Thirty-one

Legolas took a bundle from Lancaeriel and secured it onto her bay pack horse, Dinnif.

"Is that everything?" he asked, turning to where she stood staring at the talan she had called home.

Her head dipped in what could barely be called a nod.

He waited, knowing the pain she endured. He had felt it himself when he had packed his own belongings and left the Halls. How long had he stood on the bridge just staring at the gates?

They had rested five days, allowing their wounds to heal and rebuilding their strength. Legolas had also needed to pack the things he wished to take with him to Asgarnen. He had sent the bulk of his belongings with his family into the West, but there had been some things, such as his circlet, the tapestry of his family crest and some other reminders of his family that he wished to have.

These he had packed on Thinnen, Daehul's silvery grey dam. He would bring her to Asgarnen as well, for she had many years left and he hoped to breed her to one of Eomer's stallions.

Once he had cleaned out his rooms, they had departed the Halls and come to Lancaeriel's village for her belongings.

And now, he waited for Lancaeriel, as she had waited for him when he lingered on the bridge.

She stood staring at the talan only a few more minutes before she turned, visibly ripping her eyes from the sight of her home. Without looking at him, she asked in a small voice, "Are we ready to head out then?" She tilted her head down so that her mahogany hair fell around her face, hiding what Legolas suspected were tears.

He understood. He was not sure he was ready to say goodbye either. But how much more difficult for her it must be. She was leaving the only home she had known to travel to a strange land, where he would be the only one she knew.

He moved closer to her and said, "I do not think I will ever be ready, but leave we must. I will miss this wood…but it will live forever in my heart."

He lifted a hand to brush her hair behind her ears, and then wiped the tears trickling down her cheeks. "In time, Caeri, Ithilien will be home, but perhaps we can travel back—"

"No," she whispered, lifting her head stubbornly. Blinking back the tears, she spoke with conviction. "It is time to say goodbye. Once we leave, this wood will no longer be the same. In but a short time, there will be no memory of the elves who called it home. The world is changing, and our wood with it. I would remember it as it is now, full of memory and the trees whispering my name."

The corners of Legolas's mouth quirked upwards at her courage, but it was a sad smile, for she was right. It was time to go. Part of his heart would always be here under the boughs of Eryn Lasgalen — the wood of green leaves — for a single Greenleaf would always call this place home, though he be forever uprooted from it.

Their gazes collided, the melancholy filling both understood by the other. They shared a poignant smile and then both mounted, urging their horses towards the man and dwarf waiting nearby.

— o —

Gimli spent much of the trip south through the forest watching Lancaeriel. He was a people watcher, or so Legolas had said once. Whatever the elf wished to call his observations did not stop Gimli from doing it. It was a good skill to have. Many had been the time Aragorn or Eomer had called upon him for his opinion on a certain person, knowing he absorbed details others missed.

And he was seeing some details now that he had not seen in the time they had spent in the Elvenking's halls while the elves recovered from their ordeal.

Lancaeriel's eyes were wide, her head moving in almost a twitchy manner as she turned this way and that to see everything as they passed south towards the Old Forest road. She reminded him of a wild creature set free after a short time in captivity.

"You look as if you have never seen this part of the wood before," he told her.

"I have not," she replied. When he expressed surprise, she explained. "I have never travelled more than a few leagues from the village in which I was born. When I was young, my father took me with him gathering and hunting, but even then, we stayed north of the king's halls. This part of the wood was not safe for us, except since the Peace." She dropped her gaze to her horse's mane. "And I have not had a chance to see it, until now."

She raised her face and gazed up into the boughs above them with a wistful smile. "I am glad I get to see and speak with them now, even if it is only in passing."

She trailed her fingers through the overhanging branches as they passed, murmuring words Gimli could not understand. She seemed even more fascinated by the trees than Legolas, which he found hard to believe — at first.

Gimli had thought he knew elves, having a close association with Legolas over the past thirty or so years. He had noticed the differences between Legolas's people and those of Rivendell, for certain, but he had not seen such among the wood-elves themselves. But then, he really had not developed any friendships with true wood-elves, he realized.

His closest associations were with Legolas or Tathar, Legolas's Lord Warden, whose father had been an adviser to Thranduil as well as Oropher. Ferlim had also come from Doriath, and like Thranduil had married a Silvan woman. Tathar was of mixed blood, as was Legolas.

