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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
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Chapter 4 - Guidance

When Elhadron told Legolas that they would stay with the Woodsmen for a while, he did not expect it to be more than a month or two, just until it was safe to travel. It was now close to five years since the two had settled in the village, but they were very content.

This certainly hadn’t been a part of Elhadron’s plan, nor did it follow Thranduil’s last wish to see Legolas out of the Rhovanion. However, the forests had become much too dangerous for travel. Even with reports of the Lothlórien army desecrating Dol Guldur and leaving it for ruin, evil still thrived in the vast woods. Creatures multiplied at an alarming rate, and Elhadron knew this was due to the destruction of Mirkwood. Spiders now dwelt in the treetops where the elves had once claimed it as their own. Lothlórien barricaded themselves within their golden woods, and allowed Sauron’s filth to spawn in profusion.

* * *

Elhadron spoke to the Woodsmen often about his dislike for the Noldorin elves, especially when the village ale was in abundance. He made Folvar swear that if anything were to happen to him, they would not take Legolas to Lothlórien.

“The boy was raised on the beliefs and freedoms of the wood elves. Let there be no mistake of the difference between the two races. They would corrupt his young mind, and have him believing Valinor was the only true elven realm. We do not feel this way. Middle-earth has been home to Silvan folk for many millennia. Our ancestors chose this world as their home without shame, unlike the Noldor. They see this world as their punishment, spending their time longing to return to the Undying Lands. Such teachings would extinguish a wood elf’s coveting for this land. Our hearts and souls yearn for this earth. Now that Mirkwood is gone, who but the child is left to uphold these beliefs? He should know what every Silvan has experienced while calling Middle-earth home … peace and contentment, not penance.” Elhadron made this argument many times until the Woodsmen understood his meaning, and swore to abide by the counselor’s wishes, should the worst happen. “I would see him raised by men before allowing the Noldor to force their convictions upon him.”

Coming to the Woodsmen village was the best thing to happen to Elhadron and Legolas. They fit in quite well, and were accepted as part of the community, especially Legolas. The men seemed quite taken with the elfling. Perhaps it was because the youth had lost his father so early in life, or Elhadron’s determination to see him raised with proper training. Whatever their reasons, the men of the village assumed some of Legolas’ teachings. Kular and Hafdan took it upon themselves to begin Legolas’ training in weaponry. They handcrafted a child’s bow and a wooden practice sword, and started daily lessons not long after.

Legolas was thrilled. As young as he was, he had the makings of a warrior. Kular told him often that he could see the flames of a fighter within his blue eyes. “That right there is part of your pa’s soul that he gifted to you. Feel it, hold on to it, and never forget where you come from,” Hafdan would tell him.

At the age of ten, Legolas was ahead in his abilities. Elhadron told the men that an elfling would have been trained differently at such an early age, slower; however, this was a different situation. Legolas was enthusiastic and a quick learner, every bit the son of a strong fighter.

It was important that Elhadron made sure the elfling knew about his father. The counselor spoke of Thranduil often, though he never used his name or the fact that he was a ruler. He would sit and tell tales of his father’s youth, of how he became a great archer, and of how he captured the heart of Legolas’ mother. The boy absorbed everything Elhadron told him, drawing up images in his mind.

He also gave Legolas daily lessons in elf culture; the Valar, the legends that walked the earth before them, background and histories of Valinor, Mirkwood, Rivendell, Lothlórien and many other important points about elf culture. He should know all there was about the elves, since there was no one else to teach him. The men could train him in weapons and that was fine. Elhadron hadn’t had much practice since he took up employment in the King’s court, and the Woodsmen were well educated in the art of fighting and techniques.

Elhadron had done his best to take care of Legolas, but there were times when only a woman’s attention would help. The young elf would do much better to have a mother figure. Legolas had never known his mother, though at times he remembered hearing a woman’s sweet voice singing to him. Elhadron could do his best to give Legolas the attention and advice of a father, but not that of a mother. Still, there was one village woman who he was sure could help.

