“What is it?”
“She is not an ‘it’, Halmir, and she, if you are so blind not to notice, is an elf.” Thranduil pulled the frightened elleth closer to him as he walked through the corridor to the healer’s. After much coaxing, he had convinced the mysterious female to come with him, and now she seemed rather curious about everyone and everything they came across on their path.
Halmir frowned. “She is a little raggedy, isn’t she? I think she could use a bath.”
“Must you always be so opinionated?” snapped Thranduil. Halmir huffed and rolled his eyes.
“I hope she does not have fleas,” spoke a slightly older elf, though he, too, had only barely reached his majority.
“What a dreadful thing to say, Gildor!” admonished Finduilas, shoving her cousin into her laughing brother. Halmir, nearly knocked into the wall of the cave, shoved back, causing Finduilas to bump into Celeborn, the youngest and quietest of the group. He, unlike his friends, was still considered an elfling, and fell down partially due to his smaller size and partially due to the awkward adolescent stage he was in where one’s feet tend to trip oneself merely just because.
Thranduil paused and doubled back, still with his arm around the elleth’s waist. “Halmir, really.”
“She started it!” he said, pointing a finger at Finduilas in an accusing manner.
“She is also younger than you,” Thranduil reminded him as he helped Celeborn up from the ground.
Gildor snorted. “And it shows.”
“And you!” Thranduil left the elleth to stand between Celeborn and Finduilas. “What I ought to do is-“
“What is all this?” demanded a stern voice. The eyes of the entire group shot down the hallway where Erestor stood, looking none too pleased. “I certainly hope none of you were quarrelling,” he said, approaching slowly, mindful of the response the elleth had to him. Luckily, this was not noticed by the others, for all of them were cowering to varying degrees as he stopped amid the younger elves.
He did not need to ask what was going on to make a judgment. “Halmir, Gildor, go cause trouble elsewhere. Finduilas, Celeborn, come along with us.”
“Why do we not get to come see the freak?” asked Halmir as Erestor began to lead the rest down the hall. Even Gildor knew his friend had gone too far and stepped back against the wall as Erestor crossed back to where they stood in two paces.
“You are ever so lucky you are not my son,” Erestor snarled in a very low voice, “and you are ever so lucky I do not strike the children of others, but some days, Halmir...” His voice trailed off, his threat idle as always. Halmir smirked and pulled Gildor’s sleeve as the pair left in the opposite direction.
“You will not have to hit him,” Thranduil grumbled as they resumed their course. “One of these days-“
“No.” Erestor paused and held Thranduil still by his shoulder. “Do not let his words anger you, do not let them blacken your heart. You are a goodly sort, Thranduil, I do not wish to see you make the sort of mistake so many of our kin have. There is no reason to fight each other when greater forces exist that would see us tear one another apart so they themselves need not do the work.” Erestor shook his head. “That is not the issue. For now, avoid them, please,” appealed the elder elf. Thranduil nodded. “Thank you.” They continued to the hall where there healing rooms were located.
- - -
“She is well enough, physically,” explained Finduilas as she exited into the waiting area with the strange elleth. The healer had insisted that it was not proper to allow the males into the examination room, and so it was with deep regrets that Thranduil allowed his friend from the forest to be led back into the strange room with only Finduilas for comfort. As soon as she spied him, the elleth was back at Thranduil’s side once more. “The worry is that she is carrying some sort of psychological burden, but she doesn’t seem to be able to communicate. She was intimidated by many things, but simple things she tended to recognize. There is little doubt she was abandoned at a young age, but beyond that they do not know.”
Erestor wearily accepted the scroll one of the healers handed him and stood up. “The council is waiting for me; I shall return with news as soon as I have any. In the meantime, Thranduil, your father is aware of the situation. Take her to your dwelling, he is expecting you.”
“What about us?” questioned Finduilas as she and Celeborn both stood.
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Erestor said, “It is best you return home, the hour is late.” He left them then, worried and a bit out of sorts. Finduilas and Celeborn both bid Thranduil and the mystery elleth a good evening before leaving as well.
