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The Last Wood Elf	By : Mel99Moe Category: +Third Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 4551 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters or places. No money is being made from this story.

Chapter List
- 37
- 38
- 39
Chapter 38 – We Meet Again

Legolas was prepared to wait, however, he didn’t know the wait would have been this long. Days passed like weeks in Lothlórien, where time seemed to slow to a snail’s pace. He was used to the hustle of the human pace though, quick decision making and follow through. But, if he wanted his army, he would have to wait it out.
Lady Galadriel seemed to know the goings on in the world outside of her realm. Legolas assumed she consulted her mirror often, but he was told this was not the case. He had befriended a group of elves that informed him of how things worked. The mirror, it seemed, was a tool only to be used in the direst situations, for it was not as reliable as some would believe. It could show you the future, or only the outcome that you desired most. It depended on the one who ventured to look into it. The truer of heart, the truer the vision.
Instead of using her mirror, Lady Galadriel had the unusual gift of mind power, and could communicate with a willing host. And so it was Gandalf who she visited as she meditated in her garden, looking into his thoughts or using his visions to see what happened hundreds of miles from Caras Galadhon. During her last session, she found out that the Rohirrim had indeed been called upon by Gondor. They had gathered and were now marching to the White City and to war. Legolas could not help but feel guilt for not being with them, but he knew he was where he needed to be. And so, he waited for word from Galadriel that it was time to gather his own army and execute their plans.
While in Lothlórien, Legolas became friendly with quite a few elves. He had joined the hunters as they set out to check traps or hunt big game. He had been invited to help in the kitchens once or twice, and learned a bit about preparing the meals for the special feasts. One time, he was caught singing to himself as he walked along one of the many catwalks, and the minstrels invited him to their practice sessions. And then there was the storytelling, done around the communal fire pits of the city. He had shared his stories once, and word quickly spread of his talent for the telling of tales. The Lórien elves constantly asked him to share his stories, for they had never seen the things Legolas had experienced during his lifetime. He told them of the Woodsmen, and how their community was very similar to that of Caras Galadhon, a city in the trees as he referred to it. Then, he told them about the Beornings and their chief, Grimbeorn. Many of the elves had known his father, Beorn the skin-changer, and were saddened by his death. They’d not heard any news of his home or his people since that time, and wondered how they fared. Legolas told them about his brief stay at Beorn’s Hall, and of all that he’d seen while there. The elves were glad to know that his son continued Beorn’s legacy, keeping things much the same as his father wanted them.
Legolas found that it was the soldiers who were most curious about Rohan and their strategies for battle. Of course, Legolas had been well trained by the Rohirrim, and had plenty to share with them. He even shared a few personal stories about his misadventures with Eomer and Théodred when they were young. It was good to talk about his youthful days, and especially his friendship with Théodred. He hadn’t thought of his friend in some while, and it lifted his heart to speak of him now.
The elf prince was amazed at how the Lothlórien elves were mesmerized by his stories, and they hung onto every word. Truly, they had not much experience with the people outside of their realm. Most had never ventured past their borders, for they knew they were safe within. But they were taught to believe that life outside of Lothlórien was harsh and deadly, and that they were better off to live a peaceful life within their protective gates. The truth was, life could be unpleasant, physically uncomfortable at times, and sometimes very grating and desolate, but there was joy and happiness more than naught, and that made all the bad times worth the struggle. Through his teachings, he did not realize it, but Legolas began to form a following of Noldor who wished to experience what was everyday life for the prince. His army was building right before his very eyes, though he did not know it. More than that, he was developing the stirrings of a new colony of elves that—if it all worked out—would go with him to Mirkwood. And among those most hopeful was Calariel.
Legolas had spent a good deal of time with Calariel, developing their friendship, and only slightly touching on anything more that might develop between them. Despite her father’s warnings, she would not stay away from him. She liked Legolas very much, but she was careful not to involve her heart just yet. Legolas felt the same, though he hadn’t known it. They were in a time of war, and the natural instincts of the elves was to put a hold on any romantic notions. It would not be prudent to involve the heart before going into a battle where one might perish, leaving the other to slowly fade from grief. That being so, it gave Calariel and Legolas an opportunity to familiarize themselves without the underlying push to take their relationship to the next step.