* * *

Sefa was one of the village women and the wife of Folvar. She was about her husband’s age, in her late thirties. She had bronze colored hair that ended just below her shoulders, usually tied back loosely. The signs of age had just begun to show in the form of light creases at the outer corners of her brown eyes. She had the kindest most understanding smile that could calm even the wildest stallion. She had been there on the first night that Elhadron and Legolas entered the camp, and she held Legolas while he cried after having the awful nightmare. Something drew her to the elf child, and she took it upon herself to become one of his teachers as well. Sefa decided she should be there for the parts that the men and Elhadron might have left out.

Legolas would probably be on his own someday. He should know how to take care of himself, to cook a meal or to stitch a torn sleeve. In the village, the men depended on the women to do these tasks, thinking nothing of it, but Legolas, being the last of his kind, might find himself alone someday, without the help of a woman. He needed to know as much as possible, so she taught him about herbs for cooking and healing, the basics of sewing, proper cleaning, and other small things that would help him with everyday chores. She also taught him to read Westron, knowing that it would come in handy. It was likely that he would have dealings with many of the different races of Middle-earth, depending on what his future held. Reading the common language was just as important as knowing how to speak it. Besides, she enjoyed the moments she spent with the elf child. Sefa and Folvar had no children of their own, though they tried desperately to conceive. They finally accepted the fact that it just wasn’t written into the stars, that they should have their own family. The villagers became their family instead and they were contempt. Now, having Legolas to shape and take care of, she had a new purpose and did it with great pride.

For an elf of only ten, Legolas’ education was quite advanced, and he soaked up every morsel of information. The brothers, Kular and Hafdan worked with him on his archery, and after a few months, his speed was most impressive, though his aim still needed a lot of practice.

Torlek taught Legolas how to forge different weapons and some animal traps from the natural materials found in the forest. In the event that he did not have his bow with him, there was always something handy on the forest floor that he could use in self-defense. Torlek gave Legolas a small knife to keep with him at all times, and taught him how to turn an ordinary branch into a quick spear. It may not kill an enemy, but it would wound one well enough, allowing the elfling to get away. He also showed him how and where to build a fire, as well as other basic survival skills.

* * *

Legolas often tried to remember his home and his father. Sometimes flashes of his young past would bubble to the surface of his conscience, the large cavernous rooms of the underground dwellings, the paintings that hung in his father’s study, and sometimes the different rings he wore upon his large calloused fingers. Legolas looked at his own hands and wondered when he would earn the mark of an archer like his father, for he swore that he would one day be just like him.

Along with the memories, came the images that haunted him. Some were still very real, especially his father’s sudden death and the orcs. Legolas saw the room quite vividly with its vaulted ceilings and stone columns, the three wooden chairs that lined an altar, and a crown of berries lying on the middle chair. He remembered his father telling him about a secret tunnel in the throne room. That was where they were when it all happened. Elhadron held him as his father kissed his head and told him how much he loved his only son. Then the doors broke from their hinges and his father ran to join the other warriors. Something Legolas had not remembered surfaced. The other elves wore armor, leather shoulder pads and stiff bracers on their arms. His father wore no such armor, only black leggings, boots and a silver shirt that looked like metal. Perhaps he had not been on duty at the time. His father called to Elhadron for him to leave, and the counselor spun around with Legolas in his arms, running for the secret tunnel. Legolas stretched his neck and witnessed his father fighting the orcs, falling to the ground, and then being engulfed beneath a heap of black flesh. The last thing he had seen was his father’s sword coming out of his hand and trailing across the floor. Even now, the sound of metal sliding on stone rang clearly in his mind, and whenever Legolas heard this, he was instantly back in that grand room reliving the last moments of his father’s life.

