First Meeting of Old Friends
Legolas tapped lightly on the heavy wooden door that lead into Estel’s bed chambers. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet and swayed from side to side in anxiety. He lifted his hand up and splayed his fingers so that they delicately tested the bandage wrapped around his brow. The wounds were no longer bound as heavily as they had been the day before when he had arrived in Imladris. Now there was a single strip of white cloth wound around his head twice to hold the dressing beneath in place.
As he slowly lowered his hand and began his turn to leave there was a quiet call from inside the room. Legolas couldn’t quite make out the words that were spoken but he took a chance that they were bidding him to enter and reached for the handle of the door. The metal felt warm beneath his fingers and his hand lingered there, feeling the intricate design etched into the handle.
“Hello?” The word from inside the room was spoken louder this time and Legolas was pulled into action as he pressed the handle and pushed the door open.
The room was dimly lit by several candles placed strategically about. The curtains covering the window were pulled closed and Legolas wondered if he might have woken the room’s occupant. He gazed around the room taking in details. The set-up was very similar to his own. A fireplace sat to his right, a small fire burning within. Two large, cushioned chairs sat before the fireplace, a warm looking, grey blanket sprawled over the one furthest from him.
On the wall directly opposite of where he stood was a rather large, picture window. Sunlight peered between the curtains but offered little light. A large bureau stood just left of the window, several jars and glasses sat atop of it. A long, sword and scabbard leaned powerfully against the wall. A bow and empty quiver just next to that.
“Legolas?” The voice came just from his left where a large bed was positioned. Legolas took a few steps toward the bed to get a better look at the occupant. He was young, possibly nineteen or twenty. Short, dark hair adorned his head and would have appeared well combed but for the slight curl it held giving it an unruly appearance. Bright eyes stared back and a smile filled the handsome face. A fading bruise marred his left jaw. He sat, somewhat awkwardly, leaning against a rather large stack of pillows. Most surprising, he was human. Legolas stared at the young man, curiosity beginning to get the better of him. The individual that had been with him on the day that he was attacked by men, was a man. He had trusted a man well enough to be traveling with him alone. Yet, he didn’t fear this man. As a matter-of-fact, when he looked at this man he felt comfort, admiration and loyalty.
“Please sit Legolas.”
Legolas moved cautiously across the room and took a seat on a padded chair that stood just right of the bed. “I apologize if I have woken you. It was not my intention. I was told that you wished to speak with me.”
Estel’s head turned and a soft, sorrow filled, sigh pushed from his nostrils. “You did not wake me. Thank you for coming.”
Legolas sat back deeper into the seat and crossed his right foot over his knee. He subconsciously padded the letter from his father that lay just inside his tunic. “I would have come sooner but I could not find your room.”
“Worry not. I am just overjoyed to see you again.” Estel shifted in his bed in an attempt to sit up further but the movement sent a jolt of pain down his back and he hissed in pain.
Legolas nearly sprung from his seat at the sound and moved quickly to Estel’s side. “Can I help you? You should not be moving about so much.” He gently slid his arm behind Estel’s back, being careful to not aggravate the wounds, and eased the injured young man further up before stacking the pillows so that they would hold Estel higher up. “Is that more comfortable?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Estel paused momentarily, taking in his friend and Legolas couldn’t help but notice the compassion he saw in the man’s eyes. “You have always been somewhat of a mother hen.”
Legolas felt shock at the casualness of the statement and looked to Estel for any sign of jest or seriousness. A smile spread over the young man’s face and Legolas contemplated the statement for a moment. “I was nagging?”
Estel laughed out loud at the question and it took him a few minutes to regain his composure. “Yes, you could say that. You have a habit of being annoyingly overprotective.” Legolas’ expression did not mirror that of Estel’s and the young man ceased in his mirth immediately, his smile instantly replaced by a look of concern.
“Perhaps if you find some of my behaviors aggravating it might be wise to not remind me of them. Maybe then you will be spared from a lifetime of exasperation.” Legolas had regained his seat and now sat perched forward on the edge, looking intently into Estel’s eyes. Estel seemed to stumble over his next words, not knowing what to say or how to move past the uncomfortable moment. But before he could think on it for too long, Legolas let out a small chuckle and leaned back in his seat, his face lit up with amusement.
“Grrr! Legolas. I thought I had truly upset you.”
“Nay. But it does seem wise to keep a few secrets.”
Estel’s expression returned to complete seriousness. “I would not keep anything from you Legolas. Anything that you wish to know, I would tell you.”
Legolas sat quietly, thinking of all the things he wanted and needed to know. His hand had, once again, risen to the letter in his pocket and rested there on top of it. The folded pages seemed to give him comfort. For so long he had wondered about his family and whether he had a home and friends. The answers to his questions could be found in the words on that one page alone and the more he thought about them the more he longed to meet the one who had written them. But, he also knew that there was a history with this man named Estel, and he knew that he could learn much from him as well.
Estel, the name alone gave him assurance that all would be well. That he would forever be safe and cared for by those he had met only days earlier. It seemed so odd to think that he actually had known these people for years. Some of them for his entire life. It saddened him to be reminded of what strangers they were to him now. How much of his life had been lost.