They met most nights, climbing into the trees where they felt closest to the stars, though they could not see them through the thick canopy above. There they would sit and talk for hours, or just silently contemplate their own thoughts. Legolas felt very comfortable with Calariel, and he found himself anticipating these quiet times alone with her. They had talked about many different things, but there was one thing that Legolas would never bring up, and Calariel wished to know, though it was surely a painful memory for the prince. After many nightly conversations, she finally got the courage to ask him.
“Legolas, will you ever tell me about the one you call Róta?”
Legolas was taken aback and glanced at Calariel from the corner of his eye, “Why do you want to know about her?”
“Because I know about everyone else who has influenced you in one form or another,” Calariel said.
“I would not say that she influenced me,” Legolas quietly admitted. “She is not worth wasting my breath on.”
“Was it very painful for you?” she whispered.
Legolas remembered that night in the blacksmith’s cottage. Painful was not exactly the word he would have used. There was a full range of emotions that went along with that evening, from desire to anger and then embarrassment.
“What happened to her, do you know?” asked Calariel after Legolas did not speak.
“She was caught in her lies, but escaped before the guards could apprehend her. No one has seen or heard of her since. It is good to be rid of worthless people like her, I say. Besides, she was employed by Gríma, and he is no more. She’ll have likely crawled back to the place from whence she came,” said Legolas with disgust. “Why do you want to know about her?”
“I don’t know. I guess you’ve told me about the other women, but you’d never spoken of her. I was just curious.”
“She was wicked and I was naïve. That’s all I’ll say about that,” Legolas ended, and then turned the questions onto her. “What about you? Has there been anyone that you’d rather never have met?”
“No, not that I can think of,” she answered.
“What about that gate guard you spoke with upon our arrival. He did not seem very friendly, least of all to me.”
Calariel searched her memory, “You speak of Arato? Well, yes, there are times that I wish he’d been born to a different race.”
Legolas laughed, “See, the men would have put that differently. They’d wish he’d never been born at all. But go on. I did not mean to interrupt. How has Arato made life difficult for you?”
Calariel looked at Legolas skeptically, but continued, “We were in training together. He is very good, but so am I, and he did not like that. Everything is a competition with Arato.”
“Seems harmless enough,” Legolas commented. “A little hard competition is good… keeps you on your toes. That’s how it was for Eomer, Théodred and I.”
“But I’m sure your friends never accused you of cheating your way up the ranks with one of your officers,” she said sadly.
The humor left Legolas’ eyes as he regarded Calariel, “He accused you of doing this… with Haldir?”
“How did you know?” she said shocked.
“I have seen the way the March warden observes you. It’s not difficult to figure out his feelings towards you. He does not always hide them so well,” Legolas admitted.
“So you see why I keep my distance from him. I don’t like to because I like Haldir. He has helped me, but not in the way that Arato accuses.”
“And if Arato was not a burden?” Legolas asked carefully.
“I feel for Haldir as I would for a brother, nothing more.”
Legolas readjusted himself and moved closer to Calariel so that their legs barely brushed against each other. He looked straight ahead as he asked his next question, “And how do you feel about me?”
Calariel arched a brow and looked down where their legs connected, “Definitely not as a brother.”
“As a friend?” he asked, leading her into an admittance.
She pondered before answering, “As a friend, yes, but there is definitely room for advancement.”
“Ah, I would like very much to advance.” He swiveled to face her. “Perhaps I am due for a promotion.”
“Granted, soldier,” she jested playfully.
Legolas closed the distance between them, cupped the side of her face and kissed her more thoroughly than he had in the past. She did not protest at the feel of his tongue upon hers, and he readily welcomed the feel of her hand sliding across his chest and around the back of his neck. They spent a while discovering these new sensations until they were both dizzy with need. Then Calariel pulled away first and touched a finger to his swollen lips.
“If we were in Rohan, what would happen next?” she asked sensuously.
Legolas was intrigued by her curiosity, “I don’t think it would be proper to tell you the secrets of our Rohirric courting, but I’ll tell you this much. We would have to get ourselves down from this tree for fear of falling blissfully to our deaths.”
Calariel studied his face, seeing not only an elf and a prince, but a strange human quality. “You are unlike anyone I’ve ever met. The son of an elvish king, and yet you refer to yourself as a Rohir. You are bound to them, the Men of the world. I don’t expect that will ever wane.”
