Author: Wren
Summary: A young Legolas struggles to complete the ancient Warrior's Rite, a trial all young warriors must face. But the resulting adventure soon raises far more trouble than he expects; leading him to his first encounters with Orcs, spiders, and finally, men.
Disclaimer: The following story is completely fictional. Any events similar to those in any other story are completely accidental. The author is in no way affiliated with Tolkien or any of his associates, and therefore has no legal ties or ownership to the original materials upon which this fanfiction is based. Any original characters appearing herein are the sole property of the author, however.
Author's Notes: This story has been, at present, 2 years in the works. Originally intended as a quick story that I would for once be able to finish, it has drawn itself out much longer than originally anticipated.
The events of this story take place at a time before Sauron, in the form of the Necromancer, took residence in the south of Mirkwood. Therefore Mirkwood is still called Greenwood, and although darkness is seeping into the Great Wood, true evil has yet to fully take hold.
Also, the disclaimer will only be published here, on the first chapter, though it does apply for all future chapters.
I do not use a beta-reader, though I strive to check and recheck my own work (often obsessively). Any faults you may find, whether in grammar, spelling, plot, or in my attempts at Sindarin, are therefore my own. If you find any errors, I would of course love to be notified so I can fix them.
Notes on Legolas: I have long researched what little there can be found on Legolas, especially that pertaining to his age and family. Unfortunately there is little written on these matters, and so much of it has been left up to scholarly guess. It is generally believed, though, that Legolas was born in the later Second Age, or perhaps as late as the very early Third Age. In comparison with other well-known characters, this puts him close in age with Elladan and Elrohir, the sons of Elrond, if not somewhat older than them. As to his family, nothing is ever mentioned of his mother, though he certainly must have had one, nor is any mention made of any siblings. Popular theory in analyzing probabilities mostly concerning his roles as sentinel, emissary to the Council of Rivendell, and participation in the Fellowship have leant towards the idea that he is not the Crown Prince of Mirkwood, but a younger child of Thranduil. For every fan of this notion there are those that adamantly oppose it, and so there remains no definitive answer.
While I have been a rapt student in discovering such things, my stories often play with his actual age, particularly in relation to the ages of Elrond's sons. I also alternately choose to have him have siblings, while other times portray him as an only child.
Notes on Elven Aging: The approximate equivalent ages of elven children in human years is another subject up for individual interpretation. The little Tolkien provides is that elves physically age much slower than humans, though with greater physical and mental prowess. What he did say was that they reached their adult height by age 50, and full physical maturity by somewhere between 50-100 years.
For the purposes of this story, Legolas appears to be the approximate age of 9 human years. I have decided that, according to my own reckoning, this puts him at 25. I have also decided for this story to have him slightly younger than the twin sons of Elrond.
Reviews are most welcomed!
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A gentle breeze blew through the dense forest, stirring the fallen leaves of seasons long past. Overhead the tall limbs barred much of the sun's light, creating an intimate, shadowy atmosphere that leant the illusion of a hidden world, completely isolated from the influence of the world beyond. Birds chirped contentedly from the plentiful boughs, secure in their private wood, mindless of the figure who had paused far below them to listen to their merry melodies.
The individual was an unusual sight for the few forest's inhabitants who happened to take note, for though clearly an elf by appearances, he seemed far too young to be venturing on his own. Upon his back was slung a small pack with a water skin tied to its side, indicating he was a traveler. Dressed as any elven warrior, in an earthen jerkin of mossy green, and leggings the shade of bark, adorned with a bow and full quiver, as well as a small assortment of knives – he could easily be mistaken for a patrol guard, if not for his markedly smaller stature. His face also told of his limited number of years, and still held all the vestiges of childhood.
Several of the creatures proclaimed their discovery of the young onlooker to their neighbors, and soon the trees were flooded with a din of curiosity and concern, for each knew of the dangers that could be found within the outlying forests of Mirkwood.
