Nienna

NIENNA

(See Prologue for standard disclaimer/author notes)


Chapter 1

Announcements, Preparations and Arrivals...

Normally, I would have retired to my quarters after dining with my father and his most trusted friend and second charge, Rana, but on this eve, they were discussing the arrival of elven kin from a mainland realm; a great, misty forest called Lothlorien. Anticipation filled me in a way that I could not yet understand; we were to receive visitors from beyond the tall mountain peaks lacing the distant shore. With high reverence and honor, my father spoke of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel of Caras Galadhon, the city of Galadhrim. I could clearly see an excitement I had never been privy to, gleaming on his typical stoic semblance.

Later that night with stars in my eyes, I made my way to my quarters in the royal apartments on the eastern wing of the palace. In a fortnight's time they would arrive on the docks of our fair city - carried here by our own grand ship The Ardana, named in honor of my later mother. Preparations would begin as early as tomorrow for the impending visit. Per my father's edict, they would receive the greatest fanfare known to Cirana. There was a flurry of activity around me, as word spread throughout the white citadel of the distinguished visitors coming from far away.

By the end of the week, father ordered menus to be drawn by our finest cooks and servers, and presented to him for his final approval. That morning couriers were sent to each home, inviting and encouraging participation ie wee welcoming of the Lord and his Lady. Father even began the task of preparing itineraries for competitions and activities between the two realms - game hunting, archery and sword challenges, along with lunches in the palace courtyard and sumptuous nightly dinners of our native delicacies and finest island wines.

At the urging of Lady Valkana, a bawdy strumpet, whom I suspect to share more than just her wits with my father, special entertainment has been set aside in honor of our esteemed guests - activities to conform more to the liking of the ladies of the court. So, to my chagrin, per the king's royal pronouncement, there is to be a host of music and dancing in the main hall each night following dinner, and a grandiose masque ball on rising of the first full moon, with a finale of fireworks from aboard The Ardana.

Despite my aloofness and unsociable disposition, my insides quiver with excitement. Long have I desired to glimpse the outside world from my secluded isle, hoping to sate the wanderlust that bores den myn my soul. Maybe I could befriend a member of my visiting kin long enough to discover more about the world beyond that of which I tread? Will they tell me what it is like to stand in a tall, majestic forest, like that of Lothlorien?

As I at last lay my head down to take leave for the night, I am unable push these most tenacious longings from my mind. Instantly my thoughts are drawn to my mother's wishing well, and what it is that I crave most...
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I am told nothing catches hold of your senses like the smell of fresh sea air, but that, I do not know beyond certainty... Yet, as I walk along the shore, my feet gliding gracefully across the sand, leaving no sign of my wake, the water's tangy scent fills my head, the wind caresses my hair, and thunderous waves invade my ears. Even my skin feels affected... tingling and vastly alive - the fine hairs on my arms standing on end, as if charged by surges of molten energy from the heavens above. Unawares, I shudder and draw a deep breath, a smile spreading across my face as I at last concede with some sort of odd felt satisfaction. Yes, I suppose nothing does catch your senses like the fresh sea air...

Picking my skirts up, I leisurely make my way to the water's edge, when I am suddenly interrupted from my usual reverie. Through the thick foliage, bearing the beach from the forest, a hunting party appears on horseback, trotting toward me and against the setting sun. I place my hand over my brow to shield my eyes from the bright reflection against the sea's surface, and for a moment I am only able to make out the silhouette of each as they draw nearer. Slowly, faces become apparent, many members of the entourage I immediately recognize to be my father, first and forefront, accompanied by Rana, to his right. Behind them in a single line, are Cirana's nobility and my father's advisors, along with its' most highly decorated warriors, all dashingly attired in a sea of vibrant blues and silvers.

To father's left, rides another commander. A tall, regal elf in celestial creams; his silver hair glinting againhe she sun's rays, casting him in a heavenly halo. As he nears me, his eyes lock with mine, a nod of recognition and respect he affords me. In return, the corners of my mouth crook only slightly, as I immediately avert my stare downward to my bare feet. When I sense his passing, I look back at him, only now it is the back of his head that I see. He is lordly handsome, proud and masterful, and yet, he smiles warmly to my father while reaching down to gently stroke the neck of his steed.

Oblivious to the others that ride by me, I continue to watch the two interact with heightened curiosity, surprised when the elven lord suddenly turns to look in my direction. I take a few steps backward, nervous that his attention has fallen on me... only I quickly surmise that it is not me that which he seeks. His own company appears and with a quick jerk of his head and a raised hand, he waves someone forward from the back.

As my eyes follow the object of his attention, soft tendrils of hair caress against my cheeks, and I instinctively reach to return the errant locks behind my ears. Many other faces cross by me, each in turn shows me the respect of my high station, as the Lady of Cirana dictates, and yet, I do not see them. It is the single rider who has extracted himself from the pack that holds me...