Her words struck him to his very soul. Legolas had never thought of himself in that way, but there was some truth in what she said. “It was the path that was chosen for me.”
“And what will you do now that the choice is yours?” she asked seriously.
“My mind is set. I’ll not waver, Calariel. I mean to take back Mirkwood,” he claimed.
“It was always a city of elves. You do know that. Men have never lived there. They would never have been invited into Thranduil’s halls, nor would they have wanted to enter the Elf-king’s caverns. When you reclaim your home and take up the crown, it will be that way still.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way. Why would I turn away those who raised me? Just as they offered me their homes, I shall do the same,” Legolas said.
“Make that decision once you have entered your palace, Laiqalassë. If Thranduil’s riches have not been scavenged, I think you will see why he kept to himself. The Elf-king would venture out from his home, but no one from the outside world was allowed to enter. It is said that there is treasure there that would seduce the minds of men with just one glance of its brilliance. Greed consumes them so easily,” Calariel warned, “And some would stop at nothing to possess what Thranduil had hidden.”
Legolas knew that Thranduil dealt with the Dwarves of Erebor, trading for jewels, stones and gems of rare quality. In return, he used them to trade for goods that allowed his people to thrive. Living underground in a forest teaming with danger made self-sufficiency difficult. Mirkwood depended mainly on trade, but Legolas had never taken into account the dangers of owning such rich treasure. Surely, most men would not have thought twice about stealing from Thranduil, he thought, until Gríma’s name came to mind. Here was a man blinded by greed and power, who would do anything to obtain it, and if there was one, there were others. Once Legolas claimed the throne, it would be his responsibility to keep the treasure, as well as the people, safe. This was something he hadn’t considered before, but now he would think of it often. Could he close himself off as his father did? Would he have to? Would he want to?
* * *
A few more weeks passed torturously by, and Legolas was still awaiting word. He had known that the army was organizing, and he hoped it wouldn’t be much longer before it was time to go to war. He’d met often with Haldir, who kept him informed about their proposed strategies. The March warden would not go to Mirkwood, for he would have the largest part of the army to command as they marched to Dol Guldur. He hesitated at sending either of his brothers to Mirkwood, but he knew this would be likely. At least one of them would have to go along with Legolas. These troops would be the decoys. Once word reached Dol Guldur that the elves were invading Mirkwood, the dark tower would empty, but they would walk into a trap. The idea was to surround the orc army and take down as many as they could so that only a few would actually make their way to Mirkwood and the smaller elvish army. The orcs would not be expecting any trouble so close to their base.
The one thing that would make any of this possible, without Sauron getting word of the surprise attack, depended upon the outcome of the battle in Gondor. The Dark Lord’s attention must not be drawn to the Rhovanion or all would be lost. Galadriel spoke of an event that would happen, an assault on Mordor itself, something that would cause enough of a distraction to allow Lothlórien to carry out its plans successfully. This was what they were all waiting for.
Since coming to Lothlórien, Legolas had seen little of Celeborn. And so he was surprised by the elf lord’s appearance as Legolas sat in one of the garden’s where he chose to meditate.
Celeborn stood silently by, observing Legolas before he called to him. Seeing the young prince reminded him of his sister, who used to come to this exact spot when something was troubling her. She visited here often after meeting and falling in love with Thranduil. Celeborn wondered if it was during these quiet sessions that she made her plans to run away and elope with the Mirkwood King.
“Legolas,” he called, “My wife would have a word with you. She asks that you join her in her private garden.”
Legolas stood immediately, brushed away any dirt that clung to his leggings and followed Celeborn silently to see Galadriel. They stopped just short of the garden entrance, and Celeborn turned to the prince. “Take heed, especially if she will have you gaze into her mirror. Do not try to control your thoughts or questions, but let the mirror speak freely, and it will show you the truth,” Celeborn warned.
Legolas gave a slight bow of his head, “I will, Lord Celeborn.” He could tell that the elf lord was reluctant to have Legolas meet with Galadriel. Had they discussed this before she called upon him? If they had, Legolas could be sure that Celeborn was against the idea, but when it came to Galadriel’s mirror, none but the Lady of Light had the last word.
