Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Chapter 6 - Friends Along The Way

Most of the village stood together at the graves and watched the burial of Elhadron. Sefa and Folvar took Legolas with them to stand at the head of the tomb, each with a hand upon the elfling’s shoulders. Kular, Hafdan and Torlek stood right behind them. The men were all dressed in their fighting gear with weapons at their sides, just as they did for any of their fallen brothers. Elhadron was honored in death as well as in life, as a member of the village and the tribe of fighting Woodsmen. He had shared many of Mirkwood’s strategies for fighting and protecting their people, in hopes that it would help these men. The Woodsmen were richer for having shared in this knowledge, and they started using the new ideas right away. Some said it was because of Elhadron that they were able to fend off the recent orc attack, and the stories of that day would be told for many generations to come.

Legolas watched as the pallbearers carefully placed Elhadron inside the tomb. The graves were simple, naught more than mounds of rock and dirt covered with ivy, each with a large stone to cover the opening. Elhadron’s tomb was still bare, but Legolas imagined that, in time, the fast growing vine would make it look comparable to the others. Some of the women tossed white flowers inside the tomb, an offering to help the soul find its way into the afterlife. One of the contributors, a girl about Legolas’ age, handed him one of her flowers before putting the rest inside the tomb. She gave him a sympathetic smile and went back to her family. Legolas watched her. He had seen her about the village before, but had never talked to her. He wasn’t sure if she had even known Elhadron, but she kindly showed her empathy for Legolas and his deceased uncle.

Sefa leaned down and kissed the top of Legolas’ head, then stepped to the side of the tomb entrance. She started singing a lament to Elhadron in some ancient tongue. The elf child did not know the language, but the sadness in her voice spoke volumes. His foster uncle had touched many more lives than the youth realized. This made Legolas feel closer to the Woodsmen and women. He was not alone in his grief.

After the ceremony, at the closing of the tomb, people slowly faded from the crowd, and went back to their homes to finish packing up their belongings. There was not much time left before they began their journey to the land of the Beornings. Had they not needed to tend to a funeral, they would have been on their way by now. Still, Sefa and the men who knew Elhadron, stayed until all the others had left the gravesite. They gathered around Legolas as if keeping watch over him, unsure of what to expect of a grieving elf. They soon learned that there was no difference between the races in the level of sadness felt for a lost loved one.

Finally, after a long day and many shed tears, Sefa spoke. “We should be going home now, Legolas. Folvar will take you to your hut so that you can gather all of your things. Then you will come and stay with us tonight. Tomorrow we must leave.”

Legolas nodded, but before he left, he remembered something that he wanted to do. He reached for his belt and brought forth the wooden talisman, the dagger Elhadron had given him. He held it in the palm of his hand, examining it as he ran a finger over the carved elvish runes on the handle. This had been his protection from the nightmares that had haunted him. He had seen those dreams become reality, and somehow the dagger no longer seemed to hold its magic. Legolas looked to the tomb, gave a heavy sigh, and laid it in front of the sealed entrance. “I will not need this now. There will be no more nightmares. I do not fear them anymore,” he said softly in Sindarin. He took a step backwards, into the arms of his new foster parents, Sefa and Folvar, and they went back to the tree huts to finish packing their belongings.

* * *

The journey through the forest was full of perils. They stayed on the path as well as they could, but sometimes it was deceiving, and would threaten to send them the wrong way. However, the Woodsmen were experienced scouts and could determine rather quickly whether they were going off course or not.

Sefa kept Legolas close to her as they traveled. Often times, Folvar would ride ahead with the men, and his wife stayed back with the other women and children. Since there were many eyes upon the path, she decided it was best to make sure Legolas stayed cloaked and hooded. There were no orcs in this area of the forest, but there were many spies, crows, snakes and enormous spiders, that would send word to their masters if they should see an elf.

Legolas remained unusually quiet during the trip. If asked a question, he would nod or shake his head, depending on his answer. He rarely smiled, and when he did, it was not more than a curl at the corner of his mouth.