And so were most of those who had come with Legolas to begin the colony in Ithilien, he realized. Those were the elves he knew, and had always considered wood-elves. They had an affinity for nature and a love of the trees and plants. Gimli had always just assumed the only difference was in their coloring, varying from golden-haired like Legolas, to dark brown like Tathar. Such differences were not uncommon in his own people.

But over the course of the several days it took them to travel south to the mountains, he discovered Lancaeriel was different. Not just in her mahogany hair, but also in her blue-green eyes. He had seen gems that color in the Blue Mountains, but no elf he had met before had such eyes as hers.

Like the sea, he thought, concerned at first, but her gaze did not seem to arouse the sea longing inside Legolas. If anything, he seemed less inclined to slip into that dazed glassy-eyed state with her beside him. Odd, but Gimli had learned elves were odd by nature and accepted it.

"I have never seen an elf with eyes the color of Lancaeriel's before, Legolas," Gimli mentioned one evening as they were making camp. "Is it common among the wood-elves?"

Legolas paused and thought about his question a moment. "I would not say common, but not rare either. My mother was Silvan, but she had grey eyes, as is common. My father always said I have her eyes." He smiled. "But I have seen such eyes before, mostly in the villages to the north of the Halls. You do not see such a color in Imladris or among my father's people. Usually, their eyes are blue or sometimes grey."

"So how did Thranduil end up with green eyes, then?" Gimli asked, remembering the piercing stare that had burned through him on more than one occasion in the early years after he and Legolas had befriended one another.

Legolas tilted his head with a puzzled expression. "I am not certain. The only other person I have seen with eyes that color, at least among my people, was my grandfather, and I know that only from paintings of him." He grinned suddenly. "That is a question I must ask him one day."

Gimli grunted, and rolled out his bedroll.

Lancaeriel stood not far away, having settled her horses for the night. She had one hand on the trunk of an old, gnarled oak, the fingers of her other hand caressing the branches of a sapling growing up between the roots. Then she stepped away and walked from tree to tree, touching each, murmuring, occasionally laughing softly.

He had not seen even Legolas act in such a manner. Usually the elf would perch in a single tree, and often sing softly to himself, if he was not gazing off into the distance. He would think perhaps the difference lay in the sea longing having affected his friend, but he had seen Tathar do much the same.

Gimli could hear the trees murmuring himself. All dwarves could hear plant speech, but unlike the speech of rock and stone, he could not understand it. He jumped when the weight of a hand landed on his shoulder and he turned to see Legolas watching him.

"She is a wood-elf, elvellon," Legolas said.

"So are you," Gimli shot back.

But Legolas shook his head. "No, only half. She has a better understanding of this forest than I ever shall. And it responds to her in a way it does not to me."

Gimli blinked at him, then shook his head. "Bah! You elves are all strange." Then he stomped off to help Aragorn with the fire and their dinner.

Lancaeriel did not speak much with them those first days of their travel. While Gimli, Legolas and Aragorn conversed as they rode, she held back, seeming almost shy. There were times she would open her mouth as if to add something, but then would close it and glance away.

But Gimli did not miss the shine of interest in her gaze as they spoke of their time apart the past year. He wished she would also speak, tell them of her life, her family, but she remained for the most part quiet, though she did laugh a time or two when he and Legolas baited one another. She would just shake her head at their banter, as if seeing right through the degrading insults to the great affection he and the elf held for one another. But she refrained from joining them.

It did not take many days for her silence to wear at Gimli. He wanted to know her better. Needed to know her better, if she was going to be keeping close company with Legolas, regardless of whether such association were of a romantic nature or not. And he could see that for now, it certainly was not, and for that he was grateful, though he did not linger on such thoughts.

But Lancaeriel merely listened and observed, and Gimli grew impatient.

Legolas had told him little of Lancaeriel's past, but Gimli had not expected him to do so. His elven friend would not betray a confidence. What little Gimli had learned from the small snatches of information she shared, as well as observing her over the course of days, made him wonder if Lancaeriel waged a war within herself. It seemed to him that there were deep hurts within her, but he had also seen her desire to break free of those.

Gimli had seen enough glimpses of the woman behind the quiet shell to know there was much more to her than her silent façade. He wished she would just open up and join in their conversations and jesting, but she held back.