Legolas entered alone, for Celeborn walked away in the opposite direction of the garden. There was a set of stone steps that led to a sunken area lined with sweet smelling flowers, and lit with hanging lanterns. Fireflies blinked their message to each other, adding to the whimsy of the place. In the center was a stand that held a simple looking stone basin. Galadriel stood next to the basin, and her smile warmed Legolas’ heart. He waited until she called him to join her, and then he approached.
“I thought you would like to know that the time draws near,” Galadriel said, starting the conversation. “The pieces have been put in place, and Gondor is prepared. Gandalf is there. Rohan comes in a few days’ time. Sauron’s eye is turned towards the White City. His Captains have abandoned their posts to return to Mordor, which means no one governs Dol Guldur. It will be safe to start our journey to the dark towers, however, it is you they will be looking for.”
“Yes, I know, and I am prepared,” Legolas said committedly.
“Good,” Galadriel smiled. She walked away from the basin and joined Legolas where he stood, taking his arm. “How have you faired while in Lothlórien? The last time you were here, you were in a hurry to be away. I hope it is not so this time.”
“I knew there was no choice in the matter, and I have made the best of my time, though sometimes it has seemed like an age,” Legolas admitted.
“As is the way time passes in the Golden Woods. And have you made new acquaintances?” she asked.
“More than a few, my lady, as well as some who wish to see me gone, but those are much less than the friends I have made.”
“Well, there will always be those who will not understand. Set in their ways they are,” she smiled, and Legolas thought she was speaking of more than the elves he’d met. Celeborn was among the stubborn.
“I’m sorry if my presence has caused a rift,” he said apologetically.
“You have been just the disturbance needed, I think. But tell me, Legolas, how has it been for you, visiting with your mother’s people?”
“I have learned more about her, about my parents, but I still have questions… not about their relationship. That is quite clear to me, and I understand why everything happened as it did.”
“But you have an unanswered question about your father, don’t you,” she interrupted, finishing his thoughts.
Legolas nodded, noticing that, as he spoke, Galadriel was leading him towards the stone basin. “I cannot quite figure out why he turned away from Erebor without at least trying to help. His actions caused the mistrust between two races… Elves and Dwarves. I keep thinking, trying to come up with a reason, for I know without a doubt, that my father would never have walked away if he thought there was just the smallest hope. What could have made him leave the fight without sending a single arrow to help? Was he bewitched? Was he unprepared?”
Galadriel sat on a stone bench at the edge of the garden, folded her hands and laid them in her lap. “I sent him away.”
“You?” Legolas asked, confused, “But why?”
“There was something he had to know,” she told him from the bench. “The signs were all there, and had the Dwarves not been so foolishly distracted by their need for excavation, they might have seen it coming. But they only have a mind for rock and stone, and there they would see no warning. The elves look to the trees and the stars, and when Thranduil saw the absence of birds and the forest creatures turning from their usual paths, he knew there would be trouble. He sent scouts, who reported having felt the earth shift beneath their feet, and an unusually warm wind blowing from the north. This could only mean one thing… that a dragon had awakened.” She stopped and rose gracefully from the bench, turning to lightly brush a white bell-shaped flower. Then she folded her hands and turned to Legolas, continuing her story.
“You father consulted me in private, for he knew Celeborn would have no words of advice for him. I agreed and he told me of his findings. We both came to the same conclusion about a dragon. Only gems and precious metals will draw a dragon from its slumber, and it takes an enormous amount even at that. Thranduil feared that his people were in danger, having a large treasure locked away within his halls, but I knew it was an insufficient amount to awaken this kind of foe. It was the Dwarves, I told him, for I knew Erebor was one of the richest cities at the time. I hadn’t known just how deep they’d dug or what they had found, but it no longer mattered. A dragon was awake and the Dwarves were in harm’s way.
Thranduil, though I wouldn’t call him a friend of the Dwarves, had a certain connection to them, and felt the responsibility to warn them of the coming danger. I told him that if his scouts were correct in their findings, then it was already too late. He would not hear of it though, and he decided to send his armies to Erebor. Something bothered me about his decision, a niggling that some ill fate awaited. So, I consulted my mirror, and what I saw broke my heart.”
“Did you see the destruction of Erebor?” Legolas asked.
