Bloody silmarils, book I by Dilly

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Chapter 18: Dangerous liaisons

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Ecthelion almost never received personal mail. The last time he had received any was a letter of condolence written by Maedhros and Maglor, and that was decades ago.

So he was surprised when he was handed a letter bearing the seal of the House of Finarfin. He quickly imagined some martial and epic affair... but was soon disappointed.

 

Dear Ecthelion,

Ilúvatar! I don't know who else to tell my problems to but you, to whom I originally confided.

You remember Meril, that young lady of Barad-Eithel of whom I spoke to you in a certain tavern of Vinyamar, and to whom I so quickly gave my heart, though hers was only Distance, Ignorance and Ice towards me.

Well, well! There's something new! I have managed to chat with her from time to time, and as the days go by, I have become a bit of a confidant.

However, I can't say whether my feelings are mutual. She is certainly very friendly, but she does not show me the kind of tenderness that betrays Love.

What do you think? What would you do in my place? Should I declare myself? Help me!!!

Orodreth Son of Angrod

P.S.: Give my regards to your squire.

 

"But what do I care about his love stories!" Ecthelion exclaimed. "And then this abuse of punctuation marks, it makes me sick."

He called Belin.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Orodreth says hello. Do you remember him?"

"Of course I do! How is he? And the nice lady he likes?"

"Huh? Don't tell me you remember that detail?"

"Yes, I remember it very well."

"Frankly, I don't understand... How can he want to chase girls when where he is, he could be training with Prince Fingon?"

"It's not the same thing, milord."

"That's right... It's better!"

The next day he wrote a reply.

 

Dear Orodreth,

Although we know little of each other, if you ask my opinion, I must give it to you, by Tulkas.

Abandon these marivals unworthy of a king's grandson and train for war.

Sincerely,

Ecthelion Kormaion of the Fountain

 

 

* * * *

 

Meril Limwen was a young elf-lady, not much older than Orodreth – she was only 49. Pretty and slim, she was always adorned and perfumed, and her long, wavy brown hair was carefully styled.

"Orodreth, how pleased I am that we have become friends," she said, looking into his blue eyes with her green ones. "I have always had friends only among other barons' daughters, never among barons' sons, and even less among princes' sons."

"My sweet friend! It is an honour to be your first friend."

After this witty introduction, they went out into the hanging gardens overlooking the Sirion. There, the son of Angrod could not help but gaze at his young comrade in the winter light. In her dark dress trimmed with a white fur collar, she was truly splendid.

"You are so beautiful," he dared.

"Alas! Not enough!" she sighed.

"What do you mean?"

She sat down on a bench topped by an arbour. Orodreth followed her.

"I love someone above my condition," she confessed.

"Let's see, if he loves you, he won't care about your rank. And you're a lord's daughter after all!"

"I don't know if he loves me at all," she moaned. "I'm probably not beautiful enough for him."

"What are you talking about? You are wonderful!"

Meril blushed. So did Orodreth.

"Dare I..." she whispered.

"Dare, my friend! You can tell me anything!"

"I don't know..."

She lowered her long black lashes, which seemed damp.

"He is a very noble elf..."

"Is he from a great family?"

"Yes. From a family of kings. "

Unconsciously, Orodreth puffed up his chest.

"How well do you know him?"

"Well, I sometimes chat with him... He understands women's hearts so well!"

A big smile appeared on the naive face of the young blond prince.

"And he is so kind and gentle..." she continued. "But he is a prince..."

"That's all right!" Orodreth exclaimed. "I'm sure that as soon as he knows how you feel, he'll want to marry you!"

"You think so?" she said, redder than ever.

"Yes, I do  But I'm thinking about it... Is he handsome at least?"

"Oh yes ! He has such beautiful clear eyes..."

Orodreth was close to ecstasy.

"And such long hair, which shows his strength !"

Orodreth's face broke down. He had always worn his hair bowl cut, in the Nargothrond fashion.

"I've never seen a man with such long, thick hair," Meril added, blushing. "And he's so brave... And strong..."

Orodreth said nothing more, he had no strength left... His heart had just broken.

"My God, it's Him!" she suddenly whispered in a terrified voice.

Accompanied by some lieutenants and squires, Prince Fingon had just entered the gardens. And despite the coolness of the day, he was shirtless and drying himself with a towel. Orodreth would have given a lot to have such abdominal muscles and biceps, and golden braided hair beating his knees. He suddenly felt ugly, incredibly young, incredibly bald, and incredibly miserable.

The group walked down the cobbled path that passed by the arbour and the bench where they were sitting.

"Oh," Fingon commented when he reached Meril's level, "nice little top."

Meril blushed and when Fingon was out of sight, she exploded into Orodreth's ear, "He paid me a compliment!"

"I want to die," thought Orodreth.

That evening, he took up his quill.

 

Ilúvatar!

Dear Ecthelion, if you only knew! I should have listened to your advice, and not meddled in matters of love. Meril Limwen, whom I love and almost mistakenly thought I was loved in return, has eyes and feelings only for the son of the High King, Prince Fingon!

How can I compete with him? I am no match for him!!

Orodreth, the most unhappy of the elves, who thinks of taking his own life in despair.

 

Two weeks later he received this reply:

 

Dear Orodreth,

You are right. You are no match for him. And if you really wanted to take your own life, you would have done so already.

Sincerely,

Ecthelion Kormaion of the Fountain.