Now, here was this man, promising to tell him all that he would ever wish to know, but where should he start? Centuries had been lost, not just days. Long periods were gone. He could only recall vague moments of days that he didn’t understand. He would see faces but not conjure up the names to go with those faces. Where should he begin?
“Why were we in the forest that day?” It seemed as good a place as any. Maybe working backward would make the remembering easier.
Estel seemed confused by the question and Legolas assumed that it could only be because the man had expected a much more different line of questioning.
“You had come to Imladris bearing a message for Lord Elrond from your father.” Estel lifted his knees so that he could rest his arms upon them as he spoke. “You were given permission to stay a few extra days and had agreed to accompany me on a short scouting mission. Well, at least it was supposed to be short.”
“Do I carry messages for my father often?” Legolas was curious now as to his role in his father’s realm.
“Nay. Only when they are of extreme importance or your father believes that you are in need of a break from your duties at home. I believe the latter was the purpose for your visit this time.” He smiled to the elf and Legolas couldn’t help but return the warm, friendly expression.
“Lord Glorfindel told me all that you had said of the events that day. Do you remember nothing else?” Legolas’ heart ached to know all that had occurred that day. Small bits of his life would appear to him at strange times but never would anything from the day of the accident come to him.
“No. I have told him all that I remember of the incident. The last that I recall is fleeing on the horse then I awoke here, in my room.”
Legolas’ head tilted in confusion. “Your room? Do you live here?”
An understanding smile spread across Estel’s face and Legolas felt himself blush in embarrassment. “Aye. I have lived here with Lord Elrond and his family since my father was killed when I was just a babe. They have looked after me and guided me in all aspects of life and I am honored to know them. As I am you.”
Legolas smiled at the nice words and leaned in for more. “How did we meet Estel?”
Estel’s expression now showed some confusion as he pondered the question. “I do not really recall the day we met. I was very young. I am told that you and your father had come to Imladris on business and I was instantly taken with you. We have had many small adventures since then though and I would be willing to recount those to you whenever you would like.”
“Thank you Estel. You certainly make me feel more comfortable.” Legolas leaned back in his seat again and placed his hand upon the letter again. “What can you tell me of my father? Of Mirkwood?”
Estel’s legs slid from their bent position, falling flat beneath the heavy duvet and he sat silently for a moment. Had Legolas not discussed this same topic with Elrond earlier he might have been concerned but he didn’t think the Lord of Imladris would lie to him. He just wanted to hear another’s opinion of his father. He wanted to know that his father was the man that Elrond spoke of and not just to the Lord of Imladris.
“King Thranduil frightens me.” Estel raised his hand to stop any response that Legolas might have to this statement. “He can be rather intimidating at times. He commands respect and he gives it only to those who deserve it. But, he has been nothing but kind to me and he loves you so fiercely that I fear sometimes it will smother you.”
An image of a tall, refined, blond elf burst into Legolas’ head and his hand instinctually flew to his bandaged wound. The vision of his father filled him with love. The kind smile upon the elf king’s face and the warmth in his intense eyes filled him with ease. Various images flitted through his mind, times where his father was commanding, comforting, angry, laughing joyously, crying inconsolably, ruling furiously. His father was filled with passion and Legolas could see that in his demeanor alone.
“Legolas, are you well?” Estel’s concerned tone pulled Legolas from his memories and his hand fell from his head.
Being smothered by his father’s love would be something Legolas would welcome at the moment. If his own father’s affection were even a fraction of what he had received from Adras then it would be twice as much as he had hoped for. The words made him even more eager to return home and he found himself fidgeting in his chair as he continued to speak with Estel.
“I am fine, thank you. Please, continue. Please tell me of my home.”
“Mirkwood is a forest unlike any other I have visited. There is a life there and even though I can not hear the song of the trees I feel as though I can hear them when I enter Mirkwood. It is hard to give words the feeling, sights and sounds that those woods invoke. One should experience them for themselves. It is a marvel to behold.”
Again Legolas was assaulted with memories. Woods so dark that it seemed as if no light could ever pierce its branches. But then there was a light there. A light so bright and brilliant that it seemed as though nothing could suppress it. The trees sang and spoke to him as though they were old friends, and many of them were. Legolas wanted to return home.
“Legolas?”
A smile spread across the young elf’s face and he turned tear filled eyes to Estel. “I can see my home Estel. I can see my father. They are wonderful. They are more than I ever dreamed they would be.”
Estel returned Legolas’ smile and tilted his head to the side to assess the elf who was one of his dearest friends. “They are wonderful Legolas and when you return there they will be even more wonderful.”
The pair talked long into the night. Legolas recounted for Estel his experience with Adras and the small village he had spent so many weeks in. When he became dismayed and tearful at the mention of his lost friend and protector Estel listened with an empathetic ear and comforted Legolas. When he asked his questions of his own past and home Estel was eager to answer and was complete and thorough in his explanations in hopes that the words would help Legolas’ full memory to return.
Several times was a hand raised to knock on the bedchamber door, but the visitor would hold their intrusion when the sounds of laughter or quiet weeping would fill their ears. They were left in peace to talk and catch-up and reacquaint themselves with each other only needing each others companionship and words. The jaw session was therapeutic for both and Legolas knew that when he decided to return home to his father that he would forever have friends in Imladris.