She nodded and looked at the stone basin, “Not just the Dwarves and their King, but your father and most of his army lay amongst the dead. I feared I was too late, for I had not looked into my mirror right away, but I reached Thranduil, and saw through his eyes the destruction had already begun. He stood upon the crest of a hill, looking down on Erebor and the neighboring city of Dale. Fires burned, people screamed, towers fell… everything was being destroyed, and the Dragon Smaug had lain waste to it all. I begged your father not to take another step, for it was almost as I had seen it in my vision. Thranduil and his men were next to die. He told me he must do this, and that he had no choice, but I gave him his choice as he stood upon the hilltop.”
“I know my father,” Legolas said, “He would rather had fought and died, knowing he did all he could to help those people. What could you possibly have known that would have caused him to turn away?”
Galadriel walked over to a trough and picked up a silver vase. She dipped the vase into the water, filling it, and then returned to the stone basin. As she poured the vase full of water, she spoke, “The mirror shows not only the past, present and future. It can relay the outcome of ones choices, for there are many paths that lead to an end result, and each one different. So, I sent your father the vision I had seen of the result if he hadn’t gone to Erebor.” She had emptied the vase, and returned it to the shelf next to the trough.
“And what was this vision?” Legolas asked, anxious to know what changed his father’s mind.
“You,” Galadriel simply stated. She smiled and folded her hands as she returned to the basin. “I showed him his son.”
“But…” Legolas said confused, “I was not born for many years after that time.”
“Time does not matter. The fact was, Thranduil would eventually have a son, and that was most important,” she answered. Then she held her hands out in invitation. “I grant you permission to gaze into the mirror, Laiqalassë, and find what it is that your own paths lead too. You go to war soon, and I sense struggle within your heart about where your loyalty lies… with Men or Elves. But I will tell you this. If you are successful, both will benefit.”
Legolas was tempted by Galadriel’s offer to see into his own future. He moved towards the basin, though he never felt his feet move. The water called to his curiosity, and he found it hard to resist the knowing. Would he sit upon the throne that his father once held with pride? Would he fail to take back Mirkwood? And what of Calariel, his heart suddenly cried out. Would there be a future with her, and would it depend upon his success or his failure? So many questions… so many decisions, and they could be answered with just a look.
Legolas caught himself and stepped away from the pedestal. “No, I will make my decisions without the aid of the mirror.” He had never needed this kind of mystical advice before. He had always made his choices on his own, and though some of them turned out badly, he knew he was the only one responsible for them.
“Wise choice, Nephew,” said Celeborn from the steps that led to the sunken garden.
Legolas spun around, taken by surprise, “What?”
Celeborn descended and joined Galadriel where she stood, and Legolas glared at him, “You would test me like this? Is that how little faith you have in me?”
“Don’t you see?” Celeborn said in answer, “You are highly influenced by Men, and their race is easily persuaded. Isildur is a prime example of their weakness for power. Had you chosen to look into your future, it would have proven to me that they are a compelling force in your life and upon the choices you make.”
“You would compare me to a man weakened by the evil of Sauron?” Legolas said angrily. “You truly do not know me then.”
“I know that the minds of Men works differently than that of the elves. A man is too easily taken by greed. He would use the mirror unwisely, and follow the path that most benefited himself,” Celeborn declared in a calm and even tone. “I feared that they might have taught you to think the same way.”
“You know nothing of the race of Men. There are a good many that would come away from your mirror educated, not ruined. I have been raised by these men, fought by their side, and I trust them with my life. So do not tell me how their minds work, because most of them are honorable, and I am proud to have lived amongst them,” Legolas defended.
“And you are taking my people into dangerous lands,” Celeborn countered. “Should it have been for purely selfish reasons, you would not have your army.”
Legolas took two strides forward and stopped in front of Celeborn, “And if I had my choice of an army, I might not be in Lothlórien right now.” Legolas turned from Celeborn, continuing as he did, “What other reason might I have to return to Mirkwood besides wanting to see it out of the hands of the enemy? Do you think treasure sways me… the power of taking the throne? Or do you fear that once the gates of my home are open, Lothlórien will empty?”
“Enough!” Galadriel ordered. She turned to Legolas, “I asked you to look into the mirror for guidance, nothing more.” Then she turned to Celeborn, “And I did not know you were watching our discussion.” Galadriel went to the stone steps and began to climb, calling over her shoulder, “We are through here, and I’ll not have this kind of disruption in my garden again.”
