This story is set between “The Warrior” and “Fire and Shadow,” but you don’t have to have read those stories to follow this one. In it, Legolas is a young adult, age about 80. Here’s what Tolkien says about when Elves reach adulthood:

“Not until the fiftieth year did the Eldar attain the stature and shape in which their lives would afterwards endure, and for some a hundred years would pass before they were full-grown.” (From Laws and Customs of the Eldar)

Legolas’s brother Eilian is about 140 or a little more. His nephew, Sinnarn, is about 40, so around 16 in human years.

Many thanks to Nilmandra for beta reading this chapter for me.

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1. Family Time

“There is nothing so sweet as being home with my family awaiting what is sure to be a very fine meal.”

Legolas lifted an eyebrow at his brother, who had just accepted a glass of wine and settled on the garden bench next to Legolas with his long legs stretched out in front of him. “You sound as if you are not certain whether we or the meal are the main reason for your contentment.”

Eilian grinned at him. “I met one of the servants on my way out of the palace, and she told me what Alfirin ordered for tonight’s meal. If you had heard her, you would be in no doubt of which thing was uppermost in my mind at the moment. After evening meal, I may change my mind and like you better, of course.”

Legolas laughed and turned to his sister-in-law, seated on the opposite bench with Sinnarn by her side. “I must admit that I have eaten well since I have been home on leave. You do know how to feed a hungry warrior, Alfirin.”

Alfirin smiled placidly. “I am planning a feast on the green for tomorrow night because you are both home, but tonight’s meal should be acceptable. There is no mystery at all to feeding males. If you put a large amount of food in front of them, most of them are happy, although they are happier if you also sprinkle honey on some of it. You and Eilian are probably old enough that you notice if the honey is accidentally put on the parsnips rather than the pastries, which, in terms of eating, is the only distinction between you and Sinnarn and his friends.”

Her son made a face. “In truth, Naneth, you could leave the parsnips off the table completely, and I would not mind.”

Alfirin patted his arm. “But at least you eat them now without being coaxed, so I suppose you will soon be as discriminating about the honey as your uncles are.”

Legolas smiled at Sinnarn, who rolled his eyes at what he evidently judged to be his mother’s poor attempt at humor. Every time Legolas came home on leave, it seemed to him that Sinnarn was visibly taller. Already, the top of his head came up nearly to Legolas’s eye level. Sinnarn would be a novice soon, Legolas thought. Remembering the merry child who had played in this garden such a short time ago, Legolas could not help regretting what seemed to be his nephew’s inevitable future. Legolas had sometimes surprised expressions of regret on the faces of his father and older brothers when he had been Sinnarn’s age and talked about becoming a warrior. Only now did he fully understand them.

“How much longer is your leave?” Eilian asked. He had arrived home only that afternoon for his own week-long leave.

“I have to go back the day after tomorrow.” Legolas was gratified by the obvious disappointment on Eilian’s face. Eilian captained the patrol that hunted in the realm’s dangerous southern regions, while Legolas served in the far safer Eastern Border Patrol. As a consequence, he and Eilian saw one another only when their leaves overlapped, a situation that occurred far too rarely to please either of them.

Ah well. He had two days to learn how things had been wearing on for Eilian, and he had this early evening moment in a garden in spring with his family. The scent of lilacs hung heavy all around them, and as they sat in comfortable silence with one another, someone on the other side of the garden wall began singing of the beauty in the woods. Another voice joined in, singing a counterpoint, and next to Legolas, Eilian took up the song too. Then they were all singing, with Legolas admiring the way Sinnarn’s young tenor threaded its way around his mother’s sweet soprano.

After a while, the song wound its way to its finish. “I cannot think of a better scene to come home to,” said a deep voice, and Legolas turned to see Ithilden coming toward them with a smile on his face. “Mae govannen, Eilian,” he said, as Eilian rose to clasp arms with him. “It is good to have you home.” He nodded to Legolas and then dropped onto the bench next to Alfirin and put his arm around her shoulders to draw her close against his side. She leaned her head back against him, looking completely contented. Legolas felt the small stab of loneliness he sometimes experienced when seeing his oldest brother’s joy in his wife, and next to him, Eilian shifted slightly and looked away.

For a while, they sat without speaking, content to listen to the wind in the trees and the buzzing of the bees in the lilacs. A sparrow who had been attracted by their song hopped around Sinnarn’s feet, searching the ground for its own evening meal.

“Did you finish your lessons, Sinnarn?” Ithilden asked his son.

Sinnarn sighed heavily. “Yes. You do not need to keep checking on me.”

“I do when your tutor tells me you have been leaving your work undone.”