Five years after the tragedy, Legolas still had nightmares about the orcs. They were lessened a bit, much more than when he first arrived at the man village, but they still haunted him, evil faces black as onyx, flesh that smelled of dead things, yellow eyes and long fangs filling wide mouths, claws for fingers. They were only dreams, yet they paralyzed him with fear. Legolas tried to imagine that he had his small bow and fired arrow after arrow at the beasts, but they did not even flinch. They just kept advancing upon him until they grabbed his legs, and pulled him into a bottomless pit of foul things. He would wake up in a sweat, grabbing at his sheets and crying out. Elhadron was always there to ease his mind and help him back to a kinder slumber with elvish words of comfort. Legolas only pretended to go back to sleep. He could not rest after such vivid nightmares, and lay in his bed staring at the thatched roof of their tree hut until the sun rose.

Elhadron was concerned about these episodes. He thought that they would happen less often as Legolas learned to fight. They had diminished a bit, but when the nightmares returned, they were quite violent. Elhadron knew who to talk to about these outbursts. Sefa was very knowledgeable about rearing the village children. He invited her to his home to discuss it with her. She would be the most sympathetic with his concerns, and she loved Legolas as if he were her own.

After she learned all there was to know about Legolas’ dreams, Sefa smiled, glad that Elhadron had come to her first. She’d had experience with these kinds of things before and offered a solution. “I would suggest that you ask one of the men to make Legolas a talisman, something small that he can keep at his side or under his pillow. Then tell him, when he wakes from these dreams, to reach for his protection, and the apparitions will be frightened away.”

Elhadron smiled, pleased with her advice, “How is it you know so much about children?” he asked.

“My sister had six children of her own. When her husband perished, I helped her raise them. There were plenty of sleepless nights after their father died, particularly the youngest boy. I asked Folvar to make him a wooden dagger to keep with him at night and it worked. That was how Folvar and I met. When he was younger, he was always making the practice weapons for the young boys and starting them in their training. Not only did he make the little dagger, but he inscribed a blessing upon the handle that would ward off any evil spirits. Now my sister’s son is the last remaining at home, but soon he will join with the patrol, just like his father before him.”

“Perhaps I will ask Folvar to make one of these daggers for Legolas,” Elhadron thought aloud.

“I’m sure he would be glad to do it. He is quite willing to do anything for you and the elf child.” She smiled and laid a hand over Elhadron’s arm.

They had been sitting in the elf’s hut, discussing this problem, when Legolas burst through the door, out of breath and golden hair a wild mess. His braids had unraveled, and leaves were tangled within the shoulder length strands. In his left hand, he held his bow and a small quiver, half filled with arrows. “Uncle, you must come at once and see what I caught today.”

“You have caught something?” the elf inquired, “I thought you were at practice today. No one said anything about hunting.”

“We were at practice, Uncle, but while I waited for my turn, I saw a brown rabbit at the edge of the glade. I know how much you enjoy a nice roasted coney, so I snuck off and chased the little creature,” Legolas recited excitably.

“You know you are not allowed to go off on your own. The forest is a dangerous place,” Elhadron scolded.

“I know and Kular has already told me what I did was wrong, until I showed him my catch. That is why you must come and see.” Legolas ignored the counselor’s harsh tone and fled from the doorway.

“Legolas, I am not done here,” the elf yelled as he chased the young boy down the rope ladder and to the ground. There, Elhadron found a half grown wild pig with three arrows protruding from its side. He touched one of the arrows, noticing they were child sized. “You caught this?” he asked stunned, “I thought you said it was a rabbit.”

Just then, Kular strolled up to where they stood by the pig. He ran his large hand through his blond hair, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can honestly say I have never seen the like. I did not think these practice arrows were strong or sharp enough to puncture the skin of a pig. The boy has strength and speed I have not seen in someone so young.”

“It was my first kill, Uncle,” Legolas added.

“And a fine one at that. I must admit that I am quite impressed, but you know it was wrong to run off like that.” Elhadron thought a lesson was more important than bringing down the animal.

