Stories of Arda Home Page
About Us News Resources Login Become a member Help Search

Common Ground  by jenolas

On their arrival at Ithilien, the Wood Elves discovered a large circular shaped clearing, covered with soft grass throughout which flowers of many varieties and hues were sprinkled. The trees that formed the border were tall and ancient and their upper branches intertwined to provide a shady canopy that was thin enough in the centre to allow an unobstructed view of the patterns of the stars once the sun had set. The Elves of Eryn Lasgalen who had chosen to follow Legolas had spent their very first night there and it had since become their favourite place for merrymaking. The shimmer in the air as the warmth of the afternoon sun heated it reminded Gimli that it was but two days until the festivities. The Midsummer feast was to be the first formal occasion to be held in the clearing and because he wanted everything to be perfect for his friend he had come to make a final inspection of the work.

Rather than build a hall in which to hold formal feasts, the Elves had decided that the freedom of the natural setting under their beloved trees was much more desirable. Legolas had conceded Gimli’s point that whilst they were more than happy to sit on the grass while they feasted, it would be appropriate if there were at least some tables and benches for the guests who were expected from Minas Tirith, some of whom may no longer be accustomed to such a casual arrangement. So it was that the Dwarves of Aglarond gifted the Elves of Ithilien several stone tables and benches to place in their outdoor Hall.

The main table was shaped like a large leaf and the others were carved in the shape of large round flowers and were spread out under the trees in a circular formation making the arrangement look like a giant’s garden. The tables were all of a height low enough to be reached by those sitting on the ground, or in fact to also be used as benches if desired. The intricate leaf and flower pattern that was carved into the top of each one was a testament to the craftsmanship of the makers.

It had taken many days of combined effort by Elves and Dwarves to make the clearing into an outdoor Feast Hall, and as well as the tables under the trees, there were now garlands of brightly coloured flowering vines growing around their trunks. A large fireplace had been built in the centre of the clearing and the Elves had made certain that there was still plenty of room left for dancing under the stars.

As he walked through the forest on his way to the clearing, Gimli muttered under his breath about the strange habits of Elves in general and one ‘crazy’ golden haired Wood Elf in particular. It was bad enough, to the Dwarf’s way of thinking, that there were no caves of any sort in the part of the forest where Legolas had decided to build his city, but to make matters worse, the Elves who had come to settle there favoured the flet style accommodations similar to those in Lothlórien; the trees of Ithilien seemed to be full of them, if one knew how to spot them high off the forest floor. Gimli sighed, if the Elf could tolerate visiting his caves at Aglarond, he in turn would suffer the occasional climb into the trees despite his preference to keep his feet firmly on the ground. Smiling inwardly, he amused himself with the knowledge that Legolas had learned many new Dwarfish curses as he spent hours patiently trying to teach his friend the easiest way to climb an Elvish ladder. It had been a mostly unsuccessful venture, for Gimli did not like the ‘flimsy’ rope ladder and a compromise had finally been reached. Leaning against the tree near Legolas’ own flet was a sturdy, wooden, Dwarf-built ladder.

Removing his travelling cloak, he rolled up his sleeves and began the task of inspecting the workmanship, making small corrections to the carvings where he thought it necessary. As he began work on the last one, Gimli noticed that the tabletop was not sitting quite right and he attempted to push the heavy slab of stone into place. After several vain attempts, he thought he felt the stone budge slightly, and as he gathered his strength for one last push, a flash of golden hair caught his eye.

“Legolas!” he called over his shoulder. “How fortuitous that you are here, come and help move this stone.” The Elf approached from behind and with the added strength, the tabletop was placed to Gimli’s satisfaction. “Thank you, that slab was even more stubborn than you are, my friend,” he said turning to face his helper. The colour drained from his face and his smile quickly disappeared as he realised that it was not Legolas whom he was addressing.

“You are welcome, Gimli, son of Glóin. So you think my son is stubborn?” asked the golden haired Elvenking from Eryn Lasgalen. Although they had not yet met, Thranduil easily guessed the Dwarf’s identity.

“I….er…well that is…” Gimli began nervously as soul deep eyes flickering with insult glared at him. “Legolas has been known to be so, King Thranduil,” he finally managed. His father had told him many tales of the King of Mirkwood, as it was once known, and he decided not to let Legolas’ sire intimidate him.

“A fact I can not deny,” agreed Thranduil, casually sitting on the table he had just helped move.

“May I ask what you are doing here? Legolas did not mention you would be coming.” Gimli asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Because he does not know. I intend to surprise him, if it is any concern of yours. I have come for the Midsummer celebrations,” Thranduil replied, looking around the glade and noting the Dwarf’s handiwork before turning his attention to a closer inspection of the tabletop.

“He will be pleased to see you. He often speaks fondly of you,” Gimli said as he sat beside the King and took a swig from his water bottle then offered it to the Elf who declined with a shake of his head.

“As he does of you,” conceded Thranduil as he continued to study the engravings on the tabletop. “The carving is excellent, this pattern of leaves and flowers is much like one Legolas designed when he was still an elfling.”

“Yes, it is the same design. He asked me to use it to remind him of his home, and his Adar,” Gimli said, nodding in affirmation.

“Surprising as it seems, it would appear we actually have something in common,” stated Thranduil as he slowly traced the leaf design with his finger.

“An unlikely occurrence, I agree. To what do you refer?” asked Gimli warily.

“The love and affection of my son,” replied Thranduil seeing acknowledgement of that truth in the Dwarf’s eyes.

“I am on my way to see Legolas, shall I show you to the settlement?” asked Gimli, changing the subject. Thranduil considered explaining to the Dwarf that he knew exactly where to find his son, even though he had never been in these woods, but was saved from such an explanation when Gimli continued. “Although it is probably not necessary, for I recall Legolas telling me that an Elf can easily sense his kin. I suppose he already knows you are here?”

“It is very likely,” agreed Thranduil. “Even could he not feel my presence, he would surely have come across my travelling companions who were eager to reunite with their friends who now live here,” he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. “It is this way, I believe,” he added gesturing towards a barely perceptible path through the trees.

Allowing the King to unerringly lead the way, Gimli followed in silence, his mind in confused turmoil. He knew that Glóin had never forgiven Thranduil for imprisoning him in his dungeons so many years ago, and out of loyalty to his father he had long felt an extreme dislike and distrust of the Elvenking. However since he had come to know Legolas he felt his loyalty was now divided. Gimli had been well aware that there had been spies of the Dark Lord everywhere, and accepted Legolas’ contention that the Elvenking had only sought to protect his realm, that there had been need for caution around strangers in those troubled days. Had Glóin survived the battle to defend Erebor, Gimli was certain that he would not have readily accepted the fact that his son had befriended the son of his enemy. It was apparent that neither did Thranduil. It matters little what either sire might have thought, he decided, The Elvenking was right. Gimli loved Legolas, as both his fellow warrior and his best friend.