Though there were several children in the village, Legolas had only made a few friends during his time there. Elhadron had spent a lot of time teaching Legolas lessons or seeing to his training with Kular and Hafdan, leaving little time for friendships . Now, because of Legolas’ aloofness, those same children shied away from him. He didn’t want to seem like this, but the loss of Elhadron was so sudden and recent, that he could not help himself. He was afraid his friends would ask too many questions, things he was not ready to speak of yet. The pain was still too new. And so, for most of the journey, Legolas kept close to Sefa or Folvar, choosing silence rather than interaction with the other children. He’d rather reflect on his memories of his foster Uncle at this point.

Elhadron had taught Legolas many things of the elves, and being with him had made Legolas feel closer to his heritage. Now he wondered if he would forget some of these lessons. He used this time to repeat Elhadron’s advice within his thoughts, just to make sure he would always remember who he was and where he came from. Most of all, Elhadron had been the one to make his father seem like a legend, with all of his stories. Legolas remembered him from the few short years he had in Mirkwood, but Elhadron’s accounts made it seem as if he still lived. It sparked his imagination and reminded him of what his father looked like and his mannerisms. Now who would keep those memories alive and vivid? There was no one but Legolas who could do this now.

The traveling party decided to stop for the night and made camp along the forest path. The men went off to secure a tight perimeter around the horses and carts, while the women busied themselves by preparing the evening meal. There was about three hundred villagers altogether, but only half of them traveled now. The elderly and sick stayed behind, as well as a good number of soldiers to protect their home from another invasion. There were still plenty of mouths to feed amongst the travelers. Just because they were on the road did not mean the duties stopped. Everyone had a part to play and no one complained.

While helping to set up the camp, Sefa watched Legolas from the corner of her eye. He hadn’t spoken much since they left the village. His eyes were always downcast, and the frown never left his once bright face. She wished he would seek out his friends, but the last time she encouraged him, Legolas retreated into their tent and remained there until they left the next morning. Sefa sighed, and felt the heaviness of her heart. The poor boy seemed to suffer all alone. Everyone was saddened by Elhadron’s death, but no one grieved more than Legolas. She had to do something, and glanced around the camp, finding a group of older boys gathered on the opposite side. Maybe talking with some of the other boys would help bring him out of his desolation. It couldn’t hurt, she concluded, and stopped what she was doing to talk to Legolas.

He was sitting in a patch of grass, pulling the blades out slowly, one by one, clueless to everything happening around him. Sefa sat down next to him and lovingly pushed the hair from his eyes. “I have not seen you with Balfar or Igwold lately. Don’t you want to spend some time with your friends?” she asked softly.

Legolas shook his head, “I don’t think they want to be around me either. Things changed after the funeral. I guess we don’t know what to say to each other.”

“That’s understandable,” Sefa replied. She picked a piece of long grass and held it between her thumbs. Then she cupped her hands together, and brought them to her lips. She blew air into the small oval space that her thumbs made, where the grass was, and produced a high-pitched squeak. She stopped and laughed as she rubbed her lips, “It tickles.”

Legolas looked at her, the sadness gone from his eyes for the moment, as he tried to figure out how she made the noise. Without speaking, Sefa showed him her trick, step by step. When Legolas tried it, nothing happened. He blew a few more times with no results. Sefa shrugged her shoulders, “It takes a bit of practice to know just where to place your thumbs on your lips.”

Legolas, not one to give up easily, kept trying until he successfully played the screeching sound, then he laughed, “You’re right, it does tickle.”

The noises they made caught the attention of the group of boys Sefa had seen earlier. She noticed them looking in their direction, and cocked her head to the side, “Why don’t you go join the boys? You haven’t spent much time with any of the children since we left the village.”