“I know,” Legolas said feeling a bit deflated.

“I have told him this too,” Kular added, “But now that I see what he is capable of, I would ask your permission to begin honing his hunting skills. It would seem that Legolas needs advanced training.”

Elhadron regarded Legolas a moment, and the youth gave him his most pleading eyes. “Please, Uncle?”

“Will he be under your command, Kular?”

“Mine and Hafdan’s,” Kular answered.

“Very well, Legolas. You get your wish,” Elhadron informed, and Legolas started jumping for joy.

“But not until we take care of your catch,” Kular added, “The first thing any hunter knows is that you clean what you kill. It is for damn sure the women will not do it. They’ll butcher it and cook it any number of ways, but cleaning they will not do.”

Legolas’ joy was short lived, “You mean I must cut it open?”

Kular smiled, “And clean out the innards, dispose of the waste so that the wolves will not invade our camp, tie it up nice and neat, deliver it to the kitchens and other things I’m sure I’m forgetting to tell you about.”

Legolas looked disappointedly at Elhadron, who smiled in return, “It is all part of your training, remember.”

Kular patted Legolas on his shoulder, “Come now, it’s not as bad as it sounds.” He and Legolas went on their way to tend to their duties.

Sefa joined Elhadron and laughed, “Maybe next time he will shoot the rabbit instead … easier to clean.”

Elhadron shook his head, “Legolas is a very determined youth. He is destined to be a warrior and a great archer at that. So like his father, he is.”

For the next few months, Kular and Hafdan worked regularly with Legolas. They witnessed his improvement at an accelerated rate. No target was too small, but rabbit became a regular meal amongst the Woodsmen.

* * *

Legolas was fitting right in with the men, and he was very proud. There was just one thing that he wished for now. At the end of the week, the men would gather in the hall and share conversation, liquor and smoke. Some of the older village boys were allowed to join, but Legolas was still too young, even though his skills surpassed those of human boys his age. He was very ambitious though, and started sneaking around in the kitchens of the dining hall, usually empty when the men gathered. From there, he could eavesdrop on the different conversations.

Kular was always fun to listen to as he and his brother Hafdan badgered each other, but that’s not what interested him the most. It was listening to Elhadron speak of his life in Mirkwood that intrigued him. His foster uncle had told him many stories, but these tales were the things that Legolas was too young to know about. Elhadron told the men detailed accounts of wars and strategies, of hacking heads from goblins and spilling the guts of orcs. He told them about the ferociousness of the wood elves, of their beauty and deadliness. Sometimes he went on about Lothlórien and the Noldor. Elhadron held a grudge against these elves. He had spoken very little of them to Legolas, but for the fact that they could not be trusted, and that if not for Lórien, Mirkwood might still exist. The young elf didn’t understand at first, but now, hearing Elhadron’s stories as he talked to the men, he started to comprehend why they were so hated by his foster uncle. Lothlórien was called upon and informed of the dangers that were growing in Mirkwood, but they never answered the King’s concerns. When they finally decided to march to Dol Guldur, Mirkwood was attacked. Lothlórien was too far south and invested in the battle at the dark towers to aid Mirkwood, and his home was destroyed. Legolas started to build up his own dislike for the Lórien elves, though he couldn’t help but be curious about them. They were elves after all and a part of Legolas longed to be amongst others like him. Elhadron had made it very clear however, that he should not want this, and that they were better off with the Woodsmen.