As the Dwarf and the elder Elf walked the short distance to where the settlement was located, he wondered how he could have confused the King for his son. True, they both had golden hair and it was obvious that Legolas’ fair features were derived from Thranduil's exceedingly handsome countenance. They were of a similar height and build and the only difference Gimli could actually see was in their eyes. Although they were exactly the same hue, Thranduil’s eyes were filled with a certain hardness and ageless wisdom whereas his son’s shone with the light of one who was still filled with youthful wonder, tempered with just the barest hint of grief. However once in the physical presence of the elder Elf, the difference between father and son was astonishing. The feeling of majesty and power that emanated from Thranduil the like of which he had never felt from Legolas awed Gimli. Well, they look the same from a distance, was the thought that Gimli consoled himself with, hoping that the Elf would not learn that he mistook the King for his son. It was a vain hope, he realised as soon as they walked into the clearing.

“I would have liked to see the look on Gimli’s face when he realised who was really helping him,” said Legolas who was sitting cross-legged on the grass with his back to the new arrivals. The others with him burst into laughter and Gimli sighed; he should have known there would be no keeping a secret from his friend.

“I do not believe I have ever seen such a look of astonishment before, at least not since my encounter with Thorin and his friends,” commented Thranduil with a devilish gleam in his eye. The sound of the King’s voice startled everyone but Legolas. He had already felt Thranduil’s approach and simply turned to face him, a brilliant smile of lighting his face and showing his pleasure at seeing his father again. He rose quickly to his feet and walked over to welcome his sire with an exuberant embrace that was returned with equal enthusiasm and love.

“Hello, Gimli. You are certainly in excellent, if not surprising, company today,” Legolas teased, wondering just what else had transpired between his father and the Dwarf. That they both seemed to be tolerating each other was a good sign he hoped, knowing full well his father’s opinion of Dwarves. It was the main reason he had not yet introduced them, and he admitted to feeling a little relieved that they had now met, however unexpectedly.

“I see you have met my friend Gimli, who is in as good a humour as ever,” he said in a not very private aside to Thranduil.

“Humph,” snorted the Dwarf, as he watched the display of father and son affection. “I hardly expected to find a stray member of your family wandering about in the forest.” Legolas laughed merrily and placed his arm around his friend’s shoulder and winked at his father over the Dwarf’s head.

For his part, the King of Eryn Lasgalen was still not entirely comfortable with his son’s choice of friends. First Legolas and Aragorn had become close, despite his son having been brought up to be wary of the dangers of befriending men. Over the years the Ranger had proven himself loyal and trustworthy and Thranduil could not deny the brotherly affection and comradeship that had developed between the two. He had grown to respect the young soon-to-be king. But the Dwarf! There was such a long history of animosity and unforgivable incidents between Elves and Dwarves in general over the past centuries, not to mention the more recent personal war between himself and Thorin, that Thranduil could not see how any bond of friendship had been possible. Apparently it was, for he saw nothing but genuine love and a deep friendship for the Dwarf in Legolas’ eyes, and in his heart. He could not in clear conscience condone it, but for his son’s sake he would not forbid it. Nor would he speak of it just yet.

“You have certainly chosen a beautiful part of the forest to settle, Legolas,” said Thranduil as he cast his eyes over the clearing and into the trees. Inclining his head to the well-hidden platforms above, he added, “I see you favour flets for your accommodation.”

“Yes, it is wonderful to be able to live safely in the trees and under the stars once more now that the darkness has lifted. Come, I will show you mine,” he said taking his father by the arm, his enthusiasm eliciting a smile as memories of his son as an elfling flashed through Thranduil’s mind. “You are welcome to come too, Gimli,” he added.

“As much as I would like to, I fear I must return to Minas Tirith for now. There are still several projects needing my attention. I will see you at the banquet,” he said as he made to take his leave. Turning to speak to Thranduil, he bowed respectfully and said, “I am pleased to have finally made your acquaintance, King Thranduil. I bid you farewell.” In a few moments the Dwarf had disappeared into the forest, leaving father and son alone.

“It is a strange position I find myself in,” mused Thranduil as he easily climbed the rope ladder to Legolas’ home, smiling as he noticed the sturdy wooden ladder that was obviously for Gimli’s use.

“What do you mean, Adar?” asked Legolas curiously as he silently offered Thranduil a chair and a glass of wine, almost choking on his own with his surprise at his father’s next words.

“I believe I might be actually learning to like your friend Gimli!”

“You! Feeling friendly towards a Dwarf!” he spluttered. Even taking into consideration his acute elvish hearing, Legolas could not believe what he had just heard. “That is extraordinary, but pleasing to hear. May I ask what prompted this change of heart?” he asked as his coughing fit eased and his composure was restored.

“Do not misunderstand, Legolas. My opinion of Dwarves has not altered; I simply find that I am less inclined to hold your friend in low esteem. In the short time we have been acquainted I have seen that he is very loyal to you and values your friendship greatly. Your affection for each other is obvious. Also, I cannot help but begin to feel a slight fondness for one who is in no way intimidated by me. It makes for a refreshing change,” stated Thranduil, in such a way as to make Legolas uncertain as to whether he was speaking seriously or simply jesting. A slight twitch of Thranduil’s lips as he tried to hide a smile convinced him of the latter.

“That is very gracious of you, Adar, but I feel I should inform you now that there will be several other Dwarves at the feast tomorrow night. Unlike Gimli, probably all of them will feel intimidated by the evil Elvenking of their father’s stories,” he said light-heartedly.

“Well, they have nothing to fear from me, after all, there are no dungeons here, are there?” he asked playfully, the mischievous gleam in his eye matched by that in his son’s.

“Only because Gimli refused to build them,” joked Legolas in return, causing Thranduil to laugh uproariously. “He did, however build several other structures for us, would you like a tour of the settlement?”

“Yes, I would. I have already seen the work the Dwarves have done on your outdoor banquet Hall, it is very impressive,” commented Thranduil.

“I have yet to see the completed work. I promised Gimli that I would not spoil his surprise by ‘peeking’ as he put it, until tomorrow night.”

“Then I will say nothing further on the matter,” said Thranduil, now directing his gaze to the ladder propped against the tree. “I take it that your friend stays here at times?” he asked, pointing to Gimli’s means of access to the flet.

“Quite often. I have several small guest rooms, but you are welcome to use my own chamber if they do not suit your taste,” he offered, suddenly realising how primitive his dwelling was compared to the King’s Hall in Eryn Lasgalen. “Come, I will show you to one.” Thranduil was surprised at the actual size of Legolas’ home, and was enchanted with the beauty that was part of every room. The guest room was no less impressive.