Well, he would not tolerate that! Had they not agreed to be friends? He would let her have her quiet time for now, but once they reached the mountains, if she had not begun to speak more, he would take matters into his own hands.

Even Gimli had to admit an appreciation for the beauty of the ancient forest when they reached the mountains. He had seen it before, but the sight always caused him stop and stare at the flowering trees upon the slopes. They were in full bloom, dotting the view with splashes of pink, white, yellow and even dark red, like a sprinkling of jewels across the green folds of the earth, where they crossed the eastern foothills.

They did not speak much amongst themselves as they crossed the lower slopes. The mountains were where the wood-elves had come to make their new home, but Gimli so no sign of them as they passed, and guessed the Silvan folk had settled further to the west, in the actual mountains.

Even Legolas was quiet now, his eyes searching, as did Lancaeriel's. The two rode side by side, speaking softly between themselves. Gimli watched them with both interest and trepidation. Aragorn's gaze also focused often on the two elves, the man's expression thoughtful. They shared a look, but continued on without commenting.

At the Old Forest Road, they turned west towards the Misty Mountains and the River Anduin. And along the path, Gimli decided he had had enough of the silence. He would break that woman out of her shell if he could. And he did it by baiting Legolas and Aragorn into heated debates as they rode.

As he had suspected, Lancaeriel listened and watched them with wide eyes, but she did not join in their discussion. So, at the height of the argument, he turned to her and asked directly for her thoughts.

The first time he did that, she blinked and merely opened and closed her mouth before shaking her head. But Gimli kept pressing her. At first, she tried to avoid the argument or to stay neutral, not wishing to take sides in their heated debates. But Gimli was tenacious and hammered away at the wall she had built around herself.

And it worked. Cracks formed. She began to laugh at them from time to time, and before many days passed, to his surprise, she teamed up with him against Aragorn or Legolas, leaving them muttering in agitation about stubborn dwarves and elven females.

So by the time they reached the edge of Eryn Lasgalen, and Lacaeriel beheld the Anduin for the first time, she had begun taking part in the conversations without Gimli's needing to drive her to it.

Gimli felt quite pleased with his devious ploy, and thought he had gotten away with it, until Legolas pulled him aside.

"Thank you, Gimli."

He raised a brow in confusion. "For what?"

Legolas smiled. "For drawing Lancaeriel out of her shyness and helping her. I fear I have been at a loss to do so myself, but you have managed it well."

Gimli waved his hand as if waving aside such a suggestion. "Only been arguing with you two like we always do."

"Sure you have," Legolas agreed with a smile.

They turned south alongside the river, towards Rohan, and by the time they reached the Gladden Fields, Lancaeriel had begun to tease them all. Gimli found he enjoyed her wit, and the more he came to know her, he began to see how she and Legolas complimented one another in temperament.

She had shared a little of her past with them, telling of the death of her family. She had let them see some of the grief, and watched as Legolas was able to draw her back from it.

In turn, Lancaeriel somehow soothed the sea longing that haunted Legolas. Gimli was not certain how she did that, but remembered Legolas's words from early in their journey about the wood-elves ties to the forest. Gimli had certainly seen the difference between she and Legolas in that regard, and he wondered if it was that stronger tie to the forest that countered the sea longing in Legolas, or if he was just over thinking it all due to spending too much time riding through a bunch of look alike trees.

What Gimli did not expect was the jealousy that reared up inside him at the friendship Legolas and Lancaeriel had formed. Gimli was not used to sharing the elf on their travels, not even with Aragorn, and the discovery was unsettling. But he pushed it aside, for he could see that she would be a great asset to Legolas once the elf was back in Asgarnen and far from the close friends who helped anchor him in Arda. Gimli would not have to worry so much about him with her near him. And that thought soothed the jealousy. Besides, he genuinely liked the elf woman.

After traveling for ten days, they forded the River Anduin not far from where it was joined by the River Limlight. The plains of Rohan and the Wold lay before them, the endless sea of grass being tossed like waves in the perpetual wind.

They would travel from here to Edoras, where Gimli would leave them and head home to Aglarond. Din would be worried about him, and there was no telling what chaos Blákári had managed in his absence.