Coming up the rear of the party, in a plume of sand, a tall, powerful form suddenly pushes out from between two other riders. Squinting from the flying grit kicked up by the horses' hooves, I turn my face to the side until he passes. He is handsome and gallant, sitting astride a massive stallion sired and groomed here in my homeland. Large and muscular, with an authoritative presence, my eyes are instantly drawn to his long silver hair, shining like spun silk, pulled away from his face by a small braid above each ear, and a large braid down the center of his back. A warrior he must be; his body taut and rippling of muscles beneath his gray tunic, and his legs strong and corded with hard knotted bulges.

Positd ond on the flanks of the warrior's steed, is the carcass of the morning's hunt; a beautiful specimen of a large, white tail buck, with wide spanning antlers, still covered with a dewy felt of grayish-brown velvet, killed no doubt by his bow. I stare after him in amazed wonderment, the thought of his obvious prowess intriguing me even more.

Not realizing that I am riveted to him, openly gaping in a most unladylike manner, I jump when he suddenly turns around to stare at me. I curse inwardly for the sun is too bright in my eyes and his face I cannot see. My cheeks become heated, and I fight the urge to turn away and flee; somehow, my feet remain planted firmly to the ground.

He acts unaffected, as if a staring maiden is a most common reaction to him. No... instead, with slow, languid movement, he reaches up to shift his bow farther back on his shoulder, placing it more flush against his quiver... and despite myself, my eyes follow his every gesture.

A flashing glint sweeps across my way, breaking the dumbfounded stupor which holds me bound... The bow he carries, so unlike the other's, blackened like the night, carved from the finest wood, its intricate gold inlayed designs sparkling in the sun's last dying rays. It was the most beautiful weapon my eye could imagine, seemingly, a very unlikely piece of priceless artwork. Even it, a sign of his status perhaps, is too, the very epitome of a seasoned warrior. And again my mind wonders... How many has he killed with that bow?
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She awakened from her meditative sleep with a slight jerk. It was always the same elven warrior, and most always the same circumstance. Only the slightest of detail might emerge differently in her mind. He would appear to her on the seashore of her beautiful Cirana, riding a magnificent white stallion amidst a large hunting party. But his position within the pack, however, usually varied with him riding alone, to either flanking the elven lord in the front, or riding between two other warriors of similar lineage.

As always, he rode toward her, tall and commanding, his powerful arms and legs holding in submission, the large beast underneath him. But each time, as he neared close enough for her to see his face, some distraction removed her attention until he had ridden past her. And though she knew her visions well, even while emerged in the midst of them, she always startled when he suddenly turned to look at her, the glint of his fine weapon flashing across her eyes, drawing her like a moth to flame before nothing...

Now, as all times before, she concentrated, trying to recall every detail to her conscious mind, but in time, as sleep slowly shook from her body, and she became more enraptured in the waking hours, from her memory the vision faded... save the mighty blackened bow across his muscled shoulder.
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As The Ardana sailed into the harbor and the Lothlorien party began to disperse into smaller boats that would carry them onto shore, King Cirdani waited patiently for his guests to arrive.

It was not long before the beautiful Lady, clinging to the arm of her Lord Celeborn, greeted him. Immediately, the king took her proffered hand and kissed it, his lips lingering for a moment, drinking the vision of her.

"Lady Galadriel," he finally said, his warm breath ticking her skin as he spoke, "Cirana welcomes you."

"King Cirdani, how good it is to see you," Galadriel replied, smiling warmly.

"My fairest lady, your beauty shines as bright as always." Cirdani's long, dark hair, much like that of Lord Elrond, fluttered gently in the sea breeze, and his eyes, a startling color of jaden seawater, sparkled like priceless gems in the midday sun as he finally released her hand.

He then turned his attention to the Lady's life mate, his simper expression growing brighter. "And Lord Celeborn, I see you are looking quite well also," tipping his head slightly as he spoke, his hand resting against his breast.

Celeborn returned the gesture in kind, his own smile no less enamored than that of his royal host. "No complaints have I, King Cirdani, for what has it been now since we have last seen each other?"

Cirdani thought for a moment, absentmindedly rubbing his chin, then his eyes bucked up, "If memory serves me correctly, I believe it has been no less than two thousand years."

"That long?" Celeborn asked, and Cirdani nodded. Looking around at his surroundings, he added, "Never have I seen such a city built on the water." Turning back to King, "It is truly amazing."

"Thank you, Celeborn," taking on a more familiar tone, "It was the wish of my beloved wife to live by the sea, and so..." he sighed slightly, "as you may recall, I could never deny her anything."

"Just as it should be, Cirdani," Galadriel said smiling, patting him gently on the hand. Her eyes reflected the king's sadness as she studied him for a good moment. "Ardana was a beautiful, noble lady, and a fair queen."

"Indeed she was, Lady," he finally replied, casting his glistening eyes downward, he whispered, "She loved you dearly."

Galadriel cupped her hand under his chin, and forced him to look at her, "As I did her," her melodic voice suddenly taking on a deeper pitch, "Now where is my cousin's daughter? I have heard of her great beauty and grace, and wish to see it for myself."