“I feel as though I have had walked into a cave made of branches and leaves,” said Thranduil with admiration in his voice as he entered the room Legolas indicated and cast his eyes over the chamber. Rather than walls, the branches of the close standing trees were somehow bound together, forming a living screen that provided privacy as well as a shield from the elements, yet allowed the light of the sun, or the moon to enter the room. The soothing sound of the whispering leaves added to the peaceful aura of pale greenish glow of the dappled shadows that danced on the floor as the midday sun filtered through the leaves. At one end of the room was a large, comfortable looking bed, a dresser and a wardrobe, and at the other a small table separated two large armchairs. The simple yet elegant furniture merely enhanced the total beauty of the room, but what truly amazed Thranduil was the ceiling. He watched in fascination as Legolas pulled on a cord near the bed, drawing back the almost invisible cloth that formed the ceiling, allowing the sunlight to stream in. The effect was stunning, and would have been even more so at night, the Elvenking supposed, when unhindered starlight would fill the room and he could allow the serenity of the stars to lull him to sleep. “The guest room will be more than adequate, and I am now more than eager to see the rest of your settlement.”

“As you wish,” agreed Legolas. “Follow me.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon inspecting the various sections of his village, and Legolas was surprised at the interest and knowledge Thranduil displayed in even the most mundane places, such as the common kitchen and the bathing rooms. The work of the Dwarves was evident in both, for they had not only constructed functional structures such as the large oven, or the pool-like baths, but their work was elaborately carved to be pleasing to the eye as well.

The tour finally complete, the two Elves made their way back to the flet and Thranduil was pleased to see that someone had thoughtfully set out a light meal for the two of them on the table in his room. The mood was relaxed as they sat and enjoyed their repast, until Legolas felt the need to satisfy his curiosity.

“You know so much about the basics of building a new village, Adar. What do you think of this one?” Thranduil smiled indulgently as he explained.

“I am most impressed; it is both well designed and aesthetically pleasing. As far as my interest and knowledge is concerned, have you been away from home for so long that you have forgotten that your grandsire also founded a new colony, in a forest that once looked much like this?” he asked, indicating their surroundings with a wave of his hand. “We started from nothing, just as you have and who do you think helped in the building?”

“Of course I have not forgotten, I simply failed to see the analogy, for I am not a king, and Ithilien is not as great a forest as Greenwood once was,” responded Legolas.

“ I suppose the connection is a little difficult to make, especially when you consider that you have established your village to allow you to be closer to Men and Dwarves, and Oropher’s intention was to move as far away from them as possible,” admitted Thranduil. “However, I think what you have already accomplished here is even greater, for you have not only relocated your people, but you have given new life to this place that was made desolate by the shadow. I am very proud of all that has been achieved here, as you should be.”

“Thank you, Adar, but I could not have done this without your encouragement, and that of all of my friends,” stated Legolas, obviously referring to Aragorn, Faramir and Gimli as well as his elvish friends.

“I do have another observation to make,” continued Thranduil, a note of melancholy creeping into his voice. “Everything that has been built here seems to have a somewhat temporary feel to it, as if nothing is intended to be permanent.”

“Nor should it be. The rejuvenation of the trees and other plants is everlasting, but before too much longer, only the growing things will remain,” replied Legolas, a far away look coming into his eyes as an air of sadness descended and Thranduil imagined that he could feel the salty tang of the sea breeze that would soon separate them. Gently lifting Legolas’ chin so that their eyes met, he offered what comfort he could.

“What lies ahead is beyond your control, but do not let thoughts of the future mar the present. Your friends will be here tomorrow night to help you celebrate Midsummer; I suggest you cherish your time together, for even after they are gone, their memory will live forever in you, no matter where you are. Make those memories pleasant ones."

The morning of the banquet dawned bright and clear, with not even a wisp of cloud to be seen in the early morning sky. A shimmering heat haze could already be seen hovering in the main clearing of the settlement, the fresh air warmed by the heat of the Midsummer sun.

"I think it will be a clear, warm evening, judging by the by the brilliant blue of the sky today, and the brightness of the star shine last night," commented Thranduil as he and Legolas walked to the kitchen where breakfast was being served early to allow the cooks time to prepare the banquet. “It appears that the weather is going to favour your celebration.”

"Did you sleep at all, or did you just stay awake all night watching the stars?" Legolas asked, as he affectionately clasped his father's shoulder. Taking Thranduil's slightly raised eyebrow to indicate the latter, he laughed merrily. "Well I hope your prediction about the weather is correct, for although we Elves would not be bothered by summer rain, I am certain that our guests would not appreciate it," said Legolas as he opened the door to the dining hall and ushered Thranduil inside. A respectful silence descended as they entered the dining hall, and all present rose and bowed to their King, who suddenly decided that such formality was rather incongruous in the very relaxed atmosphere of this realm. With a conspiratorial wink at his son, he cleared his throat and announced,

"Since I have your attention already, I hereby decree that normal courtly etiquette towards me is no longer to be observed for the duration of my stay. You may address me simply as 'Thranduil'. It is still required behaviour however, for the royal guests of Gondor who will be here this evening."

"I think Aragorn and Arwen will be here sooner than that, I am expecting them to arrive within the hour," said Legolas as he helped himself to some fresh fruit juice.

"I thought his name was now Elessar?" enquired Thranduil.

"King Elessar he is to his subjects, but he still prefers to be called Aragorn by his friends," explained Legolas.

"I see. I suppose Gimli will also be here early? Will the other Dwarves be coming with him?" asked Thranduil, unable to decide on the sliced peaches or the fresh bread rolls and cheese and finally taking a serving of each.

"Yes, to both questions. If you wish to avoid them, I suggest you keep away from the stream that flows a short distance from here. They will be making their camp amongst the large boulders on the bank. I am afraid that is the closest place we have to a cave in these woods."

"I will keep that in mind. Now, on to something more important; I know you were not expecting me, and must have your own plans for the day, so is there anything I can do to help with the preparations?" Thranduil asked, glancing around to see the bustling activity that had already begun in the kitchen. Legolas frowned slightly, trying to think of something, but nothing came immediately to mind.

"I think everything is well in hand, Adar, why not just relax and enjoy the fair weather?" Thranduil looked doubtful, even someone with his extensive experience in organizing banquets often missed some important detail, and Legolas had he suddenly realised.

"Everything, you say? Where are you setting up the pavilion for the ladies accompanying Aragorn and Prince Faramir?" Legolas looked utterly bewildered for a moment, a pavilion? Noticing his son's confusion, Thranduil asked a rather pertinent question. "Surely you do not expect them to be able to climb up to the flets to refresh themselves, dressed as they will be in all their festive finery?"

"I had not thought of that," his son admitted. It was not normally a problem, for both Arwen and Éowyn loved climbing up to his flet and always came appropriately dressed. It would be difficult for ladies in ball gowns to use the rope ladders he realised, thinking of the gown with its voluminous skirts that Arwen had been wearing the last time he attended an official function in Minas Tirith. The maids of his community had no such problem, for they always wore lightweight dresses that enabled them to dance unhindered or to easily climb their trees.

"Considering your lack of experience in preparing a banquet and the finer points of a lady's attire, it is not surprising. I will take on the task of seeing to their comfort as soon as I have delivered the many letters and packages I was given to bring to various of your fellow settlers," offered Thranduil with an almost elfling-like eagerness.

Thank you, Adar. Your presence here is not only pleasing, but also fortuitous. If you think of anything else I have forgotten to do, please feel free to rectify the situation," said Legolas sincerely grateful for the assistance. Just then the sound of a deep, gruff voice boomed across the clearing.