Legolas, Aragorn and Lancaeriel would continue east from Edoras to Minas Tirith, then the two elves would go on from there to Ithilien and Asgarnen — Legolas's colony.

Lancaeriel and Aragorn rode behind them, side by side, speaking of the king's childhood in Imladris. Gimli rode beside Legolas, keeping a close eye on his friend, having seen in the past how the wind upon the grass could affect the elf. Legolas's eyes even now were taking on that distant, glassy gaze.

Gimli grumbled under his breath in irritation then slowed his horse, positioning Moroch directly behind Legolas and Daehul. Legolas did not notice he had fallen behind. The elf's eyes were still fixed on the waving grasses of the plains.

Gimli waited a few minutes before calling out. "Can you not get that mule of yours to move any faster, elf? He is hindering Moroch's pace!"

As Gimli spoke, he urged the brown pony to push against the big grey's rump.

Daehul snorted and crow hopped in annoyance, nearly unseating his rider.

Legolas turned annoyed eyes towards him. "With all the open space around us, must you ride precisely at my back? Go around, Gimli, and cease upsetting Daehul!"

Gimli narrowed his eyes at the elf. "Harrumph! It was you who swerved in front of me. If that beast cannot maintain anything above a snail's pace, then perhaps you should move him out of the way!"

Legolas's spine stiffened, and Gimli fought desperately not to grin as the elf's pride bristled at the insult to his horse.

"Snail's pace? As if that short-legged creature you ride could even keep up with Daehul! We will see whose horse moves slowly, dwarf." The elf whispered in the grey ears and Daehul picked up his pace, trotting smartly forward.

"Ah, you are suggesting a race then? Very well," Gimli declared, compelling Moroch to catch up. As he drew alongside, he pointed to a cluster of small bushes some distance ahead of them. "Last one there wins!"

He clamped his legs tightly to Moroch's sides and gave the pony a free rein. Moroch surged to the lead, for he was a fast starter and hard to beat over short distances, befitting of his Rohirric breeding and dwarven rider, despite his short physique. The pony also liked to run, and snorted in pleasure as he leveled out over the plain.

From behind, Gimli heard the elf curse, then the rumble of more hooves. In seconds, a grey nose drew even with Gimli's knee. Gimli pumped his legs to urge Moroch faster, but the grey nose inched ahead with Legolas crouched over Daehul's withers.

As Daehul's strides lengthened, his powerful long legs ate up the ground and the stallion surged past Moroch, who whinnied plaintively as the grey passed.

In moments, the elvish horse was streaking ahead by himself, a silver blur upon the plains.

Bright laughter drifted back as Legolas and Daehul passed the dark brush which marked the finish line. The elf straightened and turned the stallion in a wide arc, bringing him around and back to Moroch's heaving side.

They slowed their horses to a brisk walk, allowing them to cool down. Legolas's eyes twinkled with merriment as he grinned widely at Gimli.

Gimli said nothing for a moment, just watched the joyful expression, which was a rare sight on the elf's face. Finally, he nodded. "Aye, you look better now, lad."

He watched a puzzled expression cross his friend's face, but Gimli knew Legolas would soon figure out what Gimli had done.

Legolas threw his head back and laughed, stretching his arms overhead towards the sun. He lowered them back to rest on his thighs and met Gimli's eyes, a smile still upon his lips. "Always you lighten my heart, elvellon. Thank you."

"Hmmm… Just keep your eyes on something other than the grass, elf, or I will be forced to take other measures to draw you back." Gimli grinned. "Like suggesting to Arwen that you need a wife." He glanced at Lancaeriel and laughed when Legolas began to blush.

"She and I are merely friends, dwarf. Refrain from speaking of such things or I shall be forced this evening to tell the story about the dwarf and the bat!"

Gimli stopped laughing. "You would not!"

"I will if you do not stop playing matchmaker!" Legolas smirked, and Gimli realized he was the one now blushing.

"Keep your mind from where it should not go, elf," Gimli growled, "and we will not have a problem."

Legolas nodded, eyes shining. "Again, I thank you, Gimli. You are a good friend."

"Bah, you can be tolerable as well…when you want to be."

Hoof beats from behind drew their attention, and he and Legolas exchanged smiles as Aragorn and Lancaeriel joined them, having decided to race themselves. Lancaeriel's riding skill had greatly improved on their journey, though she still tightly gripped her horse's mane when he ran.

