Chapter 9 – Meeting

Legolas sat motionless in his chair, watching as the black sky slowly faded to a dull grey. Soon Anor would rise, and the grey would give way to a riot of colours. The sky would warm to a light pink, like the blush on a fair maiden’s cheeks, and eventually deepen to a warm red – much like blood.

Even the dawn did not bring Legolas the peace it usually did. He had spent the entire night pointlessly analysing what had been said. It did not change the conclusions any – his father had been right. This marriage was needed – by the Wood-Elves if not by him.

Legolas rose from the chair he had spent his night in, and went to wash his face. His body protested as he walked, as if it had been subjected to weeks of battle and not one sleepless night. It amused Legolas that for all its strength against physical harm, the elven body was so susceptible to emotional turmoil. Most people thought that it was tragically romantic that elves could die from a broken heart, but would it move them as much to know that elves could fall ill from severe emotional stress?

Probably not, most liked their tragic heroes to be perfect – perfectly beautiful, perfectly noble – perfectly unreal.

Legolas let the cool water trickle down his face, down his neck and onto his chest. He shivered slightly as the cold morning breeze hit his face. Legolas laughed inconsolably, he had survived a blizzard on the Misty Mountains and here he was, shivering from a chill breeze.

“Was the talk with your father that unbearable?”

Legolas slowly turned to look at Herenion, his eyes bleak. Herenion stepped back at the sight of such empty eyes. It pained to see his charge in such pain.

“Does it matter? I agreed to marry Lady Rhinure.”

“Then . . . I suppose congratulations are in order?”

“Yes, congratulate me, Herenion. I have just done what I vowed I would never do. I gave up – on my dreams, on my goals, on hope.”

“It will be become easier, little one.”

“Either way, it is a matter of indifference to me now. I will do what duty commands me.” Legolas straightened, slowly restoring himself. He was Prince Legolas Thranduilion – it was time for him to put the naïve Legolas behind him. It was time for him to grow up.

“And you will do it well . . . Heru en amin.” <My lord, - formal>

Nothing hammered in the difference in Legolas than those few words whispered in the Silvan tongue. Herenion had never addressed Legolas so formally. It had never mattered; Legolas had always been his pupil, his little Elfing. Now he was Herenion’s lord – respected, deferred to – and alone.

It hurt.

 “Come, Herenion. I would speak to my father. I neglected to ask him certain questions which I would have answered now.”

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Legolas arrived outside Thranduil’s chambers, only to find his way barred by Arandur. “Announce me.”

“The King does not wish to be disturbed at his moment.”

“Announce me.” Legolas commanded curtly.

Arandur bowed sharply, and disappeared inside.

“Why such a sharp tone, my prince? Has Arandur offended you in some way?”

“He has lied to me.”

“So you have found out.”

Legolas glanced back at Herenion, who walked two steps behind the prince – as protocol demanded. “Did you always know?”

“Yes.”

Legolas did not bother asking why Herenion did not deem in necessary to tell him – it was a redundant question. Until the King decided it was time for Legolas to know, none of his staff would ever open their mouths – even one like Herenion, who loved Legolas.

It was the way things were – and Legolas had to learn to accept it. Legolas should have expected no less. “How did you know?”

“Thranduil felt that I should know since I was your body guard.”

The unspoken implication was that in the end, the Heir’s safety was entrusted to a Wood-Elf and not to an Avari. So, Thranduil did not trust Arandur completely – Legolas would have to remember that. Legolas nodded, indicated that he had understood.

“Besides, Thranduil was never able to keep a secret from me.” Herenion grinned, at one point in time he had been Thranduil’s bodyguard and had watched him grow up – as he had watched Legolas.

Arandur re-appeared, “The King will see you now.”

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Legolas placed himself near the window as he waited for Thranduil to finish looking over some papers.

Arandur placed himself behind Thranduil, much like Herenion placed himself behind Legolas. Both kept a close eye on each other, and left themselves enough room to act quickly if something untoward happened. The mutual respect the two elves normally shared was completely missing in their present stances.

Legolas had never realised, or never bothered thinking about it, but the two bodyguards had completely different priorities. One protected the King and the other served the Prince. Each would act with deadly force to remove all and any threats – even if it meant eliminating the other. In this room, they were adversaries.