"Where is that crazy Elf? He better not have gone to the glade without me!" the Dwarf declared loudly, ignoring the amused smiles of tolerance of those around him; the Elves of Ithilien were quite used to such an outburst from their leader’s friend.

"Ah, Gimli has arrived," said Legolas unnecessarily. He walked to the open window near where he was sitting and called loudly; "I am in the dining hall Gimli, come and have some breakfast!" The Dwarf was slightly startled to see Thranduil also seated at the table, but he covered his surprise well by taking a place beside the King and politely enquiring if the King had slept well.

"I had sufficient rest, thank you," replied Thranduil. "And you?"

"Slept like a stone!" Gimli laughed, amused by his own words. "Is Aragorn here yet, Legolas?" he asked as he helped himself to a large portion of scrambled eggs.

"No, but he will be here shortly," replied the Elf. "Where are the rest of your friends?"

"Setting up camp by the stream. I do not think they will venture into the settlement today, they have heard your father is here," Gimli said looking slightly embarrassed and trying to avoid Thranduil's displeased glare.

"You may inform the Dwarves that I intend to have absolutely nothing to do with them," he said coldly, his demeanour making him appear like the Sindarin warrior he had once been and emanating an aura of majestic and absolute power. "However, you may also warn them that I will not tolerate any interference with our celebrations, nor any disrespectful behaviour towards my son, his guests, or myself! Now, if you will both excuse me, I will see to the matters we were discussing earlier," he said to Legolas. As he stormed out of the room, he did not even notice that all activity had ceased and there had been utter silence as the Elves watched their King display his awesome power.

"My father was right, the Elvenking can be very intimidating when he chooses," said Gimli staring thoughtfully after the departing Elf.

"It was no idle threat he made and all the Elves here will support any action he might take," said Legolas seriously. "I think we had best make sure there is no reason for a confrontation between your friends and my father, or our efforts at rekindling a friendship between our races will be in vain."

"Have no fear, we will behave, even if just to spite your father," said Gimli with a wicked smile. "So how is your 'surprise entertainment' coming along? Have you finished it yet?"

"My part is complete but I am still waiting for you and Aragorn to provide me with the final sections. Come and see how you like it so far," he offered. Legolas watched with some amusement as Gimli climbed his wooden ladder, but when he saw the Dwarf's foot slip on the rung, he reached out with elvish reflexes and hauled him up onto the floor.

"I warned you the rungs would become slippery with the morning dew," Legolas said as he poured the Dwarf a glass of wine to ease his shattered nerves. Before realising what he was drinking, Gimli proceeded to down it in a single gulp. He screwed his face in disgust at the taste.

"And I told you Dwarves only drink ALE and are not meant to climb trees! Perhaps we should both heed each other's advice in future," suggested Gimli. They were both still laughing as they heard Aragorn and Arwen below, apparently involved in a difference of opinion.

"That Elf we just passed was Thranduil, I tell you. I have known him for many years, there is no mistaking him," Aragorn insisted rather forcefully.

"Are you sure? He certainly looked a lot like Legolas to me," replied an equally adamant Arwen.

"Hah!" exclaimed Gimli, "Even Arwen made the same mistake, and she at least has seen him on many prior occasions."

"Not for many centuries, though. I must go down there and greet them, and put an end to their squabble. Are you coming?" Legolas asked, guessing correctly that Gimli would prefer to stay where he was.

"Are you insane? After the trouble I just had climbing up here?" Gimli asked, refusing to let the Elf's teasing bother him. The Dwarf walked over to the edge and peered down to where Aragorn and Arwen were waiting. "Hello, you two, it is a lovely day for a feast, is it not?" he called over the edge of the flet just as Legolas nimbly jumped down and landed beside Arwen who smiled up at Gimli before turning her attention back to the Elf.

"That was Thranduil I saw over by the dining hall, right Legolas?" Aragorn asked as Arwen reached up to kiss Legolas' cheek by way of greeting.

"Yes, he arrived unexpectedly yesterday. Ask Gimli to tell you the tale of how they met, it is quite amusing," said Legolas, ignoring the scowl he could feel boring into his back from above.

"Later, perhaps," Aragorn replied, waving a scroll under Legolas' nose. "I am eager for you to see the finished product. You will excuse us, my love?" he asked, gently brushing his lips across the back of his wife's hand.

"Of course," replied Arwen who had her own plans for the day. The Queen of Gondor was a regular visitor to Legolas' community, and had quickly made several friends. "I will see you all later, I see my friends are waiting for me,” she said, waving to a group of elf maids who were walking in the direction of the glade. They stopped and waited for her, greeting her warmly with hugs and much laughter.

Legolas and Aragorn quickly climbed the rope ladder and soon the three friends were deeply engrossed in perusal and discussion of Aragorn's scrolls and the ones of his own that Legolas retrieved from his study. After several hours, they had completed their work and were highly satisfied with the final result.

"It will be a fitting finale to the evening," said Legolas, leaning back casually into his chair and casting his eyes over the work once more.

"Yes, it will," agreed Aragorn as he leisurely sipped his wine and asked in as innocent tone as he could muster, "Now Gimli, will you kindly tell me how you came to meet Thranduil?"

*********

Meanwhile, Thranduil had finished delivering the various messages and packages he had brought from Eryn Lasgalen, and was proudly surveying the pavilion he and a few eager volunteers had erected in the shade beneath the canopy of a very large and ancient oak tree. He had used a large piece of the same cloth that formed the ceiling in his room, hanging it over two of the lower branches, and then pegging the edges of the cloth to the ground thus forming a simple tent with the soft grass as a floor. A selection of pillows and blankets were spread about inside, and a small table on which stood a water pitcher and basin was placed well away from the entrance. The combination of the thick canopy overhead and the elven fabric provided a cool haven from the increasing heat of the summer’s day and he was certain it would meet with the approval of the ladies.

Deciding that a nice, cool bath was next on his agenda, Thranduil thanked his assistants and turned back in the direction of Legolas’ flet to collect some fresh clothes and his bathing accessories. As he climbed the ladder, he heard merry laughter as Gimli finished his account of their unexpected encounter.

“Well, at least you have made a truce of sorts with my father, and only after one meeting. It may interest you to know it was many years before he accepted Aragorn as my friend,” said Legolas, the mutual affection and many shared memories in his eyes mirrored in those of his human friend. “Ai, Adar, have you finished building already?” Legolas asked seeing Thranduil hovering in the open doorway.

“Yes, all is in readiness,” he answered before turning to acknowledge the King of Gondor. “Greetings, King Elessar,” he said with a barely perceptible nod of his head. “I trust you and your lovely Queen are both well?”

“Greetings to you, Your Majesty, and yes we are both well, thank you,” he responded. “There is no need for such formality amongst friends, please just call me Aragorn.”

“As you wish. You must just call me Thranduil,” he said, frowning slightly as his keen hearing picked up the distance sound of slowly walking horses. “I believe I hear horses approaching,” he said turning to Legolas who had also heard.