Legolas glanced at the group. The oldest boy with dark brown hair was Ladnir. He was an instigator, usually convincing the other boys to do his bidding. Often the leader, Ladnir came up with ridiculous challenges that never seemed to end well. His latest dare had to do with one of Legolas’ friends, Balfar, and the stealing of a flask of liquor from one of the kitchen help. Balfar had been successful at swindling the flask, but then Ladnir made him drink its contents. Balfar ended up paying a heavy price for following Ladnir’s orders. The alcohol did not sit well in his stomach. The poor boy spent the night with his head in a bucket, his mother claiming that when he had sobered she would string him up by his ears, and, in the morning, he suffered from a pounding headache. When Legolas asked his friend why he did it, Balfar told him that no one refused Ladnir or they would never hear the end of his ridicule. After that, Legolas avoided Ladnir as best he could. Now, Sefa was telling him to go over and talk to the troublemaker. He shook his head, “I don’t feel like talking to anyone just now.”

“It will do you good, Legolas. You’ve barely spoken a word in days.”

If there was one thing that Legolas knew about Sefa, it was her insistency, or nagging as he had heard Folvar put it. Once she made her mind up, there was no denying her. Funny, Legolas thought, but she suddenly seemed a lot like Ladnir, though he was quite sure his foster mother would not put him into any uncomfortable situations. “Alright,” Legolas agreed reluctantly, “but I’m not going to talk to anyone.”

“Oh, I agree,” she responded, surprising Legolas, “You wouldn’t want to accidentally smile or laugh. What would the others think of you?” She was of course teasing, and Legolas realized how stubborn he was being. The corner of his lips twisted upward, and Sefa covered her mouth with her hand, mocking surprise, “That is exactly the thing you do not want to do or you’ll make a friend for sure.”

Legolas bowed his head and smiled wider. “Thanks, Sefa,” he said quietly as he stood from his grassy spot, and walked to where the boys were playing.

Besides Ladnir, there were three other boys. The youngest was Jorli. He was Ladnir’s younger brother. Even though they were six years apart, there was no mistaking the family resemblance. They had the same straight nose, dark brown hair, and slanted brown eyes. Jorli was not as domineering as his older brother, but he followed along with his antics.

Gelnar was a lanky blond haired boy, the same age as Ladnir. He was quiet, and seemed to associate with Ladnir merely for status. He was not as crass as Ladnir could sometimes be. He was more of an observer, and would speak up when he thought a prank might go too far. He had a talent for suggesting a safer alternative, while letting Ladnir think he was still in charge.

Last of the older boys in the group was Erlend. He was big for a boy of only fifteen, taller, rounder and dimwitted. He had tried to train as a soldier, but his plump frame slowed him considerably. Instead, he helped take care of the horses, and was now the main stable hand. Erlend had a unique ability to speak with the horses, calming them when they were anxious, and they trusted him. Legolas often wondered why Ladnir tolerated this simple-minded oaf. He would have made an easy target for ridicule, but he would also be a relentless pursuer to someone who might have a good laugh at his expense. No one made fun of Erlend’s mental disadvantage or his obesity without learning that he could throw a mean punch. This was his only means of defense against those who would sneer at him. Perhaps Ladnir felt sorry for him. Whatever the reason, Erlend obeyed Ladnir’s orders, and guarded him against those who meant him harm.

Legolas stood back and observed the group of boys for a moment. They had found sticks and were drawing figures in the dirt. Ladnir would draw while the rest tried to guess what it was. Legolas could tell that the other boys were humoring their leader. Some of the figures were too obvious, but they took their time guessing.

The elf stepped up to the group, and watched Ladnir draw some strange creature. He realized right away what it was, but did not say anything as the other boys started guessing.

“It’s a dog isn’t it?” said Gelnar, “It looks just like the one that wandered into the village a while back.”

“It’s not a dog,” replied Ladnir.

“Is it one of the grey wolves that we hear howling at night?” asked his brother, Jorli.

“It’s not a grey wolf,” said Ladnir, “but you are close.”

Erlend pushed away the mass of auburn hair that hung in his eyes and studied the figure for a long while, “Is it a dog?” he finally asked, and the others sighed with frustration.

