Mercyside

Laughter rang throughout the training grounds, a sound that was generally uncommon among the many Elven warriors of Rivendell. The hum of merriment had only just begun to occur frequently, being as Lord Elrond’s youngest daughter had taken up side with Glorfindel, one of Rivendell’s most powerful and noble warriors. Though he was typically a busy elf concerned with personally training the men of his charge, as any great leader would do, Glorfindel enjoyed the company of the notably younger she-elf, A’mael. She was an unusual girl, showing a great interest and talent in strategy and battle. She was bold and unwavering, not shy like other girls her age.

Gorfindel’s men had nicknamed her Aria, which apparently meant ‘lioness’, for her presence alone was unsettling for them. Glorfindel’s men had heard the tales concerning Lady A’mael. They had heard of her being born with eyes as black as night, yet bright as stars, gleaming maliciously as she’d gazed around in curiosity; they had heard the tales of the younger princess of Rivendell passing by the lanterns at night, only for them to go cold, leaving a path of impenetrable darkness in her wake. Glorfindel had heard these rumors too; he’d asked her about them one evening when they’d taken a walk through the gardens, as they often did whenever he had more free time, and while she’d never clearly replied, she’d never denied them either.

Glorfindel did not care if those things were true, for he knew, that when his men were under the watchful gaze of Lady A’mael’s stunning blue eyes, they were nervous, and A’mael never hesitated in calling them out on any mistakes she spotted, and she saw them all. Glorfindel used this as an advantage to better train his soldiers, with the she-elf’s consent, of course, and so she watched them like a beast watched its prey. The laughter that sparked every so often was from this, an inside joke between the warrior and the princess, but the men surely just wrote it off as ridicule. Oh, how wrong they were.

“Lady A’mael?” Glorfindel and A’mael turned their heads hearing a quiet voice call for the elf maiden. The owner of the voice was quickly recognized as one of Lord Elrond’s advisers, one the A’mael did not care for.

“Yes,” The princess answered. Her voice was soft and light, betraying everything Glorfindel knew his young friend to be. A’mael was fierce and she was blunt; that was why his men had given her a nickname in the first place; they felt A’mael, beloved, was too peaceful a name for her. Glorfindel, like the girl’s adoptive father, refused to call her by her nickname, much to her dismay. She quite liked the name Aria.

“Your father wishes to see you.” A’mael sighed, getting up from her seat on the ground near Glorfindel and the group of swordsmen he worked with.

”What does he want now,” the dark haired elf maiden grumbled disdainfully, just loud enough for Glorfindel to hear. He merely chuckled quietly at his friend’s annoyance. A’mael sent a pointed glare in the blonde elf’s direction, but there was a glittering mischief in her eyes.

“Do you wish for me to escort you to him,” the other elf asked. It seemed that A’mael was paying him absolutely no mind.

“That won’t be needed,” Glorfindel spoke. “We are finished for today.”

There was an audible breath of relief from the men and A’mael nearly laughed at the look of disappointment upon the advisors face. It was no secret that the advisor, whose name she could never remember, fancied A’mael, but he thought her as terrifying as he did beautiful, so she didn’t care much for him. He was far too timid and she would much rather spend her time with Glorfindel, even if that made the chatty, gossiping elves think that Lady A’mael and Glordindel were somehow ‘together.’ Now that truly was a laughable thought. She cared for Glorfindel, and he, for her, but they were only friends and A’mael valued that friendship dearly, for she didn’t have many.

“Very well,” the advisor replied, his voice falling to a quiet, annoyed mumble. A’mael bit her lip to keep from laughing as she sent Glorfindel a look that made even the battle hardened elf nearly grin as well. The men he’d been training dispersed and so did the advisor; it was only then that A’mael spoke up, thanking her friend. He offered his arm for her and she accepted with a smile and the two began to make their way to the heart of Rivendell where Lord Elrond surely waited.

“I can’t imagine what he wants now,” A’mael spoke, breaking the calming silence between her and her friend as she gazed at her surroundings, all bathed in the golden light of the sun above.

”Surely it can’t be too bad,” Glorfindel offered. A’mael sent him a look of disbelief.

“The Spring Equinox feast and party are coming up in a few days,” she reminded him. “He probably wants me to go.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Glorfindel questioned.

“I hate social gatherings,” A’mael answered sharply. Glorfindel chuckled.

“You can not be their outcast forever, my lady. You are a princess of Rivendell, you are expected to attend.”

“I am not a princess of Rivendell by blood, and they know it. I do not deem myself as an outcast, I am a recluse. They are the ones who’ve turned me into their outcast,” A’mael explained with a bitter tongue. “Expected, though I may be, I am not welcome,” she continued, practically spitting out the words. She spoke the truth; the elves of Rivendell looked down upon her, for they knew she was different from them, and greatly so. Many believed her to be some wicked shadow from the east for her… unusual qualities, but she had been born in Rivendell, and had never gone anywhere else.

A’mael knew not why the dark shadows of night were drawn to her, they just were. It was true, she could pass by flame of the hottest rage and her very presence would make it go out. This was one of the reasons she preferred solitude and longed to be on the borders of the city, as Glorfindel and his men often were, but she was not allowed to go beyond the river by herself, for the light had not yet driven out the rise of evil that her people had fought against in the War of the Last Alliance, merely four hundred or so years ago, maybe even more. Maybe by now it had been even five hundred years? She didn’t know, nor did she really care; A’mael feared it would never be gone, and so she would never be able to leave on her own.

Even the animals feared her; horses reared up when she neared them and even the more tame animals of the forest, such as deer would run from her when she offered them food, even if they appeared to be starving. Not everyone of her kind possessed this gift, she certainly didn’t, but at least, the animals would go near others. They would not for her; one glance and the creatures would flee as though she was their death in human form.

The only animals she’d found that did not fear her were her horse Lothoria and the horse Lithordir, who was Lothoria’s brother. He belonged to an elf named Haalidor, an elf she considered to be a friend though she did not know him well. According to Glorfindel, he was a noble and kind elf, and he had shown himself to be so to A’mael during the few, short times she had spoken with him. She wondered, though, if that was due to the fact that she was Lord Elrond’s daughter. She certainly hoped not, for he was very kind and she felt more welcomed by him than most people.

“Hiril nin?” Glorfindel’s quiet voice cut through her thoughts like a sword through flesh whenever he addressed her in Elvish.

“Yes,” she asked, turning to him.

“What troubles you?”

“Nothing,” was her blunt reply. It came too quickly, and Glorfindel knew she was not telling him the truth, however, he didn’t press her further. She never had been one for letting her thoughts be known. “I’m just thinking,” she added quietly as she and her companion made their way up the stone carved steps, bathed too, in golden light. At the top, the Lord of Rivendell was waiting for his adoptive daughter.