“I expect that will be Faramir and his party, they wanted to arrive before the heat of the afternoon,” he explained. “I must go and greet them. Come, Gimli, we will set up some tables and chairs in the shade so that you do not have to keep climbing the ladder.”

“At last, a sensible idea,” grumbled the Dwarf as he followed the others to the forest floor below. After warm greetings were exchanged between the friends, Legolas introduced Thranduil to Faramir, Éowyn and Imrahil.

“It is an honour to meet the Woodland King,” said Imrahil, offering Thranduil the elven form of greeting. “I hope we can find some time to become better acquainted, for I have heard much about you from your son.”

“The honour is mine, and I am at your disposal,” answered Thranduil, surprising everyone except Legolas with the respectful tone he used to address the Prince of Dol Amroth.

“Éomer sends his apologies, but he has an urgent matter to deal with and is unable to be away from Edoras at present,” said Éowyn.

“Nothing serious, I hope?” asked a concerned Aragorn. “I have not received news of any trouble in Rohan.”

“Just a minor border scuffle with some rebels, I believe,” explained Faramir casually dismissing the subject. “Did Arwen accompany you, I have not seen her?”

“My lady has deserted me for her elven friends,” said Aragorn feigning a broken heart and making the others smile. “She feels almost as much at home here as you do, Faramir,” he added taking the opportunity to tease his Steward. Faramir merely shrugged, for everyone knew he spent much of his spare time with Legolas and his friends.

“Enough of this friendly chatter,” declared Gimli. Let us set up those tables you mentioned, Legolas. I have a thirst for some ale, and I need somewhere to place my tankard.” Legolas laughed heartily and clapped the Dwarf on the back.

“My apologies, friend Gimli, I will see to your comfort at once.” So saying he quickly organised the tables and chairs as well as a light meal for the travellers. Soon everyone was seated and the conversation turned to news and a discussion of the progress of the various restoration projects still being undertaken in both Minas Tirith and Ithilien.

“It appears the party has begun without me, have you room around the table for one more?” Arwen asked coyly as she entered the clearing, welcoming the new arrivals with a smile. Aragorn quickly made a place for her and she eagerly joined in the conversation.

“There is always a place for one of such beauty,” answered Thranduil. “Although it is many centuries since our paths last crossed, you are even lovelier than I remember, Arwen.”

“Thank you, Thranduil; it is a pleasure to see you again. It is wonderful that you could find time to share this celebration with Legolas, and all of us,” she said, her smile enhancing the sincerity of her words.

 


The afternoon air was becoming exceedingly warmer and oppressive and although the elves were not affected, both Arwen and Éowyn, who were dressed in their evening finery, were beginning to look decidedly uncomfortable, a fact that did not escape Legolas’ attention. With a quick glance at his father, a few words of silent communication were passed between them, and Thranduil nodded agreement.

“My ladies, Thranduil has organised a pavilion where you can refresh yourselves and perhaps take a rest before the festivities, if you so choose,” suggested Legolas.

“Sounds wonderful, does it not Éowyn?” Arwen asked her friend.

“Yes, I would like the opportunity to rest a little,” agreed Éowyn.

“Then allow me to show you the way, ” said Thranduil, gallantly offering each of them an arm. As the three moved off in the direction of the pavilion, Arwen and Éowyn giggled girlishly at something Thranduil said to them.

“It seems that your father has already charmed the ladies,” commented Gimli as he watched them disappear into the forest. “Perhaps you could learn a thing or two from him.”

“Really, Gimli, I need no such lessons from Adar, although I know he can be exceedingly charming when he chooses,” scoffed Legolas.

“I have to agree. Legolas learning how to be charming is hardly necessary,” laughed Aragorn. “You know as well as I that his problem is not attracting the maids, it is keeping out of their reach.” The sound of their laughter echoed across the clearing.

“It is getting late and I am afraid I have matters to attend to,” said Legolas draining the last of his wine as he rose to leave. “I must ensure that all is in readiness for this evening. Faramir can show you to guest rooms, or the bathing pools when you are ready, he has used them both quite often,” said Legolas with a smile for his most frequent visitor.

“I must also return to my camp, I have yet to deliver Thranduil’s message to my folk,” said Gimli, his mood growing dark as he recalled thinly veiled threat he had received earlier from the Elvenking. With a nod to the others, he stalked off in the direction of the Dwarf’s camp.

“I take it the rift between Elves and Dwarves is not yet fully healed,” commented Imrahil astutely, catching Legolas’ attention.

“I am afraid not as far as Adar is concerned. He is willing to accept Gimli as my friend, but that acceptance does not extend to other Dwarves,” answered Legolas.


“A small concession is better than none, especially considering the history between the two races,” said Imrahil.

“Do you know much about it?” asked Faramir, suddenly interested in the conversation.

“A little,” replied Imrahil enigmatically.

“Would you tell me what you know? I am very fond of history and lore, but there is much that is not in the archives of Minas Tirith.”

“Very well but if you find Thranduil to be in an approachable mood, I would suggest you ask him as well, after all he has first hand experience,” suggested Imrahil. “So, where shall I begin…?”

“Aragorn, would you care to join me?” asked Legolas pulling his friend aside as Imrahil began speaking to Faramir, certain that his friend had little interest in the conversation it appeared that the two Princes would be well occupied with for some time. “I am going to the kitchens to make sure that the food preparations are on schedule, and to help with the selection of wines from Adar’s cellars.” To his immense delight, Thranduil had sent a large selection of his favourite wines as a Midsummer gift to his people in Ithilien. That his father had decided to travel from Eryn Lasgalen to share in the celebration was an even greater gift that warmed Legolas’ heart.

“It would be my pleasure, I find history to be a very dry subject,” said Aragorn lightly, placing a companionable hand on the Elf’s shoulder as they walked. Legolas groaned at the jest, then stopped and turned to speak to Faramir and Imrahil.

“The banquet starts at sunset. I trust you two will find your way to the glade on time?”

Faramir’s silent nod was not very reassuring.

“Do not be concerned, Legolas,” said Aragorn with an amused gleam in his eye. “If Éowyn is anything like my Arwen when it comes to ensuring punctuality, they will not dare to be late!”

Finally the shadows began to lengthen and the stifling heat of the summer afternoon gradually cooled, filling the glade that served as the banquet Hall with the warm, sweet scented breath of evening. The soft red glow of the sun’s dying rays slowly departed as the darkness of night won the battle for the sky and one by one the glittering silver lights of the stars winked back into existence, twinkling with delight at once more being able to be seen by their children in the world below.

All was in readiness for the Midsummer celebration, Ithilien’s first in the new Age.

The lanterns were lit high in the trees above and despite the warmth of the night, the friendly flames of a small fire danced in the centre of the fireplace. The stone tables in the outdoor Hall were now laden with the food that had been prepared for the banquet. There were platters of various meats, roasted and flavoured with herbs and spices, fresh vegetables cooked in creamy rich sauces, freshly baked bread rolls and many assorted pastries and delicacies for desert. On one of the smaller tables were vats of wine, ale and cider and it was around a table in this part of the glade that it suited Gimli and the other Dwarves to sit. They had already filled their tankards and were singing a merry drinking song, obviously already enjoying themselves immensely.

