Chapter 2: The Heart Burns Through Me
Legolas finally wrote to me.
Dearest Elvana,
I am traveling with Aragorn and Gimli. The little Dwarf is slow, whereas Aragorn can almost keep up with me. The orcs that Saruman made, have taken Pippin and Merry, two of the Hobbits. Frodo and Sam are heading towards Sauron to destroy the Ring. Gandalf and Boromir are dead.
How is Father and your mother? How are you? What have you been doing now that I am gone? How are your pets and your archery?
I miss you and Father. Mostly you, though. Hopefully this journey will be over soon, so that I can come home. I will write to you as soon as I can.
Your older brother,
~Legolas~
A tear slides down my face at the mention of Mother. I usually don't cry, but that did it. How is Mother? How about: Trying to overrule me? Anyways, I will write back tomorrow.
After placing the letter with the other ones, in a place that Mother can not find, I grab my bow, arrows, and saddle for my horse.
The white and black mare becomes giddy as I walk closer to her. The brown star on her face shimmers as the light falls from between the trees and onto her face. After placing the saddle on her, I swing on to her, having her gallop as soon as I'm on.
Heading out to the deeper forest, I place an arrow onto my bowstring. Aiming for the back of one of the elves in the guard, I let my arrow loose. The guard, already sensing the arrow, slices it in half with his shining sword. I take aim at another, this guard repeating the other's action. After I shoot at each guard, I aim for three at a time. The guards are already prepared for this, as I do it once every 7 days.
"Elvana! Come here!" Mother calls right after I shoot the last set of three. Suppressing a frown, I turn around and gallop towards Mother. Her almost perfect face is set in a frown. Her hair is tangled, which it never is. "You need to get out of that ridiculous get-up and put on a dress fit for a princess because you are one!"
"Yes Mother!" I say with a huge fake smile. She hates how much I hunt and ride. She also hates what I love wearing. Regretfully taking off the saddle, I pet Mela's shoulder and walk her back to her pasture.
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