Chapter 22   Secrets Revealed

It had become a pleasurable tradition for Adar and son to share a quiet moment whenever Legolas returned from a patrol or some other errand that took him into danger and so he had gone directly to Thranduil’s chambers with his news of Dol Guldur. The prince was not surprised to find that the King was aware of the returning evil to the south and that the icy fingers of the cold hand of the nameless dread gripped his heart. Nor was he surprised to learn that Lothlórien’s eye was once more fixed on the tower across the Anduin. Although he kept his realm in some isolation, Thranduil nonetheless held the Lord of Lothlórien in high regard and some affection and was able to far speak his distant kin when necessary, as it was in these dangerous times. The King of Mirkwood was no fool and while he respected the power of the Istari, and that of the Elven ring bearers, he could not deny the capabilities of their formidable foe. Sauron was not a force to be underestimated, even in his disembodied state.

“It is well that you and Tathar escorted the Imladris brethren and Estel back to the ford, for there has been ever increasing Orc activity in the past few days, and Celeborn tells me the same is true of the borders of the Golden Wood,” Thranduil said as he handed his son a goblet of wine and settled opposite him in one of the pair of armchairs placed before the small hearth.

They were seated in the roomy alcove to one side of the King’s bedchamber that served both as a private study and refuge from the sometimes burden of kingship. There was a large archway leading out into a secluded garden, and along the wall opposite the fireplace stood elegantly carved cupboards whose shelves were home to many books as well as an assortment of the gifts a very young Legolas had made to his parents in happier times. Above the mantle, in pride of place, was a portrait of Thranduil and Elisiel, painted with very little skill, but much love. The artist’s signature, written in letters that indicated one who had not yet mastered the written word, simply said: “For Ada and Nana,  with love, Legolas.” A wistful sigh escaped the King’s lips and Legolas looked up to see the cause, smiling as he thought back to the day the painting had been presented.

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Lessons had never been one of Legolas’s favourite pastimes, for his free spirited nature resented being kept indoors when there was so much to do in the forest. Had it not been for the fact that Tathar had already mastered the skills of reading and writing, the young prince would have tried his hardest to avoid lessons altogether. As it was, this particular day he had another reason not to attend his tutor, but it was a secret he did not wish to share, so he tried another approach after Thranduil denied his first request to be excused.

“But, Ada, my friends will be lonely if I do not visit them every day,” he had protested, his face a picture of such sadness that Thranduil almost relented.  

“Neither the trees nor the deer nor the butterflies will mind if you tend to your learning first, and they will still be there this afternoon when your lessons have ended for the day,” he said, trying his best to sound stern. Legolas knew better than to continue arguing and meekly agreed to do as he was told. Whether by some twist of fate, or by design of a higher power, the reluctant student was surprised to find his tutor send him from the classroom when a message arrived informing the elder Elf that the Queen required his assistance with translating an old scroll she had found in the library.  Elisiel had overheard the debate between father and son, and had decided to surreptitiously intervene in this instance.  

Silently promising his Nana an extra big hug and several kisses, Legolas ran to his chamber where he was pleased to find that Tariel, who he had sworn to secrecy, had provided the necessary materials for his surprise.  

“What are you painting?” asked Tathar as he entered the room and saw his friend standing before an easel. The younger Elf was so engrossed in his work that he failed to hear Tathar move to the table that was covered with many small pots of colour, but was soon alerted to his friend’s presence when a dollop of cold blue paint landed on his neck. An enraged pair of eyes met with ones filled with sparkling amusement.  

“Be careful! You will damage the picture!” he shouted, moving so that his body was now between his work and his friend’s aim. With no hint of movement, Legolas then proceeded to reply to his assault in kind, scoring a direct hit with a nice shade of green on Tathar’s nose. The war had begun, and after several minutes and a concerted effort to avoid hitting the painting, both warriors were rolling around the floor laughing at each others paint splattered appearance.  

“Nana will be furious when she sees the mess on the floor!” commented Legolas when he had finally settled back to his work.  

“Not to mention the rainbow coloured tunic you are now wearing,” added Tathar wickedly. “This is not bad, for an Elf your age,” he added as he studied the portrait of the King and Queen. Legolas glared at the friendly insult or was it a compliment? He was not certain, but decided not to retaliate, for he needed Tathar’s help with the words he wanted to add to the bottom corner of the painting.  

“Then since you are so much older and think yourself so clever, will you make sure my letters are written correctly?” Tathar nodded as he quickly read the words Legolas had written on a piece of paper.  

“Ai, mellon nin, the scrawl… I mean…writing is a little difficult to read, but the letters are correct. Even if they weren’t your parents would think nothing of it,” he said reassuringly. “I take it this is your mid-Summer gift for them?”  