“A sad thing, that,” remarked Thranduil in a low and comforting voice as he motioned that they should leave. “Neither of them had a name to call you when they wished you a good night. They knew exactly what to call me, but what am I to do, give you a name? That seems quite presumptuous,” he said to her, despite the fact that he assumed she understood none of his words.
“I need to call you something, though,” he decided. As they walked, he pondered various names in his head, until one came to him and he smiled. “My parents said that if they ever had a girl, they wanted to name her Avisiel. Until I learn your true name, if you have one...” he realized sadly. He paused their walking down the corridor and led her to an unused bench in the hallway. “Avisiel,” he said to her. “What do you think of that? Yes? No?”
The elleth tilted her head in confusion, and Thranduil realized that this word, like all the others, held no meaning. He placed a hand on top of her head and repeated, “Avisiel,” to which the elleth reached out in confusion and put her palm on his head. “No, no,” he laughed, removing her hand. He tried again, pointing a finger at her. “Avisiel,” he said, but she reared back with wide eyes, and Thranduil retracted the offending digit. “Sorry, I am sorry!” he said, and berated himself. “Pointing is rude, one does not point at a lady,” he mumbled, shaking his head as the elleth slowly calmed down and watched him.
“Avisiel,” he tried once more, putting one hand on either shoulder, and seeing a glimmer of recognition in her eye, raised one hand and stroked the back of his fingers against her cheek, repeating the name. She made a contented noise, like a purr of a kitten, and realizing how inappropriate his action was, Thranduil quickly withdrew his hand and stood up. “Never mind, I am not making sense,” he said to himself, deciding they should move on before someone, like Halmir or Gildor, caught them alone in the hallway.
His right ear twitched slightly as he picked up on a small sound. A series of small sounds. Something she was trying to communicate to him. He crouched down to listen better, and took one of her hands in his. “I am sorry, what was that?”
Looking into his eyes, the slightest hint of worry in them, she said faintly, “Thranduil,” and put her free hand to his cheek.
Blinking in bewilderment for a few moments, he grasped her other hand as she began to withdraw it. “Yes!” he answered in an excited whisper, squeezing her hands. “Yes, Thranduil, I am Thranduil.” He let go of her hands to place his palms to his chest. “Thranduil,” he repeated, and then, instead of pointing he spread his hands out with his palms flat and fingers pointing toward her for her response.
She drew her hands to her breast, but then stopped with her mouth open and shook her head. Whether because she could not recall her own name or did not have one, Thranduil knew not, but when she pressed her fingers gently to his lips and waited expectantly, he said, “Avisiel.”
“Avisiel,” she repeated, and Thranduil nodded emphatically.
“Yes! Avisiel,” he said happily, and for the first time, she smiled. Thranduil’s eyes widened for a moment as, for the first time, he realized she was not just an elleth, and not just a lady. She was a beautiful, vibrant, and from what he could tell, intelligent young lady. Or, at least, that was as far as he got before he kissed her.
“Thranduil!”
The young elf was startled into landing on his rear on the floor from the stooped position he had been in. Swallowing hard, he looked over his shoulder to see his father looking down at him with a great deal of amusement.
“Dinner is getting cold,” he informed his son, and then looked at the elleth and bowed. “It is an honor to meet you...” his gaze drifted down to his son.
“Avisiel,” answered Thranduil, meekly picking himself up off of the floor.
“An honor, Avisiel.” Oropher squeezed Thranduil’s shoulder. “Your mother and I will be waiting.”
“Yes, Ada,” he responded as his father walked away.
“That was most embarrassing,” he mumbled as he offered Avisiel his arm.
As if sensing his sudden discomfort, Avisiel petted Thranduil’s head. He gave a bit of an undignified snort as they walked to the door to Oropher’s home. Frowning, Avisiel waited until they had entered the greeting room and closed the door, and then she stepped close to Thranduil and awkwardly kissed him back. Oropher, sitting in a chair and pretending to read, barely looked up at the pair, with a look of mock disapproval.
“She kissed me this time!” blurted out Thranduil, though to his credit, he was not blushing.
Oropher chuckled and set his book down on the table beside his chair. “Come, the dinner is getting cold.”
