Chapter Text
"Chuaigh mé isteach i dteach aréir is d'iarr mé cairde ar mhnaoi an leanna.
Is é dúirt sí liom ní bhfaighidh tú deor.
Buail an bóthar is gabh abhaile."
The warm summer air was sweet that morning. You had been up since sunrise, singing and running through the flower fields inside the wooded areas around your home. Today had a different feel to it than other days previous. You felt happy and light-hearted, and without a care in the world. By now, it was nearing noon and there were sounds of excited chatter in the village center. One word caught your ear: party.
Quickly, you turn on your heel and dash from the trees to see what everyone is going on about. Elves everywhere were smiling and even jumping around with what looked like some type of invitations in their hands. All your friends had them, and soon, they rushed over to see you.
"Máiréad, have you heard the news?!" said your friend Iona, beaming.
"No, I haven't. What's going on?!"
"The Elvenking of Mirkwood is throwing another one of his summers galas! The invitations have just arrived! Look, see, it has my name printed, right here!" She shows you the parchment paper with the elegant script bearing her name in black ink. There is also the date and time printed below and a message from the King:
" 'I welcome you to join in celebrating the estival solstice with me,' " you read out loud. " 'The event will take place the 12th Sterday of Forelithe.' That's tomorrow!" You say excitedly.
"I know! I can't wait!" Iona says.
"I wonder if I got one, too?" You say, looking around for the courier.
"I'm sure you did! It's like all of the younger women have personal invitations."
"That's strange. I wonder why." You say, perplexed.
"I wonder if the King is looking for the Prince a bride!" Chimes in your other friend Enel.
"Don't be foolish. Why would the King be looking for his son a bride in countryside village? We're farmers-daughters and gardeners. We're hardly fit to be royalty." Your friends don't like your tone, but deep down they know you speak the truth. As you look around, you spot your mother and father, and she waves you over.
"I'll be right back!" You say, leaving your group.
It did seem like all of the girls your age were grinning over their personal invitations. Before you reach your parents, your younger brother Daeron sneaks up from behind you.
"Where do you think you're going?" He asks, pulling on your long, red hair.
"Hey, stop that!" You slap him on the chest as you turn to face him.
"What are you going to do about it, freckle-face?"
You frown as you take in what he said. It was true, your face was covered in freckles, and had been since you were born. You weren't born with flawless and pure skin like the rest of your kin, but it did set you apart from the rest of them. Men traveling the countryside, stopping in your village for rest and supplies, always seemed to be drawn to you, leaving the other females jealous, even if they didn't want the attention from the men. Your brother, however, always used them as an excuse to tease you.
"What do you want?"
He pondered the question for a moment before saying something about all the excitement going on.
"Bet you didn't get an invitation! Thranduil only invites the most beautiful girls to his parties."
"Daeron! Don't speak to your sister that way," says your mother, as she comes upon you two. "Run along, your father has been looking for you."
He groans and leaves the two of you be.
"Did you need something, nana?" You ask with a smile.
"Ah, yes. Here, I believe this is yours," she says, handing you the same kind the envelope as your friends. And just like theirs, your name is penned in the same gorgeous calligraphy.
"Do you know what this is for?" You asked her, inserting the card back into it's holder.
"Well, my dear, it looks like you've been invited to a party with the Elven king, my dear. You should be excited."
"It just seems...odd."
She reads the expression on your face plainly. "You always over-think things, darling. Go! Enjoy yourself and get away from here for awhile! I think it will do you some good."
"Nana, I've been to these kinds of parties before. You go, you drink, and you dance. Just because the Elven king has invited me, what is this cause for all this?" You look around at everyone smiling and celebrating. You just don't seem to share the same feelings.
"Now, now, don't go making up your mind so fast. Your father and I will see that you look the part, so that you might be more accepting."
Just when you go to interrupt, you're stopped by her hand.
"You're going, my dear. Best just get used to the idea of being a proper lady for the evening."
You roll your eyes, and tell your mother goodbye. Your friends are awaiting your arrival to see if you got the same invitation as they.
"Did you get one?!" asks Iona.
You nod, but just don't share your friends' feelings.
"What's wrong, Máiréad? Aren't you happy?"
"Meh, I just don't understand all of this, I guess."
"Why, because it was just us girls that got invited?"
"In a way, yes." You say, looking down at the dirt. "Do you not feel anything odd about this?"
"No," Iona answers almost too quickly. "not really. I think you're just over thinking it! Come, lets go pick out what we're wearing!"
You sigh and let your friend drag you by the arm to her house, your face never regaining the smile you had had earlier. You thought you might as well get over it, as there was no changing the fact that you were going. If anything, you could drink yourself into a crazy, wine-inducing stupor.
Once inside Iona's room, she tell you to tell her which of her dresses would look best for the king's courts. Then she tells you what you should wear.
"Remember that beautiful, blue dress your mother's sister sent you? The one with the gold embroidery on it?"
"Yes, are you wanting to borrow it?"
"No! I think you should wear it! It looks so elegant; far better than anything I have! Why, I bet you'd look like you're actually from Mirkwood in that gown!"
"I don't know. Don't you think it's a little too much?" Your voice hints at uncertainty.
"Heavens no! That blue against your beautiful red hair.... I'm jealous!" Iona sits beside you on the bed. "Really, all the girls here are jealous of you."
"Why? Look at me." You look down at your lap. "Everyone stares at me like I'm some outsider."
"Trust me, I've heard what they say. They stare because you're so unique, Máiréad!"
The two of you talk awhile, before she gets your mood back up to it's normal, happy self. As Iona goes about digging through her wardrobe, you run home to grab the blue dress you have had tucked away since you received it. Maybe this wasn't going to be as bad as you expected. Iona seemed to have gotten better at her persuasion...