It had been, and although he had been forced to gently reprimand his wife for her aid in their son’s plans, Thranduil was extremely pleased with the painting and praised it highly. Fortunately Legolas had thought to depict his Ada wearing his crown of leaves; otherwise the King might not have been exactly certain which of the figures was meant to represent him. Legolas took his Ada’s threat to punish Elisiel seriously, and so offered to clean the mess in his room as a form of penance.  

“By all means you and Tathar must take care of that task, and I suggest you wash your tunics as well, but do not worry about me. I like the way I am to be punished,” Elisiel had told her son who did not notice the look of desire that passed between his parents.  

Legolas smiled as he returned his thoughts to the present, only now realising what his Nana had meant.

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“We did encounter a small band of about ten, but they were soon taken care of,” said Legolas in a manner that indicated no cause for concern. “Estel fights with almost the same skill as an Elf.”

“Estel? The son of the Dúnedan that Elrond is fostering?” asked Thranduil with some interest. “I did not realise you two had met.”

“Nor had we, until now. He is an intriguing Man and I believe we will be good friends,” commented Legolas. A flicker of displeasure lit Thranduil’s eyes, and did not go unnoticed by his son who frowned slightly.

“You disapprove of such a friendship, Adar?”

“Legolas, you may chose your own friends as you see fit, but I admit to some reservations in regard to you becoming close to one whose days are already numbered,” replied Thranduil, rising to move closer too his son and kneeling before him so that he could gaze into eyes that could not hide from the ageless depths of his Adar’s. “You have already experienced too much grief; I would not see your heart harmed further.”

“Tathar said the same thing, but my heart has become stronger than you think,” commented Legolas affectionately squeezing the hands that held his.

“Then we will speak no more of this,” said Thranduil as he stood and moved to his desk, and retrieved a map that he placed in the small table beside his son’s chair. “It is well that you returned early, for I need you to warn the remaining villagers in the south. Doubtless they are also aware of the evil that invades our shared forest, but it will do no harm to make certain. These are the only areas still inhabited by Men,” he said pointing to several red crosses on the map.

“It will take us several weeks to reach them all, but both Tathar and I will be ready to leave before noon tomorrow,” said Legolas.

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True to his word, it was several hours before midday when the two rode across the bridge and set off on their errand. Whilst they lost the ability to travel stealthily on horseback, Thranduil had insisted they travel in this manner for it would make the journey faster and thus the exposure to danger less. Since most of the villages were on the outskirts of the forest or in the scattered woodlands on the borders, it was decided that the wisest course would be to follow the river.

If the villagers were surprised to find the two Elves bearing warnings, they were not as amazed as the bearers who were surprised to find that the news of the increased danger had already reached the first two villages on their route. That the word had been brought by a young man who was on a lone pilgrimage south only piqued their curiosity. Legolas and Tathar wondered at who this reckless stranger might be but soon learned his identity when they reached the third settlement.

“Legolas! Tathar! What brings you two so far from your forest home?” asked Estel as he clapped them both on the shoulder in a friendly greeting.

“I could ask you the same, Estel,” replied Legolas, smiling with delight at this unlooked for meeting.

“I will answer, but first let us avail ourselves of the hospitality of these kind folk,” he said as he ushered the Elves into a small hut that had graciously been given to him for the night.

“So let us hear your tale,” said Tathar as he eyed the Man warily.

“It starts with my return to Imladris for it was on that day that Lord Elrond revealed to me my true heritage, and the name given to me by my father,” he began.

“Aragorn,” said Legolas. Both his friends glared at him, obviously he knew more than either of them was aware. “Lord Elrond told Adar and I when you were first brought to Imladris and we were sworn to secrecy. He sought our cooperation in ensuring the anonymity and the protection of Isildur’s last heir.”

“So you are the rightful King of Men?” commented Tathar. Aragorn nodded.

“Yet I do not wish to take the crown,” he replied.

 “Then why are you wandering alone in the wilderness?” demanded Legolas.

“I came to warn the villagers of the return of the Dark Lord before joining with the Rangers in the North where I truly belong,” Aragorn explained.

“Then I suggest you accompany us, and once we have completed our task we will escort you safely back through the Misty Mountains,” said Legolas. The words were friendly, but had the edge of a command, and Tathar was astounded to see Aragorn agree without complaint. That he would defer to the advice of the Elf spoke both of his wisdom and his humility and impressed Tathar greatly.

Over the course of their errand, they encountered a few rogue bands of Orc, and managed to destroy a spider’s lair that had encroached too close to one of the villages, and the friendship that was kindled between Aragorn and Legolas burnt now with a strong, steady flame, and while Tathar was not as enamoured of the uncrowned King as his friend, he nevertheless developed a healthy respect for the Man.