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Book One, Ch. 1: The Gift Giving
I own nothing, I ask for nothing.
~She had the perfect gift for the youngest prince of Mirkwood. ~
Rawien shifted with unelf like nervousness as she watched the elves in front of her give their gifts. She looked down at her hands that were empty. Nothing for the prince who was coming of age, nothing to praise him of his beauty and grace, nothing to tell him that his friendship had meant so much to her, nothing. Then she glanced at the elf in front of her, in his hands were the perfect gift, two identical knives made for a prince and appropriate for his coming of age. Yet the he-elf who now held them had no idea how much those knives would help the prince in the future. He had no idea that Rawien had seen the coming darkness and those knives only fought it back. She had seen those knives in her dreams for the last year, fighting amazingly. But a ghost had been holding them and she had not been able to make out whom it was.
She had been determined to make those knives for the youngest prince, and now instead of in her hands they were in her masters. He had taken them away from her, telling her it was not appropriate for an apprentice to give gifts to a prince. She had reluctantly agreed, but inside her heart fell, now the prince would not compliment her, he would not have a reason to come and see her again.
Why would he want to see her? He was of the age to be a master of arms for the elves; he was not going to continue to play with an apprentice. He would go off and marry a beautiful princess and they would live happily. While she would go to Imladris, where she knew her smith skills would be needed soon. That would be the way it would be.
She stepped up to the throne and bowed deeply in her dress. She then stood not moving forward with her master. She dare not look into the prince's eyes. Her master handed him the package. He opened it and smiled, she could not help looking at his smile. Her eyes then moved up to his, to her surprise he was not looking at her master but at her.
"Your skills are great, I will be honored to use your knives in battle sword smith." He placed a hand on her master's shoulder in thanks. His eyes moved away from hers. And she suddenly felt like she had been in a trance, she immediately dropped her eyes to the ground. Had she been staring?
She followed her master away, still feeling her face burn from those eyes.
"You will not go to the celebration, your work is not finished here." Her master said when they came back to their workshop.
She nodded; she went to her room to take off her good clothes and placed them nicely on the bed. Then she put on her work clothes, which were already dirty from a weeks work. She moved out into the work area and frowned slightly when she did not see her master. She did not try to look for him, for he was where everyone else was, at the celebration.
She worked long into the night, trying to ignore the laughter and singing coming from over the wall of the castle. As she finished carving a leaf onto a sword she saw a shadow loom up onto the walls. She turned pulling out two just made knives ready to attack. They fell out of her hands as she recognized her visitor.
J.R.R. Tolkien is the owner, author and founder of all I base my writing on