“I have done most of it,” Sinnarn said defensively. “My tutor does not seem to notice that I have other things to do too.”

“You have enough time to roam the forest with your friends, so I believe you have enough time to complete your lessons. You need to recognize your responsibilities, Sinnarn. You cannot always do just what you like.”

“Sinnarn did his work today,” Alfirin interrupted firmly, “and that is all that needs to be said on the subject. Sinnarn, would you please pour your adar some wine?” Seated on either side of her, her husband and son both pressed their mouths shut in irritated expressions so alike that Legolas nearly laughed out loud.

Knowing how poorly a laugh would be received by everyone involved, he settled instead for smiling sympathetically at Sinnarn as he rose to pour the wine from the carafe on the small table at the end of the bench. The sparrow feigned fright and flew away, but not very far, coming to rest on the garden wall.

In truth, Legolas did sympathize with Sinnarn. He had been his nephew’s age only a few short years ago, and it had sometimes seemed to him that Thranduil lectured him about being responsible on an almost daily basis. Like Sinnarn, he had wanted to escape the schoolroom and the constant surveillance of his tutor and his father and have what had looked to him like the freedom of adults. He had wanted to make his own choices, and govern his own time, and do what he chose, not what everyone else thought was good for him. He had been sick of being the family baby and had longed for his father and brothers to respect him as someone who could make good decisions on his own and contribute to the wellbeing of his father’s realm.

Then he had come of age and become a warrior and found that his life was nearly as closely governed as it had been when he was Sinnarn’s age. Not only did he, like his fellow warriors, owe obedience to the officers who commanded his patrol, but also, when on patrol, he lived under the ever watchful eyes of a bodyguard. Moreover, while he hoped he had his family’s respect, he had come to realize that his father in particular might never stop seeing him as a child.

Ithilden accepted the cup of wine that his son gave him, drew a deep breath, and prepared to change the subject. “Eilian, you might be interested to know that some Western Border Patrol warriors brought home two wounded patrol members today. One of them was Galelas.  I think he served under you when you were captaining the Northern Border Patrol.”

“Indeed he did,” Eilian said, his interest obviously sharpening. “Is he badly hurt?”

“He has a deep wound in his sword arm. It will heal, but he was not going to be of much use to his patrol for a while so they sent him home.”

Eilian frowned. “I had heard that things have become more heated along the western border.”

Ithilden nodded. “Yes, they have. I trust the situation is only temporary, but the patrol there has run into an unusually large number of spiders of late. What sent Galelas home, however, was an encounter with Orcs.”

“They have seen both spiders and Orcs?” Legolas asked in surprise. “Things have been very quiet in our area for several months now.”

“Thank goodness,” said Alfirin.

“Yes, of course,” Legolas agreed. “I did not mean to wish for trouble, but routine patrols can become tedious after a while.” He looked at Ithilden. “I have been in the Eastern Border Patrol for a number of years now. Have you considered my request to be transferred? I know you will not let me go south with Eilian,” he added hastily, seeing both Ithilden’s and Eilian’s faces, “but you could send me west.”

“You are fine where you are,” Ithilden said. “It will not hurt you to gain a little more experience.”

“Galelas is only two years older and therefore two years more experienced than I am!” Legolas protested. In truth, Legolas had never particularly liked Galelas, who was competitive and inclined to be jealous of Legolas, who he suspected might be getting special treatment as the king’s son. The fact that Eilian had taken Galelas under his wing and encouraged him had not sweetened Legolas’s feelings toward him either. Legolas had admired Eilian all his life and drawn great comfort from Eilian’s obvious affection for him, and he had been dismayed to find Eilian taking an interest in Galelas’s well-being.

Ithilden had apparently been thrown off stride by Legolas’s pointing out that, when compared to the posting he had selected for Galelas, he seemed to be sheltering Legolas, for he had not immediately answered, and then he was saved the trouble when they were interrupted.

“Good evening, everyone,” said Thranduil’s voice and Legolas looked back over his shoulder to see his father approaching. He started to rise, but Thranduil gestured for them all to remain seated and settled on the bench next to Eilian, his pleasure at having his whole family together plain on his face. “You look more relaxed than you did when I received you in the Great Hall,” he told Eilian.

Eilian grinned. “So do you, Adar.”

Thranduil made a little face. “I have been negotiating with the Men from Dale who have been serving as go-betweens between us and the Dwarves in the Iron Hills. They are supposed to be sending us another shipment of iron for weaponry but the shipment has been delayed and they were hinting today that it might not arrive at all. I expect that Dwarven double-dealing is involved here somewhere, but I suppose it could be the Men who are playing us false. I have not yet been able to make out exactly what is happening.”