Legolas and Celeborn were left in the garden, neither one willing to walk away first until Celeborn gestured to the stairs. Legolas shook his head with disgust and left. Celeborn soon followed. Nothing more was said about the incident, and the plans for attack continued over the next few days.
* * *
Word finally came and the armies gathered. The larger army was dispatched first, since they had to stay undetected. When they were close enough to their objected target, Dol Guldur, then Legolas and his smaller army headed out for Mirkwood, traveling north along the Anduin River.
Rúmil was once again amongst the troops, leading a band of elves, while Legolas captained the rest of the garrison. Calariel was under Legolas’ command, and she made sure he was never far from her sight. It was strange, but she felt a kind of responsibility for seeing to his safety. After all, it was Calariel who came upon Legolas in Fangorn, and eventually informed Lothlórien about his existence. She felt she’d been with him from the beginning, and she would see him through these troubling times. She was a soldier, and it was her job to protect the commander.
They came to their path where they would now enter the forest. Legolas drew his company to a halt and approached Rúmil to discuss their plans.
“Haldir and the others should have reached bordering lands of Dol Guldur by now,” Rúmil informed Legolas.
“Good,” Legolas said, “We’ll take a short rest here. Have your men check their weapons and supplies. Then, you and your company will flank northward. I’ll stay on the path that leads towards Mirkwood. I expect the enemy to come from the south, but we should be near the city by then.”
A scout came in quickly, riding up alongside Legolas, “We have visitors.”
Legolas looked east and indeed saw a group of about a hundred men riding towards them. The elf moved Arod through the garrison until he was out front and facing the approaching group. They carried no banner, but their fur vests, long hair and beards were recognizable to Legolas. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Legolas cursed under his breath, “Woodsmen.” He nudged Arod in the sides and they rode out to meet the clan.
Rúmil looked at Calariel, who shrugged her shoulders. “I wasn’t aware that he knew any of the Northmen other than the Rohirrim,” she said.
“I wonder why they are here,” Rúmil commented, narrowing his eyes as he looked after Legolas.
Legolas knew the familiar head of red hair, though there was a lot of grey mixed in with it now. The man had aged, but he was still tall and brawny. The elf smiled as they closed the distance, dismounted and stood face to face. “Folvar, it is so good to see you again.”
Folvar had been the leader of the Woodsmen when Legolas and his uncle came upon him after the destruction of Mirkwood. They made their village their home for a while, and after Elhadron died, Folvar and his wife fostered Legolas.
“Legolas,” Folvar said with astonishment. He stared at the elf a moment, smiled, and then embraced him as he had when Legolas was just an elfling. He released him and took a step back, looking the elf over from head to toe. “Long years has it been. Look at you. You’re no longer the gangly little thing ye once were. As tall as me now, ye are.”
“Slighter in the arms still,” said another familiar voice. Legolas looked to his left and recognized the brothers, Hafdan and Kular. It had been Kular who spoke, the youngest of the brothers, and always the jokester. “Do you still know how to shoot that thing?” he jostled, nodding to the bow on Legolas’ back.
“Of course I do,” Legolas said releasing the bow. “I learned from the best, didn’t I?” Then his face softened to gladness. “Kular, Hafdan, this is a surprise,” Legolas said, gleaming with remembrance. They too had aged, but their personalities were the same.
“Not as surprised as we are,” Hafdan said. “We hadn’t the slightest inkling that you would be amongst the company of elves.”
“We spotted your group and saw that you were elves. There’s been no sign of your kind around here since you and Elhadron came to us,” Folvar informed the Legolas. He looked carefully at the bow in Legolas’ hand and smiled. “You still have it… my old bow?”
“It’s a sturdy weapon, and it’s saved my life more than a few times,” Legolas said, and his hand absently caressed the fine wooden bow. He strapped it to his back before he continued. “What are you doing on this side of the forest?” Legolas asked. The Woodsmen lived in a village on the eastern border of the Rhovanion.
“There’s been an increase in sightings of orcs. We set out to patrol the old forest road and warn the Beornings of the danger, though I’m unsure why orc activity has broadened,” Folvar told him. “And now here you are, making your way towards… where?”
“The time has come, Folvar. I ride for Mirkwood to reclaim my home,” Legolas said assuredly.