“Gelnar already guessed that, you numbskull,” Ladnir complained.

Legolas glanced over his shoulder, and found Sefa watching him. She smiled and waved to him. His shoulders slumped in defeat as he turned back to the boys. Well, he thought, if she was going to make him join in, then he wasn’t going be one of Ladnir’s subordinates. He pushed between Gelnar and Jorli, and twisted his neck to get a better look. “It’s a warg,” he said dryly.

The boys all looked at Legolas, surprised to hear him speak. Ladnir eyed him peculiarly, “Yea, that’s. Good guess.” There was a hint of disappointment in his voice. It was obvious that he was not used to anyone guessing correctly on the first try.

“It was more than just a guess,” Legolas blurted out before realizing it. Suddenly, he was the center of attention. He started to feel a little uncomfortable, and took a couple steps backward, but Ladnir was not about to let him get away. He gave a quick nod to Erlend, who took one massive step behind Legolas, blocking his escape. Ladnir stood up from the fallen tree he had been sitting on, and approached the young elf, staring down his straight nose, “So, how could you tell?”

Legolas gulped and pointed to the drawing in the dirt. “The fangs, they are too long to be a dog or a wolf, though its head should be wider, and the hair you drew on its neck should stick up like porcupine quills.” Uh-oh, he thought, too much information.

There was tension in the surrounding air, as Ladnir gave Legolas a scowl for criticizing his artwork. Gelnar sensed it too, and came to stand next to Ladnir. The mediator, Legolas noted mentally. Either Gelnar was intrigued with the elf’s attention for detail, or only playing the part to keep the peace, “You sound like you’ve seen one before, Legolas.”

“I have … and a little too closely. Tried to eat me, but I ducked when it lunged towards me … then it fell into the Enchanted River and drowned in its sleep,” Legolas replied. He hadn’t told anyone that story before. It was something he had tried very hard to forget.

No one said anything as they waited for Ladnir to decide whether Legolas should stay or be chased off. Ladnir gave a half smile, “Enchanted River? Ha, next thing … you’ll be telling me you fought off the demon Shelob.” There was a pregnant pause before Ladnir laughed at his own bit of humor, and the others followed suit.

Legolas did not laugh, but he remembered waking up to the sound of a giant spider trying to work its way into the cave he where Elhadron hid him after escaping from the overthrown palace. He looked Ladnir in the eyes and waited for him to stop laughing, which happened rather quickly. “A lot of things have happened to me since I lost my home and there is nothing funny about any of it.”

Everyone’s mouth dropped open, including Ladnir’s, who was too caught up in the moment to realize what he had said. The other boys were shocked that someone had stood up to their leader. Legolas had had enough. He turned to leave, but Erlend was still blocking his path like a big round boulder. Legolas was afraid to try to slip past him, so he waited for Ladnir to order him to move. Silently, Legolas wished Sefa had left him alone to begin with.

“Hey,” Ladnir said from behind Legolas, but the elf did not turn and remained silent. Ladnir went to Legolas and laid a hand on his shoulder, “Sorry.” He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to. An apology was all that was needed in that awkward moment.

Legolas turned to face Ladnir, “It’s alright.” Apology accepted.

“So … you really saw a warg then?” Ladnir asked a little hesitantly. He was not used to being the one asking questions.

Legolas nodded, and felt the tension start to melt away. He could also see that the other boys were anxious to start asking him their own set of questions. They were just waiting for Ladnir to give some secret signal.

“Hey, you want to come sit with us and maybe you can tell us more … if you want to?” Ladnir asked. That was the signal, because the others gathered around Legolas and ushered him to the fallen log. Eventually, he started to relax and answer them one by one until he told his story of the warg. He thought it would hurt too much to talk about Elhadron, but found it to be very healing. These boys had known Elhadron too, and they grieved for his loss. Soon, they were all swapping stories and learning a little more about each other. Legolas enjoyed sharing, but he was still a little hesitant, only offering conversation after being asked.