Aragorn's tall chestnut reached them first, but only a few strides ahead of the fiery Naurun.  Dinnif and Thinnen lingered behind, taking their time in catching up and only trotted across the plains, snorting in admonishment at being left behind.

Lancaeriel laughed aloud, and pointed a finger at Aragorn. "You cheated!" she told him.

"Nay, fair lady! You simply delayed your start. You need to teach that horse to leap forward more quickly at the beginning of a race." Aragorn grinned at her triumphantly.

She snorted in disdain. "Another few strides and we would have caught you! That horse may be pretty, but he is not as fast as he looks."

Halruin flipped his tail and squealed at her, striking out with a forefoot in annoyance.

"Forgive me, Halruin. You are fast, just not as fast as Naurun, at least not in a fair race!" Lancaeriel teased.

The chestnut stallion pulled away, clearly miffed with the lady and her comments. Naurun nickered to him, and the stallion bobbed his head, but refused to walk alongside the gelding.

Gimli laughed with the others at the horses' antics, as they turned towards the road leading to Edoras.

— o —

Asgarnen, Ithilien

"Lord Tathar?"

Looking up from the documents he was perusing, Tathar pushed back from his desk. "What is it, Erynion?" he asked the elf standing in the doorway.

"The border guard sent a runner to report two riders are approaching from the direction of Osgiliath. Captain Ruscion believes it could be Lord Legolas and a lady. They have two pack horses with them as well."

Tathar raised a brow in surprise. "He is long past due, and we have heard no word from King Elessar or Lord Gimli, so perhaps he has finally returned home."

"But not alone," Erynion reminded him.

"It is likely," Tathar said, "that another changed their mind about sailing and decided to return with our lord. A lady, did you say?"

Erynion nodded.

"Perhaps, Anoriel decided to come to Ithilien," Tathar mused, "instead of sailing West. She and Legolas have always been close, even for siblings. I will ride out to meet them. Call my horse."

Erynion bowed his head with a fist to his heart before stepping back out of the office.

Tathar stood and left the room, stepping out into the bright afternoon sunshine. He took a deep breath, enjoying the early summer breeze. He hoped it was indeed Legolas returning home. Tathar would have only his own duties to tend and time to spare for one of his favorite hobbies: trout fishing.

The rumbling of the brook nearby called to him.  

Soon, he thought and smiled.

Tathar rode south on the elven path, which ran from Asgarnen, past Henneth Annûn to Osgiliath. He would never tire of the beauty of this land. Truly it was a garden, rather than a forest, and the air was heady with the scent of summer flowers in full bloom. Trees of many kinds filled the woods of Ithilien: ash, bay, beech, cedar, cypress, fir, juniper, myrtle, oak, and olive trees. And sprinkled throughout North Ithilien were Tathar's favorites: the beautiful culumalda trees. Tall and thin, their golden-red leaves glimmered in the sunshine.

As Glauri cantered down the path, Tathar could feel the trees' mounting excitement. The tree-song lightened his heart and he realized they had missed Legolas as much as the elves of his colony had done. Yes, their lord was returning home, for only he could arouse such a response from the forests of Ithilien.

But it was something more, Tathar realized. The trees were rejoicing, the birds were flying about with song, and he saw a herd of deer in a clearing all standing with their heads raised and looking south. It was as if the whole forest were anticipating something.

Curious now about just who travelled with Legolas and could cause such a reaction, Tathar pushed Glauri faster down the path.

She slowed as they neared a turn in the road, and tossed her golden head, sending her creamy mane flowing along her golden neck. Soft nickers rumbled from deep within her chest as she caught what Tathar guessed to be Daehul's scent.

As they rounded the bend, he caught sight of two riders trailed by two pack horses.  Tathar knew the tall grey stallion on sight.

The horses were trotting towards him at a clipped pace, but slowed as they saw him. Daehul neighed in greeting, and Glauri returned his call, her gold neck arched prettily as she bent her head, her chin nearly touching her chest as she pranced for the stallion.

Tathar met Legolas's eyes and grinned at his old friend. "Greetings, my lord! A pleasure indeed to have you returned to us on such a fair day."

His eyes drifted to the person riding beside Legolas, and the world faded away.