Hafdan leaned exaggeratedly to the side, looking at the group of elves in the distance. “What do you have there, a hundred and fifty, two hundred?” He sat back straight and arched a brow at Legolas. “You seem shorthanded, if that. Mirkwood covers a good sized area. You’ll need at least double your numbers, and even then it will be a stretch.”
“Did you learn nothing from the Woodsmen, young Legolas?” Kular chaffed.
Legolas huffed a laugh at his old friends, “Anxious I may be, but a fool I am not. The rest of Lothlórien follows.”
All three Woodsmen looked at each other, and then to Legolas. Folvar spoke for them, “Lothlórien? Did I hear you correctly?”
“I have made amends… somewhat… but it is a long story, and there isn’t the time for that now. Tell me, are the forest roads watched?” Legolas asked.
“Constantly, yes, but you’ll have the best chance if you stick to the marked paths. Wander into the forest, and you’ll not want to know what you’ll meet there,” Hafdan told him.
“Even with the rest of the Galadhrim coming to your aid,” Folvar said, “It would be wise to have greater numbers going in there. The closer you get to your old home, the more ferocious the beasts, and I’m not talking about orcs. When are you prepared to leave?”
“We were only taking a brief rest, and then moving on,” Legolas said.
Folvar looked at Hafdan and Kular, an unspoken agreement between them as they nodded. Then Folvar continued, “Would you be willing to delay your travels by a day or two? We would gladly come with you and your company, but we’d like to send a messenger to the Beornings also. They will have remembered you, and I’ve no doubt that they will help.”
“You can use more men, Legolas,” Hafdan said.
“Beornings? I didn’t think they involved themselves in such matters, so long as their home was unharmed.” Legolas remembered Grimbeorn speaking on occasion to Folvar about such things and finding disapproval.
“Times have gotten worse around here. No one is exempted from the violence, not even the Beornings. So if an army comes to start war against the enemy, we will not hesitate to join,” said Folvar assuredly.
“And I’ll not deny your help,” Legolas said and clasped Folvar’s shoulder.
Folvar brought his arm up, settling it around Legolas’ shoulders. “Good, and we’ll use the time to catch up. I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you. Sefa and I worried about you after taking you to Rohan. She took it the worse, and always felt there was something more we could have done. I cannot wait to tell her that we’ve met again, and of the fine ellon you’ve grown to be.”
“Going to Rohan was exactly what I needed. King Théoden was beyond fair and accepted me as one of his own. Sefa should have no regrets, and I hope to travel to the village someday soon. I’d very much like to see her again.” Legolas looked past the Woodsmen to the group of men standing at a distance, curiously searching for someone. “What of Torlek? I don’t see him among the men.”
The three Woodsmen bowed their heads, and the Folvar spoke, “Alas, Torlek succumbed to age and illness. We lost him the summer before last. His wife died two years before he did, and I don’t think he ever really got over it. And his daughters had moved on. The eldest married the son of the clan leader in a neighboring village, while his youngest daughter married within our own village. Unfortunately, her husband was killed while out on patrol not long after Torlek passed.”
Legolas placed his hand on his heart and said a silent prayer in elvish. Then he addressed the Woodsmen, “Torlek was a good man, and I’m sorry to hear that I won’t get to meet him again.” To lighten the mood, Legolas changed the conversation to Hafdan, “What about you? What has changed since we last met?”
“Why, I married the girl I was courting, and we have five children,” Hafdan said valiantly.
Kular, his brother, patted Hafdan’s shoulder, laughing and shaking his head. “He’s very proud of his family, and he should be. Three fine sons and two daughters he has.”
“How about you? Did you marry also?” Legolas asked Kular, and the Woodsman shrugged his shoulders.
“Some things have not changed much over the years,” Hafdan answered despite of his brother’s protest. “He still has all the maidens in a swoon despite all these unattached years. You’d think that would be a lesson to them, but as you can see, my handsome brother has aged well.”
“Now,” Kular complained, “don’t go making me out to sound like some kind of panderer.”
The brothers seemed to forget about the others as they engaged in conversation about Kular’s current situation. “Did you or did you not find yourself in the company of three women within one week?” Hafdan accused.