Later, a girl ran up to the group of boys, the same girl that had given Legolas the white flower at Elhadron’s funeral. “It’s time to come for supper,” she called to them.

The boys stood from their spots, and started walking away when Gelnar noticed that Legolas had not followed, “You better hurry before the men come to eat or there won’t be anything left, you know.”

“That’s alright. I’m not very hungry anyways,” answered Legolas.

Gelnar, not one to argue, shrugged his shoulders, “Suit yourself then.” He turned and followed the other boys.

Legolas noticed that the girl did not follow. Instead, she joined Legolas, and sat next to him on the log. He did not acknowledge her at first. He had just spent a good deal of time bonding with Ladnir and his friends. Instead, he picked up a stick and started drawing lines in the dirt.

“Are you sure you’re not hungry?” She glanced to his slim frame and skinny arms, “You look like you haven’t eaten in a month.”

Legolas saw her watching him, and glanced to each of his bare arms. “What … I’ve always looked like this,” he said defensively.

“Oh, I didn’t mean anything by it,” she said apologetically. The girl looked over her shoulder, “I better be going. Are you sure you don’t—”

“I’m sure,” the elf blurted out a little harshly, and he watched the girl dash off. He felt bad. He hadn’t meant to snap at her, but he didn’t like people questioning his appearance. He had noticed how big and muscled the Woodsmen were and thought about what the elves looked like. Men looked much stronger and wore their strength proudly. Elves were more lithe and graceful, but their strength lay hidden within. He started to wonder if all humans saw him as weak and lanky.

Sefa was helping to get the children fed, and noticed that Legolas was not among them. She stepped away, and glanced to the spot where he had gone, finding him sitting on a log, alone again. She spoke the girl that she had sent to call the boys to supper. “Did you tell Legolas it was time to eat?”

“Yes ma’am, but he said he was not hungry,” the girl answered.

Sefa sighed and put her hands on her hips, “Well, one thing is for sure about elves. They do not have the voracious appetites of men, but I know they still need to eat.” She broke off a chunk of bread from a larger loaf and picked up an apple, handing it to the girl. “Will you take this to Legolas and tell him that I said he is to eat, or I will have him cleaning up after the horses.”

The girl giggled and took the food from Sefa, then ran off to join Legolas. He looked up slowly to find the girl standing with her hands full. “Here,” she said shoving the apple at the elf, “Sefa said you better eat or else.”

“Or else what?”

She handed him the bread and took a step back. Then she looked to the right and pointed to where the horses stood. “She’s gonna make you clean up after them, and they’ve been eating since we made camp … if you know what I mean.”

Legolas looked to where Sefa stood, and found her watching him. She made a gesture with her hand as if she were shoveling food into her mouth. Legolas raised the apple in the air then took a big bite, exaggerating his moves from across the camp. He could see Sefa smile and shake her head.

“Can I sit with you?” the girl asked.

“Shouldn’t you go back and eat with the others?”

“Oh, I ate quickly. I’m fine,” she answered and sat on the log next to him. As Legolas bit into his apple, the girl stole sideways glances at the elf. His hood had slipped down and the tips of his ears protruded through his fine wheat colored hair. Forgetting her manners, she started to stare.

Legolas felt her eyes upon him and watched her through his peripheral vision. “What is it you find so interesting?” he uttered suddenly, making the girl jump.

“I’m sorry, it’s just … well, I’ve never … oh never mind.”

“You were looking at my ears.”

The girl fidgeted, “Well, yea I guess so. I didn’t mean to, it’s just … I’ve seen them from a distance, but never up close and—”

“They are just ears. I don’t know what is so intriguing about them.”

“They have points,” she admitted.

Legolas reached out and pushed her hair from her ear. “And yours are rounded, but I don’t stare at them.”

The girl shied away from his touch, but regained herself quickly. She readjusted her hair and looked at him again. “Do they do anything? I mean, do they make you hear better or something like that?”

