Bethrelfin allowed herself to be led by Malethion, eyes shut tight. “You better not let me bump into anything,” she mumbled, hearing him laugh. He suddenly stopped, squeezing her hand tight.
“Last week you described to me what Mirkwood was, what it looked like, how it felt.” She stiffened at the mention of her… home? Was it ever a home to her?
“Well, I thought your first steps in finding your own home would be embracing your heritage, the beauty in what you deem ugly.” Beauty? Could you even find any beauty in such a dreary, oppressive place?
“So, when you’re ready, open your eyes.” She felt Malethion let go of her hand, as if giving her space. She blew out a breath and opened her eyes.
A dress lay on their bed. It was… It took her breath away. A deep, dark black, just like the forest of Mirkwood. Sewed and entwined into that deep darkness were leaves, orange and golden, gleaming in the light of the sun pouring out of the open window. She reached out and felt the fabric between her fingers, silky and smooth.
Dark, and yet, those orange gold leaves reminded her of the trees. The ground would be littered with orange and red, an entire carpet covering the forest, the only colours in a dim and dreary place. It also reminded her when she was still young, climbing up trees to try and glimpse the stars at night, the leaves swaying like an ocean of autumnal bliss.
It was beautiful, full of not just memories of darkness, but of light, of beauty. After a few moments, she finally found her voice.
“How will I fight?” she asked.
“I had it altered. Peony the seamstress still owed me from that batch of pumpkin pies I had baked for her son’s birthday. She never altered something so big,” she heard Malethion chuckle. “It should have room for you to buckle your belt and sheath your daggers, and the back should be comfortable for you to have your bow and quiver handy. I also had some trousers made for you to wear underneath; the bottom part can be torn away quite easily in a pinch. And…” Bethrelfin didn’t give him a chance to continue. She grabbed his face and kissed him, almost ferociously at first before softening.
It was perfect. It was all her good memories, all the light and fairness. When she broke away, she felt Malethion wipe away tears from her eyes.
“And,” he said, laughing for a moment before leading her to their wardrobe. He took out a shawl and cloak, the same beautiful silky material, the same oppressive black, the same orange leaves, all intertwined.
“For the winter, when it gets colder,” he smiled. “Your shoes are in the making! It’s just, well, Peony’s husband never had to make shoes for us big folk, as he so kindly put it.” Bethrelfin found herself laughing. There it was, that warmth she had been chasing for so long. A small fire kindled in her heart, the beginning of a long journey.
“Thank you,” she murmured, still staring at the dress.
It wasn’t home, but it was a start.
