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She might feel more defensive if she ever held any notion that Celegorm may have held her in esteem, or if she cared if he did, but she was not quite that naive and so his scoff merely makes her brow rise just slightly before she forces her face to settle on a more neutral expression.
Perhaps the bird still understood a danger she did not entirely grasp, for though in the distance she saw a dart of red and heard another soft song it did not come with her like it had all of yesterday and the morning, as if waiting for her to play chase with it. It did not seem to wait as it had the last month on the edge of the forest, daring her to come out of her homeland and taste the wide world for the first time since before the girdle was made. Instead, it flitted away out of even elvish sight with one last call, perhaps a farewell.
Laeduilin, she repeated in her mind, wishing to add it to her sketches tucked away in her satchel but sensing now was not the time and place with his gaze so firmly upon her.
'Thank you, once more, for saving me and for sharing the name of my fleeting friend.' for she would not stop trying to befriend them, it was against her nature to not want to know all that she could of the world. Perhaps he would take her thanks to heart this time and know she was not one to lie or mock. She had never lived in a world where these skills were needed.
Looking again at the ground, at the hounds, the horse and his lord-master Mithiel decided then that if she did not go down of her own accord he may grow tired and force her to the ground by one means or another so at last she jumped off the branch and landed effortlessly in the circle of hounds. Immediately, Mithiel missed the extra height. She was tall enough compared to some but for an elf she had always felt small, and now smaller still on the ground with no excuse to climb the tree again or otherwise flee from all the eyes set upon her.
'I am Mithiel,' she says, at last, not asking him his name both because she was sure she knew it, and that if he had wanted to offer it he likely would have already. 'In case you wish to tell of the foolish woman who would go alone to speak to strange creatures, as if the world were safe, who you saved from herself on your hunt.'
Not only their languages had he learnt, once upon and in a grander house, but as well of the movements of birds and beasts. They spoke more than words, even, than pleasant songs. If Mithiel told of the things she guess the bird with thought of her he would scoff once more. What had come to her as a call to venture Celegorm heard only as one whistling as it made its own way. Careless and free and quickly now forgetting danger as it went further away.
In Elvenhome he had also lived such days.
From craning his neck up, he followed as she jumped down. Whether she came this way or not until he went, their talk of birds then seemed at an end. Surely Celegorm was taller and by much, even if he dismounted his horse, and perhaps looked even prouder in the face when looking up. Not less, at least, when at her guess he simply said, ❛ I do not wish to. ❜
And tinged by something sinister his answer may have been, when he did now not command his hounds, all with glowing eyes and sharp white teeth (and the great, dead wolf between them) to move still away. But Huan went, without word from Celegorm it seemed, and like a Captain took two others of the pack. But Celegorm took her thanks this time. ❛ Would ye, in Doriath, tell of this meet? ❜ Then, he guessed, she would like his name.
If ever she had the chance she was going to thank that hound, for while his master looked down upon her and seemed to care not that she was surrounded by hounds who were only a little less frightening than their fell counterparts, it was the hound who called his friends back away from her and for the first time since she had run she managed to take a real breath.
It did not help Mithiel with the son of Fëanor who looked down upon her from his mighty steed, but it meant she had only one place to look instead of several as she tried to take the measure of not just what he had said but how he had said it. For from a more friendly source that might have meant I would not wish to embarrass you, but it sounds different from his tongue to her ears in a way that renews the deeply unsettled feeling she had about her when most of her vision was crowded by white teeth and bright eyes.
Even what he asked her made her skin crawl, uncertain if the better answer was yay or nay and wishing she could ask him plainly without causing some further offence.
'That I was saved by a great and mighty hunter?' she said, 'it is a good story of a valiant deed.' so, yes, maybe, when the sting of fear wore off.
If she knew his name then she could well guess at the flightiness of his moods... and if she had not yet understood it otherwise. She was, at that, more right than not that Celegorm cared not to shield her or her name from embarrassment, nor himself to be cloaked in valour; regarding lonely hunts at least.
Yet his brother's words, and though Curufin was not with him, he knew full well. More crafty in thinking of the talk that might follow or the deeds that may benefit them was he. Such luck, perhaps, the she had not his talk also to spar with. These thoughts of his would not be read, but Celegorm had not done any ill on her nor would, no matter that Mithiel stood as a spooked doe in the circle.
For a good moment now silence had laid over the round. Then, as he spoke, she would find his tone different from before. Not so removed and not so over-lordly as he sat in the saddle.