Mounted on a fiery red gelding with flaxen mane and tail rode a mahogany-haired vision with eyes like the sea. He understood the response of the trees now.

Tathar felt his breath hitch at the sight and he gazed upon her unaware of anything else around him.

"Ahem."

The sound of a throat being cleared snapped him out of his trance. He realized Legolas had been speaking to him, and he had not heard a word of it.

"My lord?" Tathar asked. He felt his ears heat as he turned his dazed, blue eyes back to Legolas. He wished now his hair was not pulled back in braids, for it would have hidden his embarrassment.

Legolas gave him curious look, then shrugged and repeated, "I asked how things have fared in my absence, but perhaps I should skip to the introductions?"

The warmth spread across Tathar's cheeks, and at Legolas's raised brow, he told him, "I am only surprised to see you accompanied by a lady, my lord. I had assumed Anoriel had chosen to delay her departure, but I see I was mistaken." It was a poor explanation for his reaction and he knew it.

But Legolas did not question it. Instead, the prince said, "Nay, Anoriel left with my father and brothers. And it is a long story to explain my delay and," he inclined his head at his companion, "the lady's presence."

A soft snort brought Tathar's eyes back to the woman. He could not say what it was about her that drew him so, for upon second glance, he saw that she was not overly beautiful, not in the same was as Lady Arwen. But she was very pretty. And there was just something about her that inticed him.

To his astonishment, the woman rolled her eyes and reached out to smack the prince lightly on the arm. "I am not a lady! How many times must I remind you of this?" she asked playfully, laughing when Legolas smirked at her, revealing a level of comfort between the two that surprised Tathar.

Then he realized what she had done and said, and before he could stop himself, Tathar retorted, "Probably as many times as he tells you to stop calling him 'my lord'!" He met her startled look evenly. "My lady," he added, bowing gracefully, even while seated upon his horse.

She groaned and turned back to look at Legolas. "He is just as bad as you are!"

And that was when Tathar decided he had to get to know this woman. He smiled at her and dismounted.

Legolas and the lady followed suit, and Tathar stepped forward to grasp Legolas's forearm tight, before pulling him into a brotherly hug. "You have been missed," he told his friend. Then he stepped back and waited for Legolas to make the introductions.

Legolas had turned to the lady and said, "My lady, I think you will find this one is worse than I." He smiled and gestured to Tathar. "May I present Tathar, Lord Warden of Asgarnen and Captain of my personal Guard. Tathar, this is Lancaeriel of Eryn Lasgalen. She will be joining our colony and," he smirked, "learning the fine art of healing."

Tathar bowed, then straightened with another smile.

But Lancaeriel had turned to Legolas with a look of disbelief, and with a quick motion, landed a smack on the back of his head. "You are impossible!" she told him.

Legolas rubbed the back of his head, but grinned at her with a mischievous light that caused a sinking feeling deep inside of Tathar's chest.

His smile faded, and he covered his sudden discomfort by frowning at her. "Lady Lancaeriel!" he told her sternly, "I must insist that you cease assaulting my lord in such a manner."

She froze, her eyes widening in alarm. She gave him a wary glance, but he winked at her. "You will knock what sense he has from his head and then we will have little use for him."

He could feel Legolas's glare, but Lancaeriel stood blinking at him a few moments before she laughed and said, "I see you have spent some time in Gimli's company, Lord Tathar. I do believe I am going to like you."

His heart leapt in his chest, and he grinned back at her.

"Only… you will call me simply Lancaeriel, please?"

She gave him a winning smile, and Tathar was powerless to resist.

"As you wish, Lancaeriel. Welcome to Ithilien."

To Be Continued…

Tathar - Legolas's second in command, Lord Warden of Asgarnen and Captain of the Prince's Guard. He is also one of Legolas's most trusted friends and advisors. He has made appearances in other stories of mine, including Never Again, Seemingly Forbidding Crags and most significantly, with Blákári in The Trees Were Burning.

Erynion - Tathar's assistant.

Ruscion - Captain of the Border Guard.

Glauri  - Tathar's palomino mare.

Author's Note:  Legolas's colony of Asgarnen lies in northern Ithilien, north of Emyn Arnen and not far from Henneth Annûn and Cair Andros, which is where the lovely culumalda trees that the elves love so much, are indigenous.

Thank you for reading!