Aragorn and Arwen were seated at the main table speaking to one of the Elves from Eryn Lasgalen who had accompanied Thranduil on his journey to Ithilien. With a smile and a polite nod of the head, he wandered off to join his friends just as Éowyn, Faramir and Imrahil arrived, the two men still seemingly involved in the discussion of history that they had begun earlier that afternoon. Éowyn sat next to Arwen and soon the two women were laughing and making light conversation as they awaited the arrival of Legolas and Thranduil. Éowyn was mesmerised as she watched the Elves glide about the glade, laughing and singing, for in the ever-increasing darkness the pale luminescence of their light made them appear like moonbeams dancing in the forest. “They truly are Fair Folk, as you call them,” Éowyn whispered to Faramir, who was seated on her other side. Her eyes widened in amazement as Legolas and Thranduil entered the glade, for father and son shone with the same light as their kin.

Despite his request for informality during his stay in Ithilien, Thranduil had nevertheless dressed formally for the important celebration of Midsummer. He wore his usual robes of deep green velvet embroidered with leaves of gold, and his golden hair flowed free of braids, held in place by his beloved crown of leaves. Legolas had decided that more informal attire truly reflected the spirit of his settlement and had chosen a pale green overshirt made of a very fine satin that fell midway down his thighs. His shirt was belted at the waist but he had left several buttons undone, allowing a small part of his chest to be exposed to the starlight. His leggings were of similar green velvet to his father’s robes and his feet were bare, ready for an evening of dancing on the soft grass. As a small concession to his station as the King’s son, his unbraided hair was adorned with a circlet formed from a single chain of fresh leaves.

Thranduil took his place of honour at the head of the table and watched with the others as Legolas walked slowly around the glade, inspecting everything for the first time since the work had been completed. He stopped occasionally to compliment his friends for their part in the decorating of their outdoor Hall and he ensured everyone knew how exceedingly pleased he was with the final result of the combined effort of the Dwarves and Elves.

“You and your friends have outdone yourselves, Gimli,” Legolas declared his voice filled admiration for the skill of the workmanship, as he finally reached the table where the Dwarf sat. “The carvings are exquisite and exactly as I drew them,” he exclaimed. “There are no words to thank you for such a wonderful gift!” Legolas added, surprising everyone by kneeling down and giving the Dwarf a friendly hug.

“Yes…well…your reaction is more than enough thanks,” stammered Gimli, slightly flustered by Legolas’ unexpected display of affection, and also a little self-conscious as he noted the looks of shock and disbelief on the faces of his companions. Not that he could blame them for such a reaction after having been told of Thranduil’s threat; the last thing any Dwarf would have expected to see was such a display from the Elvenking’s son.

“May I suggest that you continue to admire this excellent setting, after we have eaten?” suggested Gimli, successfully hiding his discomfort from the Elf.

“That is the kind of question I would expect from a Hobbit, not a Dwarf, ” teased Legolas with a merry twinkle in his eye. “However, I officially announce that the festivities have commenced!” He proclaimed to everyone after he had taken his place at the main table.

To the delight of all, the musicians had formed into two separate groups, taking turns to enjoy the feast and play, so that the sweet elven music added to the merry atmosphere of the banquet. There was much laughter and light-hearted jesting amongst the elves and almost all of their guests. The occasional dark look that passed between Thranduil and the Dwarves did not go unnoticed, but Imrahil expertly drew the elder Elf’s attention away from them with a well-timed question.

“What do you think of the settlement your son has established here, Thranduil?” he asked refilling the King’s goblet as well as his own. “I would think it would not be dissimilar to the beginnings of Oropher’s colony in Greenwood.”

“Very astute. Yes, as I told Legolas earlier, it reminds me very much of our village in Greenwood. Although our dwellings were mostly on the ground, the conditions were just as rustic, and the lifestyle just as uncomplicated. I am pleased with the achievements of Legolas and his friends and that the forest is rapidly regaining its beauty,” replied Thranduil, scowling slightly as he saw Legolas, Faramir and Aragorn, join the Dwarves at their table.

“It seems old alliances have been renewed, does is it not?” Imrahil asked as his eyes followed Thranduil’s gaze.

“Yes,” agreed Thranduil, without further comment. “Speaking of alliances, I hear your daughter wed the young King Éomer?” Imrahil nodded eagerly allowing the conversation to turn to a much safer topic, a discussion of his own family.

*******

As the feasting neared an end and most of the tables had been cleared of the little food that remained uneaten, the music became livelier, inviting the dancing to begin. The two ladies of Gondor watched the graceful elegance of the Elves as they danced and Arwen found herself wishing she had worn a gown of lightweight material, for the evening was still warm and some of the dances were quite fast paced. However, for the moment her dress was not a concern as both she and Éowyn had lost their dance partners to the Dwarves. There seemed to be some kind of dispute occurring between Aragorn and one of Gimli’s friends.

“I wonder what that is all about?” Arwen asked as raised voices could be heard drifting across the clearing.

“It seems that our gentle Men have become involved in an argument of some kind,” answered Éowyn also turning to look towards the other side of the glade. Thranduil also heard the uproar, and excusing himself from his conversation with Imrahil, he stormed over to the group, his eyes flashing with anger. Had he not warned Gimli that he would tolerate no trouble from his friends?

“What is the meaning of this disturbance?” he shouted as Aragorn and one of the Dwarves glared aggressively at each other. The power and fury in his voice silenced everyone instantly, even stopping the music. There was no answer, which only infuriated the Elvenking more. “Legolas?” It was more of a demand than a simple question.

“Apparently there is some dispute as to whether Men or Dwarves are less prone to becoming drunk,” he replied, trying to be as tactful as possible. “Aragorn and Faramir have been challenged to a drinking contest with the Dwarves to decide the matter.”

“Only a Dwarf could suggest such nonsense!” exclaimed Thranduil. “I would think you two,” he said to Aragorn and Faramir, “would much prefer to spend the evening dancing with your lovely ladies, than becoming involved with such lowly behaviour.”

“It has become a matter of honour, something you would not understand,” declared Aragorn’s antagonist scathingly. There was deathly silence as all eyes turned to the Elvenking, who suddenly appeared as the formidable warrior he had once been and spoke with ice-cold fury.

“Had I a weapon, those would have been your last words, Dwarf!” he hissed. The shocked silence was broken when Imrahil walked casually over to the group and placed his hand on Thranduil’s shoulder.

“The lovely Queen Arwen has asked me to dance with her, but I fear I am too tired, perhaps you could do her the honour instead?” he suggested, the quiet firmness in his voice somehow reaching Thranduil, who turned to stare at the Prince of Dol Amroth.

“”Yes, I fear we have been remiss in our attentions to the ladies. Shall we join them?” Legolas agreed, taking his father’s arm, very surprised that the still furious Thranduil allowed himself to be lead away. He signalled for the musicians to resume playing and soon all had returned to their merrymaking.