“Do yours?” he asked bluntly and threw his apple core into the bushes.

The girl touched her ears and wiggled them, “No, I don’t think they do.”

“Neither does mine. They are just ears and nothing more.” He tried to ignore her, but she just kept watching him. Well, he thought, if she wasn’t going to leave, he might as well talk to her. “What is your name?”

“Katala,” she answered.

Legolas nodded and pulled a piece of bread from the chunk in his hand and gave it to her.

“Oh no, that is yours,” she refused.

“It’s alright. I won’t eat all of this anyways.” He looked at her thin frame, “You look like you could use more food yourself.”

Katala laughed and accepted the bread. “I guess I deserved that. My mother says I eat too fast, and that’s why I’m so thin.”

They ate in silence for a while then Legolas continued, “I remember you from the burial. I never got to thank you for your kindness.”

“Oh, it was nothing. I … I know what it feels like to lose someone,” The tone of her voice dropped to a whisper. Legolas looked at Katala, tilting his head, “My … my father died a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Legolas said and handed her another piece of bread, but she held her hand up to refuse any more, “Was it orcs?”

“No, he got the fever and never recovered,” She paused and met Legolas’ eyes, “Is it true that elves do not get sick, and that you don’t feel the cold?”

“I guess so. The same things that affect human do not affect elves, but I wouldn’t say that we do not get cold. We are just more tolerant,” Legolas explained.

Katala was a good distraction for him. She asked him many questions about elves and being elvish. It made him feel good to be able to answer her, and he realized that he would never forget his heritage, even without Elhadron to teach him.

With the food gone and both relaxed in each other’s company, Legolas stretched his legs out in front of him, and Katala did the same. He laughed to himself at the way she mimicked some of his movements. At first, he thought she was annoying, but now the elf saw that she was only curious about him, and maybe he felt the same about her.

“Legolas?” Katala asked.

“Hmm.”

“Do you remember your father?”

“Oh yes, very much so. He was a warrior in Mirkwood, very tall with broad shoulders and a stern face that would frighten the enemy just to look at him. But when he was with me, his features were so different, much kinder of course. He always spoke with a soft voice and his smile was most radiant.” As Legolas told Katala about his father, he looked off into the distance as if he could see him standing amongst the trees, “What about you? Do you remember your father?”

Katala smiled and nodded. “He was the most wonderful father. He used to take me on outings sometimes. Mother would always complain, and tell him it was too dangerous, especially during recent days, but Father and I would sneak off to the apple trees. He’d sit me on his shoulders so I could reach the higher fruit. Then he would carry me home that way. It felt like being atop of the highest mountain,” she laughed. “Well, it seemed like that when I was so little.”

“Katala,” someone called from the distance. She looked up to see her mother.

“I have to go, Legolas, but I enjoyed talking with you.”

Legolas gave a half smile. “Yea, so did I.”

Katala started to trot off to her mother, but stopped and looked back at Legolas. “I think I heard someone say we would arrive at the Beorning’s house tomorrow. Maybe you can ride the rest of the way in the cart with me.”

He nodded as his booted foot smoothed away the dirt drawing of a beech tree, “Yea, alright then.”

Katala spun on her toes and ran to her mother. Legolas figured it was time for him to get back too, and made his way to Sefa and Folvar.

* * *

Riding in the cart was not exactly to Legolas’ liking. It was bumpy and jostling, as they seemed to run over every rock and root on the road. He preferred riding on horseback where he could see further, and felt a little more in control, even though Sefa was usually at the reins. He remembered Elhadron complaining about men’s practice of saddling their horses. Elves rode bareback, wanting to give their beasts as much freedom as they could. Legolas swore that when he was older, and finally had his own horse, he would do the same.

For now, though, he rode with Katala in the cart, half filled with sacks of wheat, a gift for the Beornings should they allow the Woodsmen a refuge. Legolas had heard stories of these strange men, but had never seen one and asked Katala about them, “Have you ever seen one before?”