❛ Then, if and when, name in some valour Celegorm of Nargothrond. ❜ To Thingol, he thought but surely said not.
It is by force of will alone that Mithiel keeps her expression from saying the I know that her lips would never dare speak in a circumstance such as she found herself in now. Still, he might catch a small glint of knowing in her eyes before she ducks her head in a very small bow.
'Lord Celegorm,' she said with as much respect and warmth as she had within her to manage, which for one of her people was a surprising amount. There was little love between the Sindar and the Noldor in these days. 'I will be sure to always recount the tale truly,' if she told anyone at all. Her parents would be beside themselves if they knew what she had done - and worse, she didn't know if it was the wolves for the son of Fëanor who would set their hearts to thundering more.
She could only count her blessings that he did not have his brothers with him, she may well have taken her chance with running if their numbers were greater.
Her eyes fixated on her arrow still stuck in the wolf's flank, and then she stepped forward to pull it free, the noise and the new stream of steadily cooling blood making her nose flare in disgust but she quickly cleaned it on a rag from her pocket and put it away with the others.
'I would not keep you from home or further hunting, whichever way you are headed, my lord.'
𝕴ndeed he searched for some part of it on her face, feigned unknowing or burked hostility, and seemed to come away with something. Over all Celegorm cared little for the valour he had asked and least for Thingol's nicety if it were to be only in lame speech.
And what would the sons of Fëanor have done to a Sinda, who held neither some power to her name nor even one of the Silmarils?
Celegorm would have returned to his hunt as well. These pelts, even if they came off the backs of Sauron's creatures, needed not be left to waste into the earth of the land. But Huan had not yet returned. So, he did not give way though Mithiel bid him take his leave and surely that seemed no less oppressive in her eyes than what their talk had been so far.
❛ Ye may not, squandering any valour I would have done. ❜ Yet, more than to reminder her of her little power, this time he explained. ❛ For if another stray wolf came upon you how might ye defend yourself? ❜
He was not wrong. There could be more wolves. There could be so many beyond some distant hill that the world writhed black and thick with them and she would never know of it unless she came across them or some messenger warned her off. Yet, even though he had no need or motive to do her harm, was he not a wolf as well of a different sort?
She turned over the bloodied cloth in her hands, not looking at it but unable to escape the metallic stench that emanated from it. She wasn't looking at Celegorm either, but instead at his horse. It was easier to think if she focused only on his animals, the steady heartbeat, the soft puff of breath. The way its long tail flicked and ears twitched, listening to both of them. Even the hounds at least had clear motives when they looked like they might eat her. Mithiel could not say the same for their master.
There were only a few moments between his question and her reply but it seemed, to her, to draw on forever.
'The trees have long been my friends, and I am not unarmed, my Lord. It is a day and a half's walk home.' It could be fine, or there could be wolves, or orcs, or other goblins and twisted things. There could even be folk with malicious intent. She had never in her life been this far north and could not hope to guess but she did trust in fate at least for the most part. 'I would not ask you to delay your hunt so long.' For the elves, it was almost nothing in time but his prey would move or hide or make trouble.
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Perhaps the bird still understood a danger she did not entirely grasp, for though in the distance she saw a dart of red and heard another soft song it did not come with her like it had all of yesterday and the morning, as if waiting for her to play chase with it. It did not seem to wait as it had the last month on the edge of the forest, daring her to come out of her homeland and taste the wide world for the first time since before the girdle was made. Instead, it flitted away out of even elvish sight with one last call, perhaps a farewell.
Laeduilin, she repeated in her mind, wishing to add it to her sketches tucked away in her satchel but sensing now was not the time and place with his gaze so firmly upon her.
'Thank you, once more, for saving me and for sharing the name of my fleeting friend.' for she would not stop trying to befriend them, it was against her nature to not want to know all that she could of the world. Perhaps he would take her thanks to heart this time and know she was not one to lie or mock. She had never lived in a world where these skills were needed.
Looking again at the ground, at the hounds, the horse and his lord-master Mithiel decided then that if she did not go down of her own accord he may grow tired and force her to the ground by one means or another so at last she jumped off the branch and landed effortlessly in the circle of hounds. Immediately, Mithiel missed the extra height. She was tall enough compared to some but for an elf she had always felt small, and now smaller still on the ground with no excuse to climb the tree again or otherwise flee from all the eyes set upon her.