The thought made Legolas slightly ill. Nonetheless, in some deep corner of his heart he was grateful for Herenion’s presence. Legolas could still clearly remember the searing menace in Arandur’s eyes. While it would not do to admit such fear, Herenion’s unquestioned loyalty was a comfort.

Legolas wondered when Arandur, admired Captain of the Home Guard, had become Moriquendi. When had mistrust filled his heart, where only esteem reigned before?

*~ When turned those dangerous eyes at me – and I learnt how dark his soul could be. ~*

Legolas warily watched Arandur, trying to reconcile the two images he had of the Elf – Captain and Moriquendi – honourable elf and deceiver.

 *~ Are all Avari like you? Is Rhinure like you? ~*

Legolas watched and deduced what he could – he needed to learn something, anything about his Lady.

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“What was it that you wanted to speak to me about?”

Thranduil’s question brought Legolas back from his musings. “How long before Lady Rhinure arrives in Mirkwood?”

“She should be arriving soon, probably tomorrow, to oversee last minute details.”

“Then I can expect the marriage to take place fairly soon.”

“Yes, but I thought it best if you and Lady Rhinure decided that amongst yourself.”

“As long as we do not delay for too long?” Legolas asked dryly.

“As long as you do not delay at all.” Thranduil said.

“Will I have an opportunity to invite any of my companions to my wedding?”

“You have friends in Mirkwood.”

“That is not what I asked.”

“We do not have the time to arrange a wedding suitable enough for other rulers. And neither do we have the time to gather all of Middle-Earth to Mirkwood.”

Legolas nodded, he had been expecting as much. His wedding would be a rushed affair, at best, not the intricately detailed event that Aragorn’s was. The brutal truth was that is was not safe, for Mirkwood or for his friends, to attend. It would take too long to plan, and would present too tempting a target. However, this meant that Legolas would not have the friends that were dearest to him at his joining.

It was peculiarly appropriate.

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Herenion watched Legolas string his bow and collect his arrows. “Where do you think you are going, my Lord?”

“Patrolling.”

“I think not. The King will not be pleased if anything happens to you.”

“Herenion, I am more than capable of looking after myself. Anyway, I will be taking a contingent of the Guard with me and I will have you. I do not need more protection than that.”

Herenion tried to suppress his sigh of relief, but Legolas’ sharp ears caught it anyway.

“Herenion, I am not stupid. I am not about to ride out into Mirkwood without an adequate escort.”

Herenion’s embarrassed grin caused Legolas to smile, “I just thought . . .”

“That I was too angry to think straight?” Legolas completed the sentence with a hint of exasperation. Herenion could only nod. “Not yet, little father – not yet. It will take a lot more than bitter news for me to lose control.”

“I am beginning to learn that, little Elfing.” Herenion relaxed, not only did Legolas seem calmer, he seemed to be recovering from the shock as well.

As Legolas turned to pick up his daggers, his smile abruptly ended – let Herenion think that he was feeling better. One less Elf worrying.

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Legolas called the company to a halt, “There are riders approaching.”

Silently, his men faded into the trees, fanning out to surround the nearing riders.

It was about a minute when three Elven steeds broke into the clearing. Before they could go any further, Faelon, the lieutenant of the company, stepped out of the shadows, bow raised. The riders came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the armed elf.

“What business to do you have in Mirkwood?” Faelon asked.

“Our business is our own; we would see your King.”

“And who might you be?”

“We are Lady Rhinure’s escort.”

“And where is Lady Rhinure?” Faelon did not move a muscle; his bow remained pointed at the throat of the lead rider.

“Behind you.” A low voice caused Faelon to spin around, only to find himself facing the point of blade.

Legolas blinked, he had been concentrating of the riders so much so that he had missed the fourth figure – Lady Rhinure, presumably. A very effective trick. She was good; from what Legolas could tell, his other fighters had missed her too.

Legolas stepped out from the shadows to join his lieutenant; “We welcome you to Mirkwood, my Lady. May we escort you to the King?”

Rhinure glanced at Legolas, taking in his royal insignia. Only then did she remove the blade from Faelon’s throat. “You may, Prince Legolas.”

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