This particular night started just like every weekly gathering. Legolas waited until the men and Elhadron were settled in their spots, pipes lit and mugs full. Then he scurried off to his hiding place and listened to the conversations. The smell of ale hung heavy on the air, mingling with clouds of rich smoke. Kular was telling his brother about a lady he had recently met, saying how she was different from all the rest while Hafdan heckled him about not being the marrying kind. Torlek sat with another group of older men, discussing the findings of the week, whether it was ducks migrating through the area or scuffles at their borders. All of this was interesting to a ten year old elfling with an overwhelming curiosity about the world outside of the village, but it was not what he wanted to waste his determined snooping on. Legolas wanted to hear about blood and glory, and he moved to a place close to where Elhadron sat with Folvar and some others. He found his uncle just starting a story about the Battle of the Five Armies, a war in which he said Legolas’ father fought. The elfling listened as the counselor told a tale about a group of dwarves, captured and taken to the dungeons of Mirkwood. According to Elhadron, Dwarves were never to be trusted, even more so than Lothlórien, and the way the counselor described these cave dwellers made Legolas loath them. They were a race of greedy, hairy, angry little men who cared only for their wealth, no matter how they obtained it. Elhadron said it was because of the dwarves that Mirkwood became a main place for attacks from Dol Guldur, saying they brought with them something more evil than anything found lurking in the dark places of the woods. Elhadron was about to tell the men what that object was and who searched for it, when suddenly a messenger ran into the hall, out of breath with a frightful look upon his face.

“The borders have been breached,” the young man informed Folvar. “A group of orcs approached, calling for a meeting. They said that their spies told them the Woodsmen were harboring elves and that if they turned the fair folk over to them, they would leave the village unharmed. Our men told them there were no elves here, but the orcs would not listen. A battle broke out. Many more orcs, hidden within the trees, joined them. They deceived us with their numbers. There were too many, and they broke past our patrols. They are heading towards the village now.”

Legolas fell back against the wall he was hiding behind. Panic set in quickly. His nightmares were coming true. The orcs were coming and they would catch him, claw his flesh and take him away. His fear paralyzed him and he cowered in the kitchen wondering what he should do. Elhadron would go straight to their hut. When he found Legolas was not there, he’d be furious, but that would be a welcomed berating compared to what the orcs could do to him.

He got to his knees and looked over a barrel that sat beneath the kitchen’s pass-through window. The men were gathering their weapons, sheathing their swords and dashing from the hall to take their places amongst the other warriors. Folvar barked out orders to the remaining men, and then turned to Elhadron, “Get Legolas first, and then tell Sefa to warn the women to get to the highest platforms in the trees. She’ll know what to do. You should go with them, Elhadron.”

“I will do as you ask, but let me fight, Folvar. Legolas will be safe with the women and children. Sefa will look after him. You need all the warriors you can find,” Elhadron insisted.

At this, Legolas jumped up from his hiding spot and burst through the kitchen doors, “No Uncle, don’t leave me, please!”

Startled, Elhadron gasped, “Legolas, what are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to listen you your stories and--.”

“There is no time,” Folvar interrupted, “Both of you, get going now.”

Elhadron took Legolas by the hand and led him over the wooden plank bridges that connected the huts to each other until they came upon Folvar and Sefa’s home. Before the elf could knock, Sefa threw the door open, “I heard all the commotion. What is happening, Elhadron?”

“Orcs approach. You and the others should get to the high places,” he warned. Elhadron turned to look down at Legolas, “Will you take him with you?”

“No!” Legolas cried out.

“You should come with us,” Sefa demanded of the counselor.

He shook his head slowly, got down on his knee, and pulled Legolas to him. “I have to go, Little Leaf. The men need every skilled soldier. It would not be right for me to hide and leave the men to fight for us. Remember that when you are older. Remain faithful to those who are faithful to you.” He hugged the elf child, and then sped away.

Legolas watched as Elhadron bound over the bridges, making his way further down to where he would join the men in the battle on the ground. Heated tears pooled in his youthful blue eyes. Sefa pulled Legolas close to her skirts, “Your uncle is very brave. You should be proud of him.”

Legolas nodded in response, wiped the tears away with the back of his hand and breathed deep. Sefa led him away as she warned the other women, and they made their way to the high platforms.
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The Last Wood Elf