"She will be joining us tonight for dinner," he replied, though his expression remained somber and unchanged, as noted by the Lady, "And as for her beauty," he added, "she is the image of her mother." The three smiled, yet said no more until the Ciranian King held out his arm, in invitation to Galadriel, "Now, you must be weary from your journey. Please allow me to personally show you to your quarters."
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Celeborn stepped away from his terrace, where he stood admiring the beautiful City of Snow and Tears. The sun was beginning to set in the west, out over the waters, casting a warm glow of reddish and pinkish hues over thousands of shimmering ripples. Down below, the gentle breeze carried through the trees making a soft rustle. The city seemed to suddenly come to life with a burst of fresh activity, and he smiled... The Lonely Isle did not seem so lonely after all.

Hearing the soft wisps of her gown, he turned away from the outer world, looking back into the sitting room of their luxurious quarters, spying his wife's approach. "Such beauty and tranquility," he said, gesturing outside, "I can almost see why Cirdani has chosen to spend all of his time here." As she neared him, he instinctively wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him, kissing her forehead.

Sighing, she melted into the strong expanse of his chest, closing her eyes. 'Beauty and tranquility', she repeated his words in her head slowly, mulling them over and over. Yes, she had to admit that Cirana was breathtaking, but to describe it was tranquil when such unhappiness and arrest thrived in the Lord's palatial abode? Again, she sighed, drawing the concerned attention of her beloved, his eyes boring questioningly into her own, until she smiled queerly, saying, "Beautiful, I would agree, husband, but I feel there is anything here but tranquility."

He stared at her curiously for a moment, but remained silent, knowing his wife's insight was much better than his own... and very seldom ever wrong.

"Much pain and despair," she pulled away slightly to look deeper into his bright, befuddled eyes, her smile forlorn, "Loneliness and desperation can be one's worst enemy."
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Nienna moved through the motions of life, with little or no purpose, and certainly no feeling. Initially, she had found the announcement of visiting elven kin from Lothlorien exciting beyond her wildest imagination, but soon her doldrums returned, as they always did. Crying again for no inexplicable reason, she found no joy or even reason to wake in the mornings. Her mind taunted her, her heart crushed and her spirit broken, though to those around her, she had no conscience, no heart, nor spirit; only cold and indifferent she was to them.

In the dark recesses of her mind, the princess contemplated change that would never come, dreams that would never become reality, wishes that would never come to fruition. Deeper, she fell into the one companion that remained with her always, fearful loneliness and despair. Slowly, she could sense her toehold slipping - everyday poised with challenges and setbacks, and she was sure, this new dawning would be no different...

Hearing voices from below, she moved to her balcony. In the courtyard a small gathering of she-elves stood talking and laughing amongst themselves, yet purposely standing near the handsome, newly arrived guards of Lorien. Slinking backward so no one would see her, she watched and listened. They were discussing the silver haired sentinels from afar, and speaking of her... again. More than once she had heard her name mentioned by the maidens, well aware that she was the least favorite among the younger elves in her realm. But must they always be so cruel?

One commented that she was cold and heartless, while the others agreed emphatically. Then another spoke up, calling her arrogant and spoiled, and once again, the others nodded in agreement. And it went on, each elf maiden speaking in turn; "No wonder no one wishes for her company! She never smiles!" "Never a good word does she give anyone either!" "Yes, and the poor king...to have a daughter that horrid!" "I heard he could not secure any betrothals for her." "I heard that also. Do you surely suppose it to be true?" "Of course it is true, silly! She might be beautiful on the outside, but inside she is absolutely deplorable! No kindness at all!" "Evil she is!" "Indeed!" "Why, she even killed her own mother!" Suddenly, there were shocked gasps and then peels of laughter between the she-elves.

Nienna too, gasped in shock, her hand flying to her mouth before a sound could rush out. Straightening her stance, though her legs threatened to crumble, she quickly wiped the moisture from her cheeks, unaware she had even wept. Her face flamed up in an angered course of emotion, starting from the deep binds of her heart, sweeping throughout her core to her limbs.

Silently, she crept even farther back against the cold wall, sliding down on her haunches, her hands balled into tight fists, her fingernails cutting into her tender flesh, but no pain did she feel. Her broken heart hardened instinctively to stone as she bit back her fury. She wanted to hit something... or someone! Their words repeating themselves in her mind, "She even killed her own mother... She even killed her own mother... killed her mother... killed her mother...killed..."

Her breaths had long since turned to short gasps, and though she felt nothing but intense, hate filled wrath, tears continued to spill from her eyes. But, as always before, she suddenly withdrew back into herself before her furor could best her, replaced with an overwhelming feeling of loneliness and despair filling her, choking her unmercifully until she thought her insides would implode. 'Immortality is nothing more than a vicious curse to my kind. All I wish to do is die, and pass away unnoticed!' As quickly as her rage festered, it had dissipated, until she was left with nothing but hollow bitterness. 'What they say about me is true! All of it is true!'