“Both the Dwarves and the Men have been reliable so far,” Ithilden said in a carefully neutral tone, although Legolas knew he had to be anxious. He exerted a great deal of effort making sure that the realm’s troops were well armed, and an interruption in the supply of iron would be a problem.

Thranduil shrugged. “We know only what the Men tell us about the Dwarves, and the Man who came today was not the one we usually deal with. Gwelid has apparently grown too old for the task.”

Legolas thought about that for a moment. What would it be like to have your elders age and grow feeble, so that you had to undertake their duties? How would it feel to have to care for them and then watch them die? He shuddered slightly. He could not imagine how Men tolerated it.

“Sinnarn, I am sure your grandfather would appreciate a cup of wine too,” said Alfirin, who disliked it when talk about the day’s problems interrupted scarce family time.

Sinnarn jumped up and fetched the wine for Thranduil, who smiled affectionately at him and said, “Thank you, child.” Sinnarn glowed under his grandfather’s warmth, and Legolas marveled as he always did at how indulgent his father was with his grandson compared to his treatment of his sons. Legolas supposed that Thranduil had decided that Ithilden and Alfirin were quite capable of disciplining their son, leaving him free to simply enjoy his grandson’s company. Even more surprising was the fact that Sinnarn placidly accepted being addressed as “child” when Thranduil did it, whereas Legolas was willing to wager any amount that Sinnarn would have protested noisily if either of his parents had called him that.

Sinnarn returned to his place near his mother, and Thranduil, having plainly taken in Alfirin’s unspoken request for a change of subject, turned to Legolas. “Legolas, have you given any more thought to taking the roan back on patrol with you instead of that grey stallion?”

“Are you getting a new horse, brat?” asked Eilian.

“Yes, like the Man from Dale, Vanyo is growing too old,” said Legolas.

“He has been thinking of taking a grey stallion that the horse master recently acquired,” Thranduil said, “but if he considers the matter further, I think he will see that it is too wild.” He leaned forward on the bench to see more easily around Eilian. “You have a history of choosing undisciplined horses, Legolas, and you must know that that has created problems for you.”

Legolas tried to control his irritation at his father’s interference. “I like the grey. He is an extraordinarily beautiful animal, and I think he and I would get along well.”

“I understand why the grey has struck your fancy,” Thranduil persisted, “but this is not just a matter of what you might like. You need to think about which horse would be more useful on patrol.”

Legolas’s annoyance increased at being admonished in much the same way Ithilden had admonished Sinnarn over his unfinished lessons, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something that would certainly have caused trouble. Did his father think he had no judgment at all? “I have thought about that, Adar, and I am sure I can make good use of the grey.” The look on Thranduil’s face said that he plainly still thought that Legolas was being stubbornly foolish.

“I think our meal is ready,” said Alfirin, rising and nodding to a servant who was approaching.

“Good,” said Eilian, standing and offering her his arm. “You cannot know how much I have looked forward to this, Alfirin.” With Thranduil in the lead, he escorted her toward the garden gate. As they reached it, he looked back and grinned at Legolas, who made a rueful face in response. Eilian knew perfectly well what Legolas was feeling. Legolas suspected that he often felt the same way himself.

***

Eilian leaned comfortably back in his chair and toyed with his wine goblet as he watched Sinnarn and Legolas eat their way through second helpings of excellent apple tart. Legolas was filling out a little, he thought. The muscles in his chest and back were gradually catching up with the width of his shoulders, although he was always going to be lean like Eilian himself rather than broad like Thranduil and Ithilden both were. He thought briefly about Legolas’s suggestion that he be transferred to one of the more active patrols. One of these days, Ithilden was going to have to give in, Eilian thought regretfully, but surely not yet. His little brother was not even fully grown.

Apparently, Thranduil was thinking along the same lines. He smiled at Alfirin. “You are going to have to ask Cook to provide larger portions for these two younglings,” he said. Legolas rolled his eyes a little and looked at Eilian, who could only grin at his brother’s dismay at being classified with their nephew.

Sinnarn finally scraped up the last bit of pasty. “Shall we move to the sitting room?” Alfirin asked.

“This has been wonderful, Alfirin,” Eilian said as he rose, “but I am going out tonight, so with Adar’s permission, I will be on my way now.”

“If you do not mind,” Legolas said, “I will join you.”

Eilian glanced at him, catching the frown on Thranduil’s face as he did so. Quickly, Eilian considered his plans for the evening and decided that while Legolas’s presence might mean he would have to be a little more circumspect, it would not be a problem. Indeed, his company might be pleasant. “Of course. You are more than welcome to come.”