Kular’s mouth flapped like a fish gasping air. Then he regained his composure and smiled, a logical answer obviously finding its way to the forefront of his thoughts. “Well, you can’t blame me for wanting to make the right decision. All three are very eligible, and they all have traits that I find very satisfying.”
“Satisfying? Pshh, he’s weighing his decision on which should be satisfied heftily, his stomach or his cock,” Hafdan jostled.
Folvar leaned towards Hafdan and whispered, “Watch what you say in front of the elf.”
Legolas laughed at Folvar’s good intensions, “There is no need for me to hold my ears anymore. I do have some experience in these matters. I think what Kular is saying is that if he is to settle down with one of these women, he wants to make sure he’s made the right choice.”
“Exactly,” Kular agreed, glad to have someone on his side of matters.
Hafdan continued, “‘Tis the heart, I say, that is most important in making that choice. Everything else just falls into place if the soul is happy.”
Legolas nodded, “He’s got you there, Kular. Love feeds the soul.”
“Well, to tell the truth, one of the three is more special in that way,” Kular admitted. “Dalla knows me well, and we’ve known each other longest, though we’ve only recently thought of each other as more than friends.”
“Dalla,” Legolas repeated the name, “Sounds familiar.”
“You may have met her. She is Torlek’s youngest daughter,” Hafdan told him, “The one who lost her husband.”
“He was a friend of mine,” Kular explained. “I felt it was only right to help see his widow through her grief, but neither one of us expected anything to come of it.”
“What are you waiting for, man?” Legolas exclaimed. “Torlek would have been proud to call you son.”
“Aye,” Kular smiled, “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Feeling the attention had been placed on him for too long, he turned the questions onto Legolas. “What of you then? A handsome elf such as yourself, you must have the she-elves lined up in waiting. No doubt you could have your pick, eh?”
Legolas cupped his hand behind his neck and smiled sheepishly, “Well, I—”
“Prince Legolas!” Calariel called as she approached the group.
Legolas turned to her, “Calariel, come. I’d like you to meet some dear friends of mine.” He introduced her to the Woodsmen, who were seemingly stunned to see a female warrior.
Calariel bowed and made her introductions. Then she addressed Legolas, “Rúmil awaits your orders.”
“Oh yes, tell him there’s been a change in the plans. The Woodsmen will march with us, and the Beornings might join also. Folvar has sent word to Grimbeorn. We will wait until we receive an answer. Set up camp and keep guards stationed at all times. We don’t want any surprises.”
Calariel nodded to Legolas and to the Woodsmen before returning to the company of elves. Legolas could feel three sets of eyes drilling into his back, and he slowly turned to find the men with arms crossed and brows raised questioningly.
“Prince?” Folvar asked.
“What exactly happened there in Lothlórien?” Hafdan said curiously.
“And who is she?” Kular asked dreamily as he watched Calariel return to the elves.
“Yes, I am a prince, nothing happened in Lothlórien, and she is a Galadhrim soldier,” Legolas answered. “I told you it was a long story.”
Folvar looked Legolas over carefully, mystified by the news. “Then if you are a prince… your father was—”
“King Thranduil,” Legolas answered for him. “I have not known for long, but regardless of that, my mission has not changed. I have always sworn to come back to Mirkwood.”
“That’s why Elhadron wanted to keep you hidden and safe. It makes sense to me now,” Folvar said.
“What of the she-elf?” Kular asked. “Is she your promised?”
“Must you always be so inquisitive?” Hafdan chastised. “She is a soldier.”
“Did you not see the way she touched Legolas’ arm as she left?” Kular clapped Legolas on the back. “Pay attention, young prince, for the girl is smitten with you.”
The tips of Legolas’ ears blushed pink, and he bowed his head as he gave a flustered smile, “This is not news to me. And I return the feelings, but we do not know each other very well yet. She is Noldor and I… I am not.”
“Well, if anything, you have one more reason to fight,” Kular commented. “Claim your land back, Prince Legolas, and then see if the girl will be yours. But I’ll grant you this, she’ll not say no,” he jested.
“Come then,” Folvar boasted, “Let our people and yours take counsel before we march. Perhaps we’ll all learn something from one another.”
Folvar called his troops forth and they joined Legolas and the Galadhrim at their camp. In only a day or so, they would head into the Rhovanion, prepared to do battle with the creatures of the dark army.
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The Last Wood Elf