'I am Mithiel,' she says, at last, not asking him his name both because she was sure she knew it, and that if he had wanted to offer it he likely would have already. 'In case you wish to tell of the foolish woman who would go alone to speak to strange creatures, as if the world were safe, who you saved from herself on your hunt.'
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In Elvenhome he had also lived such days.
From craning his neck up, he followed as she jumped down. Whether she came this way or not until he went, their talk of birds then seemed at an end. Surely Celegorm was taller and by much, even if he dismounted his horse, and perhaps looked even prouder in the face when looking up. Not less, at least, when at her guess he simply said, ❛ I do not wish to. ❜
And tinged by something sinister his answer may have been, when he did now not command his hounds, all with glowing eyes and sharp white teeth (and the great, dead wolf between them) to move still away. But Huan went, without word from Celegorm it seemed, and like a Captain took two others of the pack. But Celegorm took her thanks this time. ❛ Would ye, in Doriath, tell of this meet? ❜ Then, he guessed, she would like his name.
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It did not help Mithiel with the son of Fëanor who looked down upon her from his mighty steed, but it meant she had only one place to look instead of several as she tried to take the measure of not just what he had said but how he had said it. For from a more friendly source that might have meant I would not wish to embarrass you, but it sounds different from his tongue to her ears in a way that renews the deeply unsettled feeling she had about her when most of her vision was crowded by white teeth and bright eyes.
Even what he asked her made her skin crawl, uncertain if the better answer was yay or nay and wishing she could ask him plainly without causing some further offence.
'That I was saved by a great and mighty hunter?' she said, 'it is a good story of a valiant deed.' so, yes, maybe, when the sting of fear wore off.
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Yet his brother's words, and though Curufin was not with him, he knew full well. More crafty in thinking of the talk that might follow or the deeds that may benefit them was he. Such luck, perhaps, the she had not his talk also to spar with. These thoughts of his would not be read, but Celegorm had not done any ill on her nor would, no matter that Mithiel stood as a spooked doe in the circle.
For a good moment now silence had laid over the round. Then, as he spoke, she would find his tone different from before. Not so removed and not so over-lordly as he sat in the saddle.
❛ Then, if and when, name in some valour Celegorm of Nargothrond. ❜ To Thingol, he thought but surely said not.
no subject
'Lord Celegorm,' she said with as much respect and warmth as she had within her to manage, which for one of her people was a surprising amount. There was little love between the Sindar and the Noldor in these days. 'I will be sure to always recount the tale truly,' if she told anyone at all. Her parents would be beside themselves if they knew what she had done - and worse, she didn't know if it was the wolves for the son of Fëanor who would set their hearts to thundering more.
She could only count her blessings that he did not have his brothers with him, she may well have taken her chance with running if their numbers were greater.
Her eyes fixated on her arrow still stuck in the wolf's flank, and then she stepped forward to pull it free, the noise and the new stream of steadily cooling blood making her nose flare in disgust but she quickly cleaned it on a rag from her pocket and put it away with the others.
'I would not keep you from home or further hunting, whichever way you are headed, my lord.'
no subject
And what would the sons of Fëanor have done to a Sinda, who held neither some power to her name nor even one of the Silmarils?
Celegorm would have returned to his hunt as well. These pelts, even if they came off the backs of Sauron's creatures, needed not be left to waste into the earth of the land. But Huan had not yet returned. So, he did not give way though Mithiel bid him take his leave and surely that seemed no less oppressive in her eyes than what their talk had been so far.
❛ Ye may not, squandering any valour I would have done. ❜ Yet, more than to reminder her of her little power, this time he explained. ❛ For if another stray wolf came upon you how might ye defend yourself? ❜
no subject
She turned over the bloodied cloth in her hands, not looking at it but unable to escape the metallic stench that emanated from it. She wasn't looking at Celegorm either, but instead at his horse. It was easier to think if she focused only on his animals, the steady heartbeat, the soft puff of breath. The way its long tail flicked and ears twitched, listening to both of them. Even the hounds at least had clear motives when they looked like they might eat her. Mithiel could not say the same for their master.
There were only a few moments between his question and her reply but it seemed, to her, to draw on forever.
'The trees have long been my friends, and I am not unarmed, my Lord. It is a day and a half's walk home.' It could be fine, or there could be wolves, or orcs, or other goblins and twisted things. There could even be folk with malicious intent. She had never in her life been this far north and could not hope to guess but she did trust in fate at least for the most part. 'I would not ask you to delay your hunt so long.' For the elves, it was almost nothing in time but his prey would move or hide or make trouble.