“Where are you going?” Thranduil asked to Eilian’s surprise. His father had stopped asking about his plans years ago. He saw Legolas’s mouth tighten and realized, as Legolas obviously had too, that it was Legolas about whom Thranduil was concerned.

“Just along the river to sing and see friends,” Eilian answered, and Thranduil relaxed a little.

“May I go too?” Sinnarn asked eagerly.

“No,” said Ithilden immediately, much to Eilian’s relief. He was fond of his nephew, but Sinnarn was really still a child, and Eilian would feel obligated to keep an eye on him. He was a little insulted by the speed of Ithilden’s refusal, however.

“You let me go to the river with my friends,” Sinnarn protested.

“Eilian and Legolas will be with their friends tonight,” said Ithilden. He placed what was undoubtedly meant to be a comforting hand on his son’s shoulder, but Sinnarn shrugged it off, looking irritated.

Eilian saw Thranduil watching Ithilden and Sinnarn with a small ironic smile playing about his mouth. Thranduil doted on Sinnarn, but he was not blind to how difficult he could be at this age. Moreover, Eilian had cause to know that Thranduil had sometimes found fatherhood to be an exasperating experience, so he suspected that Thranduil occasionally enjoyed seeing Ithilden suffer the same way. Not that Eilian imagined that Ithilden had ever been difficult. Legolas had slipped out of the palace at night on a regular basis when he was Sinnarn’s age though, and Eilian knew that he, himself, had frequently been a thorn in his father’s side and, in some ways, still was.

Thranduil shifted his gaze to Eilian. “Have a good time,” he said, and Eilian had to give him credit. He and Legolas went down the corridor toward their chambers, while the rest of the family went to the sitting room.

“How much will you wager that Adar will still be up when we get home,” Legolas murmured, “or rather, I suppose, when I get home?”

Eilian laughed. “I try not make wagers I am sure to lose. I will fetch some wine and some cups and meet you at the Great Doors in a few minutes.” Legolas nodded and went off to his own chamber while Eilian made his way to the stairs descending to the kitchen.

“Good evening, my lord,” said the cook. “It is good to see you home. Did you enjoy the meal?”

“’Enjoy’ is a weak word for how I felt about it,” Eilian told him with a grin. “I may have to take you with me when I go back to my patrol.”

Cook laughed. “I believe Lady Alfirin would have something to say about that. I suppose you are after wine now.”

“Yes, I am, and Legolas is going out too, so if you would give me enough wine and a cup for him too, that would be welcome.”

“And enough to share with a maiden or two, I suppose,” Cook smiled. He gestured to his smiling assistant who hastened down the stairs to the storeroom and quickly returned with a skin of wine and a leather bag that Eilian knew held several carefully wrapped cups.

“Thank you. I will think of you every time I take a drink,” Eilian told the assistant, who laughed.

“Somehow I doubt that,” he said.

“Try to stay out of trouble, my lord,” said Cook fondly, “and if you know what is good for you, you will bring Lord Legolas safely home too. The king is still a bit protective of him, I think.”

“So am I,” Eilian admitted. “Thank you for the wine.” Cook and his assistant smiled benignly, as Eilian took his leave. He went up the stairs two at a time, stopped in his chamber for the cloak he might need later when the night grew cool, and then went to meet Legolas, whom he found waiting for him. The two of them descended the stairs, crossed the bridge, and then took the path that would lead them to the part of the river bank where people gathered on fine evenings to visit and make music.

Legolas had obviously been itching to complain about their father. “I swear Adar thinks I am still Sinnarn’s age.”

Eilian smiled sympathetically. “He knows you are of age, Legolas. You will notice that he made no move to prevent you from coming with me. He just cannot stop himself from checking to be certain that you are all right.”

They sauntered along without speaking for a while, listening to the music of the river and the trees and the Elves who were gathered. Eilian scanned the groups along the river bank, looking for a particular group of friends he knew was likely to be there. He had hesitated only briefly about joining them when he realized he would have Legolas with him, but quick consideration had told him that these Elves would be what he considered acceptable company for his younger brother. At one time, Eilian had spent his time with Elves who gambled for high stakes, raced through the treetops too recklessly, and drank too much, but he had grown bored with them in recent years, and his friends would have met with even Thranduil’s approval. For the most part, anyway.

“Eilian!” called a voice from the shadows under an oak, and he turned toward it with a smile.

“Mae govannen, Calólas,” he said, leading Legolas toward the grassy spot where a little knot of young Elves was gathered. To Eilian’s delight, Thriwien was among them. He had caught a glimpse of her as he arrived home that afternoon and had wondered if she would be here tonight. During a few months shortly after he came of age, he had spent a great deal of time with Thriwien, and his brief glimpse of her that day had reminded him of what a graceful figure she had. He gave her his most charming smile, and she smiled back, making the corners of her grey eyes tip up very attractively.