There was a general sigh of relief from the Dwarves as they suddenly realised the true danger they had courted; a large group of Elves had approached silently and surrounded them in support of their King.

“Well, Aragorn, will you accept our wager or not?” asked the Dwarf, his persistence apparently not in the least dampened by Thranduil’s anger, nor by any number of outraged Elves. Looking at Faramir who simply shrugged his agreement, Aragorn smiled dangerously. Confident that they would be victorious, he filled both his and the Dwarf’s tankards and the competition began.


Rather than return to where Arwen and Éowyn were anxiously awaiting to hear what had happened, Legolas suggested that he and Thranduil should join the merry group of Elves who were singing and dancing on the other side of the glade.

“Leave the Dwarves to their own devices, Adar. Do not let your dislike for them spoil the festivities,” he pleaded. Something in his son’s tone of voice, a hint of disappointment perhaps, touched his heart, and he belatedly realised that it was Legolas’ special night, and the Midsummer Festival that he was on the verge of ruining.

“I do not apologise for my anger at the insult I received, Legolas,” he said sternly, “but for your sake I will keep well away from those creatures from now on.”

“That is all I ask, Adar,” said Legolas, a brilliant smile returning to light his eyes. “I do believe that dancing is an excellent way of reducing tension, and I am certain many of the maidens here would be delighted to partner their King,” he suggested, his feigned look of innocence causing Thranduil to laugh out loud.

“I will seek relaxation in the dance square, if you will,” his father replied. “Come, let us find ourselves some partners.”

Neither of them had any trouble in that regard.

*******

“Is everything all right?” Arwen asked Imrahil as he returned to his seat. Like everyone else in the glade, she and Éowyn had witnessed the altercation, and they were relieved to see that the tense situation had apparently been peacefully resolved.

“It is now that I see Legolas has convinced Thranduil to seek alternative entertainment,” replied the Prince, smiling at the two Elves who were now totally oblivious to anything but the music and the dance. “However, I fear that Aragorn and Faramir will be involved with the Dwarves for the rest of the evening over a trivial matter of honour,” he added apologetically.

“Not another drinking contest?” sighed Éowyn, with a roll of her eyes. “Last time we were in Minas Tirith, Gimli and his friends made a similar challenge, and I believe Aragorn and Faramir prevailed, did they not?” she asked, looking to Arwen for confirmation.

“Yes, apparently it has something to do with the elven wine Aragorn and Faramir normally drink being much more potent than the ale in the taverns that the Dwarves favour. It takes quite a few tankards before either of them will be affected in any noticeable way,” the Queen explained. “They arrived back at the palace in an almost respectable condition after their last competition, and in possession of some lovely gold bracelets.”

“How interesting. No wonder Aragorn was looking so smug. I think I will join that little group and ensure that their behaviour remains as respectable as possible. Maybe I might even suggest a wager or two,” he added with a conspiratorial wink. “Gold jewellery suits my Lothiriel well.”

“You are as bad as they are. Be off with you then!” laughed Arwen, gently shoving Imrahil in the direction of the Dwarves. “So, my Lady Éowyn, it appears we are left to amuse ourselves. What do you suggest we do?” asked Arwen.

“Something totally bold and outrageous,” suggested Éowyn. “Let us go and ask Legolas and his father to partner us for a dance. At least they seem to be having a wonderful time.” As it happened, it was not necessary for the ladies to ask, for as they approached the dance square, Legolas and Thranduil met them.

“Since your husbands have clearly made the totally incomprehensible choice of deserting you for the evening, my son and I have come to see if you would care to dance?” Thranduil asked, the epitome of charm and gallantry.

“I would love to, this one happens to be one of my favourites, ” said Arwen taking Legolas’ hand and pulling him eagerly into the midst of the dancers.

“And you, Lady Éowyn?” Thranduil asked graciously.

“I would be honoured,” she replied, taking his arm as they moved slightly more sedately to join the others. “Legolas seems to be enjoying himself, I have not seen him in such a high spirited mood before,” Éowyn commented as Legolas and Arwen twirled by laughing gaily.

“It has been a long time, even as Elves count years since I have seen my son so happy,” agreed Thranduil.

“May I ask you a question?” she enquired as they danced.

“Of course.”

“Legolas is an exceedingly handsome, if not beautiful Elf, and I am wondering if he has ever been in love.” Thranduil was surprised at the boldness of the question but answered it nevertheless.

“Legolas loves every note of Ilúvatar’s music that he hears.” He could not help but smile at the confused look on Erwin’s face at the very elvish response.

“I meant with another Elf,” she explained, thinking he must have misunderstood her words.

“I know, but that is something only he can answer,” replied Thranduil as he looked around to watch his son dancing with Arwen. At one time, there had been some speculation of an attraction between the two, but it had amounted to nothing more than a close friendship. To his surprise, he saw that they were no longer amongst the dancers but moving towards one of the tables that had been cleared of the remnants of the feast.

“Sit here, if you please, my Lady, ” Legolas instructed, pointing to the table. Her curiosity piqued, Arwen complied with the request.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he knelt down and began to unlace her shoes.

“Taking your shoes off so that you can dance properly, of course,” he stated.

“Is that proper behaviour?” she asked, pretending to be shocked.

“Dancing barefoot is definitely proper behaviour in my Hall,” was the matter-of-fact response.

“What if Aragorn sees you?” she enquired.

“There is no need for concern, * everyone * can see me, my dear Arwen, and I think it unlikely that Aragorn would find reason to protest. He knows full well that my intentions towards you are as they have always been, nothing but honourable. Now does that not feel more natural?” he asked gently pulling her to her feet and swirling her around.

“Yes, it does, and it is a long time since I danced with the grass beneath my feet,” she said sadly as memories of the many nights she danced so in Rivendell and Lothlórien filled her thoughts.

“Then you should enjoy it while you can. I will go and rescue Aragorn and Faramir from those ‘evil’ Dwarves shortly, for it would be unwise to let any of that group over-indulge. But you do realise that there are likely to be several wagers resting on whether the men can hold their ale better than Dwarves?”

“Yes, I know. I think Prince Imrahil is the ring leader in that regard,” she confided. “You will definitely not be popular if you intervene too soon.”

“Sound advice, I can wait a little longer. Let us return to the dance, a much more rewarding pastime, would you not agree?”

******

True to his word, albeit several dances later, Legolas left both Arwen and Éowyn in Thranduil’s care and rejoined his friends at the Dwarf’s table. Drawing Gimli aside, he spoke quietly to him, explaining his desire to put an amicable end to the contest and asking for his assistance.

“A good idea,” agreed Gimli, “ especially since Aragorn and Faramir are definitely winning, neither of them seem the least bit inebriated.”

“I would have thought your friends would have learned that lesson last time,” Legolas commented. “How much did it cost them in gold?”

“Obviously not enough,” laughed Gimli. “I think you had better allow me to end this; Elves are not in favour in this part of your Hall at present.”