“No, but my father did when he was young. It was many years ago, the last time our people abandoned their home. He said that they are like giants with scraggly black hair and black beards. They are very gruff and large-muscled, but they are also quiet solitary men. But the most amazing thing is their ability to shape-shift.”

“You don’t actually believe that do you?” Legolas said, shaking his head with a laugh.

“And you don’t?” Katala countered. “It’s true you know. They can change form from a man to a bear. It’s one of the reasons why the orcs will not come near their land. They fear the great bear-men and they should. Though they may seem like gentle giants, they are actually quite ferocious fighters when provoked. They wield huge axes, very sharp and deadly. Just one swing can cut the enemy clean in half.”

“I do not doubt their strength or their deadliness in battle, but I’ll believe their form-shifting abilities when I see it,” Legolas laughed to himself.

There wasn’t much to do while riding in the back of a cart, but Katala and Legolas managed to invent their own form of entertainment using a handful of pebbles that she picked up along the way. There was a hole in the bottom where a knot in the wood must have fallen out. They took turns trying to toss their pebbles into the hole. If it didn’t fall through, then they scrambled for the small rock hoping to capture it, allowing the winner more chances at completing their accomplishment. Legolas discovered that Katala was a ruthless game player, often bumping his hand away and gaining the pebble for herself. The pair of friends laughed as they battled for keeper of the missed pebbles. One small stone bounced to the back of the cart and they jumped from their seats on the wheat sacks, crawling and pushing each other away. Katala reached for it first and had her hand on it. Legolas grabbed her wrist and tried to pry open her tight fist, both laughing uncontrollably. Suddenly, the cart took an unexpected bounce due to a large pothole in the uneven road. It knocked Katala off her knees and onto her back. Legolas ended up landing on his stomach next to her, bumping his head on the floor. He sat up and reached for his forehead. Katala, instantly worried, sat up next to him.

“Are you alright? Move your hand and let me see,” she said with concern.

He moved his hand and she looked closely. He was not bleeding. The skin was only scraped, but reddened. While she focused on his head, Legolas examined her at a closer angle. She was a year younger than he was, but she acted much older. Perhaps she had to grow up quicker than other girls her age, due to having no father.

“Is it bad?” Legolas asked.

“Not right now, but you’ll probably end up with a good sized knot on your head.” As she finished examining him, her brown eyes met his shining blue ones and they froze as curiosity took over their thoughts. Katala looked away and moved to the sacks, leaving Legolas sitting on the floor. “You’ll be alright,” she said nervously.

Legolas remained on the floor of the cart, leaned up against the side and brought his knees to his chest. He wasn’t sure what these strange feeling were. He’d never thought of Katala as anything but a friend. Being so close to her, and looking into the depths of her eyes made something change between them, but he wasn’t sure what or why. Perhaps it was some internal elvish intuition, he wondered. If he stared too long, would he hear her thoughts? Strange that he should think he could do anything of the sort. Still, he couldn’t forget the fact that it felt nice to be so close to her. Katala knew things about him that he had not shared with anyone else. In return, she hadn’t said a word. He trusted her, perhaps more than he trusted anyone, besides Sefa and Folvar. It was satisfying to know he could rely on her.

Eventually they settled into a comfortable togetherness, letting the small incident drift away, forgetting the gaze they shared. They were young yet, and these unexpected happenings tended to be dismissed quickly from their youthful minds.

The cart slowed and the riders at the back of the caravan hurried to the front. Legolas and Katala went to opposite sides of the wagon and leaned out over the edge. “I think we’re here,” she informed, and they settled back onto their sack seats.

Legolas sighed and looked at Katala, finding her calm and unconcerned about meeting these giant bear-men with sharp axes, “I hope you’re right about them being friendly.”

Katala laughed, “Legolas, you worry too much.”

They waited until the adults called them. Then they hopped down from the cart and made their way with the other villagers to the home of the Beornings.
A/N: Big thanks to my beta, Minidirith, for all your help.
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The Last Wood Elf