“When did you get home?” Calólas asked.

“Today.” Eilian indicated Legolas. “You know my brother, of course.” They all nodded at Legolas, and Eilian seated himself next to Thriwien. To his amusement, Legolas hesitated for only a second before taking a place at the side of a quiet maiden, whose name Eilian had to search for. Elethiel: that was it. He had seen her at the river often. She was pretty in a soft kind of way, but Eilian had never spoken much to her because he had always thought she was interested in the music rather than the company of young males. She and Legolas evidently knew one another, however, for she greeted him by name.

Eilian poured more wine into the cup Thriwien already held and offered it to the others in the group, but they all had their own. He took some for himself and then leaned forward, tapped Legolas on the shoulder, and passed the wineskin to him. He turned to Thriwien. “How have you been, beautiful?”

She laughed and then cocked her head at him. “What is Celuwen doing these days, my lord?” Her tone was friendly enough, but there was an edge of caution in it.

Eilian flinched inwardly but managed to shrug. “I believe she is still living with her parents in their settlement. I have not heard from her of late.” He had not heard from her because Celuwen was returning his letters unopened, having apparently decided that loving Eilian was too great a risk. As far as he was concerned, Celuwen was welcome to live in her settlement forever and marry some Elf whose idea of excitement was painting the cottage a different color. Eilian did not care. He took a long drink of his wine.

Thriwien gave him a considered look and then smiled slowly. “I am sorry to hear that, but I cannot say I am surprised. Celuwen never did appreciate you sufficiently, Eilian.” He returned her slow smile, and in his belly, he felt a pleasant warmth that had nothing to do with the wine.

One of the other Elves in the group began plucking at his harp, and Eilian leaned back on his elbow to enjoy the music and the stars and the company of a pretty maiden. Occasionally, if he did not hear Legolas singing, he looked toward him, but he always found him speaking quietly with Elethiel. His little brother drank more wine than was probably good for him, but then so did Eilian, and neither one of them was really drunk. At length, Eilian bent to whisper an invitation in Thriwien’s ear. “Shall we go for a walk?”

She turned her face to his. Their lips were within an inch of one another. “That sounds like a fine idea,” she said, and the two of them rose. Suddenly, he caught sight of Legolas and hesitated. Should he perhaps stay with his younger brother?  Thriwien followed the direction of his gaze. “He looks to me as if he is of age,” she said dryly. “He can probably take care of himself.”

Eilian drew a deep breath. She was right. Legolas was an adult and had the right to be trusted and to have some privacy, just as Eilian did. He stopped to speak to his brother. “Will you take the wine skin and cups home, Legolas?”

Legolas nodded, looking appraisingly at Thriwien. He shot Eilian a look that verged on disapproving.

Eilian decided that Legolas needed to be reminded who was older and wiser. He grinned at him. “Do not stay out too late, brat. Adar will be worried.” Legolas narrowed his eyes but said nothing, and Eilian went happily on his way.

***

Legolas watched Eilian depart with his arm around Thriwien’s waist. He glanced at Elethiel, who was smiling slightly. She looked at him. “I have an older brother too,” she said. He laughed and relaxed. A song drifted their way from closer toward the river, and they both fell silent to hear it.

Legolas’s mind kept drifting to Eilian, however, and he marveled again at how unguarded his brother was in his relations with others. He envied Eilian that. Legolas knew that he himself was always careful around people who were not either part of his extended family or long time friends. He was only too aware that he always represented his father, even when he was simply sitting on a river bank listening to music.

But Eilian was easy in his affection with his friends and particularly with maidens. He flirted as naturally as he breathed, buzzing around pretty maids like a bee exploring a garden. And surprisingly enough, most maidens seemed to enjoy his light charm, welcome his company, and remain friends with him when he moved on to someone else.

Legolas did not think he could ever be so casual with maidens. He liked having female friends, Elethiel for instance, who always knew where the best music was to be had. But he felt no overwhelming attraction to her and felt no desire to flirt with her as Eilian would have been doing. What he would have liked was to feel about a maiden as Ithilden obviously felt about Alfirin, and, he added to himself, as Eilian felt about Celuwen, a fact that made Eilian’s flirting doubly incomprehensible. Of course, if Legolas did love someone enough to want to bond with her, there would still be complications, because he took his obligations as a warrior with single-minded seriousness.

He gave up thinking about it. For now, the music and the wine and the starry night were enough.