After a few moments Legolas resumed his trek, soundlessly traversing through the endless wood. A small frown marred his cheery countenance as he caught fragments of the tittering chatter. It required a great deal of control to force himself not to add his own comments to the conversation.
"I am not as young as they think me to be, nor am I unable to mind myself in the wilds," he inwardly argued. "I am a trained warrior, fit as any to contend with whatever perils I may happen upon." Though his anger at the forest beasts belied his attempts at seeming more mature, he felt his reasonings were sound, and his mood quickly brightened. It also occurred to him that in pure numbers of years, he was quite the elder to the nearly any creature he was likely to run across in this wood.
Only after a series of similar thoughts cycled through his consciousness did he realize the childishness of his aggravation. A pink tinge lit his cheeks as well as the tips of his ears, and he dropped his eyes to the forest floor in a gesture of shame at his own foolishness. With a deep breath, he again raised his gaze, prepared to resume the serious mindset required for his expedition.
"Focus. Concentrate," he recited in a well-versed mantra, mimicking the teachings of his tutors. Immediately his features became hardened with the intensity of his thought; his lips pursing together as his mind was forced to focus its entire capacity on his surroundings.
"Expand your senses, my prince; feel the forest, embrace its spirit," he heard his field mentor, Lawlaeg, urge, as he had on their countless lessons on field excursions. Just as he'd been trained, the young prince concentrated, and was rewarded a few moments later by the exhilarating connection he formed with all the bountiful life around him.
A proud smile pulled at his lips as he savored the sensations he never tired of feeling. He could feel the life pulsing within the trees; feel the location of each of the tiny animals that made it their home. He could feel the calm strength of Ennor beneath his feet, as well as the brilliant intensity of Anor in the sky. He could hear the soft roar of the turbulent Anduin, several leagues away, and hear the whispered knowledge of the gentle winds that swirled through the trees.
It had scarcely been a decade since he had mastered the skill of honing his senses so that his was attuned to nature, and several years less that he'd been able to accurately interpret all that he perceived. Though still a feat that required conscious thought, he found it easier to achieve with each passing day. He reasoned that that had been one of the objectives of his mission, along with gaining experience in surviving the vast wilderness.
With the voices of the natural world humming through his veins, he set out again, following the whims of the breeze. In truth there was not a designated destination for his travels, merely the requirement that he continue moving from day to day - exploring and learning his way around the unfamiliar portions of his father's realm.
After traveling for several minutes, Legolas allowed himself to drift into a meditative state, one that offered him the benefit of being able to travel large distances without tiring. It had not always been an instinctual response, but after years of training, he had succeeded in mastering the unique elven skill, just as he had gained the ability to expand his senses.
A slight change in the wind's temperature drew him from his trance, causing him to quickly assess his surroundings to the bounds of his sensual reach. Though aware of his locale throughout his journey, he still suffered some disorientation when he left the waking reverie, and required a moment to reassert his position. He immediately noticed the change in the songs of the birds, and sensed an alteration in the activity of the animals. He cast a glance skyward, which confirmed his suspicions. Anor had nearly completed her journey, and was now bidding farewell to the lands of Ennor, before bowing to the silvery reign of Ithil.
The young prince smiled, inwardly thanking the sun for her company that day. He sighed softly before letting his gaze fall to his surroundings. Reaching out with his heightened senses, he located a small spring a short distance from his position, and began heading for its shores. He took a small drink from his flask and sharply realized how foolish he'd been, for the container was completely dry.
"Never allow yourself to run out of water. Food can be scavenged for, and if need be, forgone, but water is a necessity," he heard Lawlaeg advise in his deep, stern tone. Feeling slightly guilty for his inattention, the elfling jogged the distance to the shore more hurriedly than he'd planned.
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Notes on Elvish Names:
Lawlaeg – "Sharp Ears" (pronounced L-ow-lag)