“As you wish,” conceded Legolas. Gimli smiled and made his way to the table where he promptly climbed up and stood in the middle of it and using the handle of his axe as a gavel, called for everyone’s attention.

“As much as I wish to see the outcome of this contest, I must insist that it ceases immediately. I remind you, my fellow Dwarves, that we still have a part to play in this evening’s celebrations for which we should all remain in possession of our senses,” he said glaring directly at the Dwarf who had challenged Aragorn in the first place. “If any amongst you do not wish to comply with my request, please feel free to remove yourselves to our campsite, NOW!” No one moved, but there were a few grumbles of protest.

“And I think it is time for the men to return to the company of their ladies,” added Legolas, ignoring the startled look on Aragorn’s face, for neither the King nor his Steward were showing signs of having too much to drink. “Perhaps you might have a rematch, at a more appropriate time and place, but for now I declare the contest a draw!”

*********
Thranduil escorted the ladies back to their seats and after providing them with refreshments, sat quietly sipping his wine, watching with a great deal of pride and more than a little amusement as Legolas skilfully dealt with his friends. His son’s affection for them was obvious, even in his expression of displeasure at their behaviour. The declaration of the end to the contest disappointed both the participants and those who had placed bets, but all had enough respect for Legolas to accept his decision.

“I have some business to discuss over there,” Imrahil told Legolas, pointing to a rather noisy group of elves on the outskirts of the glade who appeared to be involved in some kind of dice game. “It is many decades since I played that game, I must try my hand at it again.”

“Be wary, for several of those are elves who accompanied my father here, and both Aragorn and I have lost many a wager with them in the past,” warned Legolas, feeling it only fair to alert Imrahil of the skills of his opposition.

“Ah, a challenge! Excellent!” the Prince of Dol Amroth exclaimed happily. “I will heed your words if you heed mine…. call me if you need any further assistance with your guests.”

“Thank you, I certainly will,” agreed Legolas as he placed a friendly but firm arm around the shoulders of his two friends and ushered them back to the table where their ladies awaited.

“Queen Arwen, Lady Éowyn. May I reintroduce you to your wayward husbands,” Legolas said, a wicked gleam in his eye indicating that his slight sarcasm was purely intentional. “I do apologise for their ‘flushed’ features but I am afraid it is a side effect associated with drinking ale made by the Dwarves.” Both men turned to glare at the Elf but he totally ignored their outrage at his words.

“Thank you, Legolas,” said Arwen as she took Aragorn’s hand. “I believe a few turns around the dance floor will provide a suitable antidote for the condition.” Before he had a chance to protest, the King of Gondor found himself in the midst of a swirling group of Elves, their movement making his head spin and his balance decidedly difficult to maintain. Arwen showed little sympathy for his self-inflicted predicament and his only consolation was that Faramir was suffering the same fate at the whim of the lovely Éowyn.

Legolas remained with Thranduil and gratefully accepted the goblet of wine his father offered. “I hope the actions of that Dwarf have not changed your opinion of Gimli,” he said.

“I do not hold him responsible for the words or actions of his fellows,” conceded Thranduil.

“I am sure he would be pleased to hear you say that,” Legolas answered, relieved that there was no real harm done to the fragile beginnings of a relationship between his father and his dearest friend. Thranduil smiled at the less than subtle hint for him to complement the Dwarf and actually considered doing it.

“It was very wise of you to ask Gimli to deal with the Dwarves, he handled the situation well. I think that you have learned more about leadership and diplomacy since you left my Court, than you ever did while you were there,” observed Thranduil.

“No, Adar, it is just that now, as leader of this colony, I find I must practice the skills I learned under your tutelage,” Legolas replied. Thranduil laughed out loud. “What is so amusing?” Legolas asked, a frown of confusion ceasing his brow.

“Legolas, ever have you been my most loyal and ardent defender, for which I love you dearly, but I have a confession to make; diplomacy is not an attribute I am well known for, even amongst our own kin! I doubt you learned that skill from me!” Legolas looked startled at such an admission from his father, and in truth he had heard many comments about the Elvenking’s lack in that area, but he said nothing and joined in the laughter instead.

“Well, I have spent quite some time in Minas Tirith, so perhaps it is Aragorn’s lead I follow in that regard,” he suggested good humouredly.

“Perhaps so. Nevertheless, I am most impressed,” insisted Thranduil smiling affectionately at the pleased expression on his son’s face. “By the way, what have you done with Imrahil?” he asked, just now noticing the Prince’s absence.

“He is otherwise occupied,” said Legolas, pointing to the now quite large group of Elves who surrounded the Prince and his opponents. They sat in companionable silence enjoying the music and the silvery laughter that floated around them, and Legolas was pleased to see that after several dances, Aragorn and Faramir did indeed appear to be behaving more like they should. To his delight, the Dwarves were also once again in a decidedly friendly mood, teaching some of the other Elves one of their raucous drinking songs.

“This has been a wonderful celebration,” commented Arwen as the two couples arrived back at the main table to take a well-earned rest from their exertions on the dance square. Legolas smiled as he noticed that all four now sported flushed cheeks, a result of the lively dancing rather than the ale.

“Yes it has, but I believe the best is yet to come,” Aragorn said cryptically, as he watched Legolas make his way over to the musicians.

The first gentle strains of a delicate melody filled the glade and a hushed silence descended as Legolas began to sing. It was a joyous song, and although the lyrics were in the language of the Silvan elves, everyone in the glade clearly understood their meaning, if not the actual words. There was a mystical quality to the music and the power and beauty of the sweet voice mesmerised the listeners, turning words into images in their minds, making Elves, Men and Dwarves believe that they were part of the story Legolas wove as he sang.

******
They saw Thranduil celebrating as his elves defeated the darkness of Mirkwood and released the once Greenwood the Great from the shadow to become the beautiful Eryn Lasgalen; felt the delight of the Prince as he danced in the moonlight with his elven friends, whispering to the trees, basking in the starlight.

A second, slightly deeper voice, that of Isildur’s heir, joined in the song and everyone experienced the changing emotions as the first wary overtures between a young Ranger and a Wood elf blossomed into a deep and everlasting friendship.

The deep, gruff voices of the Dwarves joined the chorus, singing of their love for their caves and jewels until the melody became more melancholy as the images and sadness of the losses at Moria entered the scene. The light of the Lady of Lórien filled their hearts with a slowly increasing joy, reflected in the melody once more, to be gradually replaced by wonder at the beauty of the caves at Aglarond, the rebuilding of the city of Men, and the joy of the Elves as they helped build their place of celebration in the rejuvenated forest.

The melody changed again as the voices of all but one of the Dwarves fell silent, leaving only the harmony of the three…their words telling of the warm glow of the light of Elvish love for one of the children of Aulë and the King of Men…and of the bonds of friendship that had been forged between their races in recent times.

*******

Not until the last note of the song faded, and the spell was broken, did anyone realise that the Midsummer Festival had ended and the first light of the new day filled the glade.





Home     Search     Chapter List