered. He looked up from under his big hat with playfulness. His eyes were sparkling with something Mistril never figured out.
"I'm afraid this is not an exception, old friend." Mithrandir answered. "I heard you have found another to guard and protect while I was away." He added growing a bit dark in looks. "One who returned from the dead."
"Who told you that? Was it a bird or was it a guard?" Glorfindel asked with suspicion.
"Not important now. I will talk about it later. Now, let's drink and eat because I am famished."
It was late in the evening when Mistril wandered down the halls. She had seen it before, the murals about different important events that ended with either glory or, more often, with a lot of victims. She stopped in front of each of them and fell in deep melancholy as she understood what each meant but the most impressive mural was the one of the legendary down bringing of the Enemy. Isildur brings about the downfall of Sauron on the slopes of Orodruin, it said. Behind, on a stone platter held by a statue was a sword, or what was left of it. It was shattered in pieces but still sharp, still glowing with time and strength. She reached out to it but her eyes widened as she retracted her hand slowly, her head aching.
Elrond found her standing in the Hall of Fire, watching the yellowish flames dance together. She was thinking of something he could only guess. Just like Glorfindel, he noticed how guarded her mind was and how often her elvish light flickered. It wasn’t worrisome yet but it gave him reasons to wonder if maybe it was better to have her go meet Lady Galadriel.
“I made a friend in Greenwood, an archer called Tudor. He told me there was a monster amongst the orcs, one that could rival the Black Knights. He said you saw it.”
“I did. It slayed men with only one sway of its sword and it decapitated some of my most prized warriors. I could only catch a glimpse of it from afar but I know its eyes were bloodthirsty.” Elrond said, not telling her the whole truth.
“Did it die?”
“I don’t know. It was only seen in Dagorlad and nowhere else.” Elrond answered her sincerely before he asked in return, “Is it troubling you, that creature?”
“Did it have a name?”
“As far as I know, it was a diligent commander whose name was rarely spoken. But men named it the Shadow of Angmar because it was faithful to the Witch-king.”
Mistril sighed and hid her head in between her hands, remembering the flash of memories she had when she reached for the sword.
It was her, dressed in armor with a heavy helmet on her head, hiding everything but her eyes. She was standing behind the Witch-king, calm as if nothing important or life changing was about to begin. He made her a sign and she was supposed to go after the heads of each army, but something happened.
Now, thinking about everything she remembered in the last years, she could understand why Thranduil was so doubtful.
“These marks on my wrists, they were done by Sauron.” She muttered, raising her head enough to catch glimpses of the fire. “I should be rotting somewhere, shouldn’t I?”
Elrond could neither deny nor agree. It was clear to him from the beginning that something happened to her and darkness grasped her soul but he didn’t know how much and how deep Sauron’s manipulation reached inside her. He could see her light flicker once more and it needed a few minutes for it to regain its normal glow. Elrond stood there and watched, making sure her eyes won’t darken again.
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