Disclaimer: Love them I do, but unfortunately, it is not to be. The lawyers have armed themselves with Uruk-hai, and since I regularly fall out of my chair when frightened, I don't stand a chance.
AN: All hail! Rebell's expanded to include the entire Fellowship! One-shot's abound! The style of this story will be mainly oneshots all fitting together over a larger picture. This should mean (I stress the word 'should') that the number of cliffhangers will be kept to a minimum. I hope that's satisfactory to all. Though, I can't really promise anything, because, as certain people have pointed out, I am evil.
Possibly the most important thing I have to say here, is that this fic is a mesh of book-verse and movie-verse, with slight allusions to popular belief here on the site. I've tried to keep things as canon to the books as possible, but some certain things just work better for the sake of the fic if they were tweaked. More information is at the end of the chapter! Enough with the long AN. Onward!
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Samwise Gamgee had been acting awfully strange during the past three days. Frodo had noticed, despite the gardener's protest that all was well, and his master should be eating more and paying attention to his own welfare. The dark-haired hobbit had made a conscious effort after that to pay more attention to Sam, though his friend was now trying to act as if nothing was wrong. Sam was many things, but he was not a deceiver and so Frodo saw right through him.
On that third day, Frodo had approached Merry and Pippin and before he could open his mouth, they had begun to ask questions about what was ailing Sam. They conversed amongst themselves for near to fifteen minutes before consecutively deciding that none of them had a notion as to what was going on. Now burning with curiosity, Frodo went to Aragorn, closely followed by his younger cousins.
The ranger listened to the hobbits' concerns about their friend calmly, taking out his weapons and laying them side by side upon an oil cloth for inspection. "What are his symptoms?" he asked, gray eyes scanning the length of his knife for any imperfections.
Frodo's brow creased at the cool tone of the query. He could not help but feel that Strider was being far too casual about the whole thing. Didn't he care about Sam's health? "He is very distant, like he cannot focus on anything. Is that some sign that something is wrong? We only left Rivendell three days ago." He paused, considering. "He's been like this ever since we started out, as a matter of fact."
Aragorn turned to regard the hobbit in question. Sam was currently starting a fire, but his hands often slowed as he gazed out into the distance. He had been at the task since Frodo had gone to converse with Merry and Pippin and he had yet to reach for his fire-starter.
The Dunedain's gaze flicked about, following Sam's own, and was hardly surprised to find that it rested on Legolas Greenleaf. He was well-aware of the halfling's fascination with the fair beings. It did not amaze him that Legolas would be the source of Sam's distance of late.
The woodelf was perhaps a hundred feet away from the camp, staring out into the gathering darkness. The evening twilight made him appear ethereal, his pale features standing out in the dusk. He had made a point of staying well away from the group, and in fact, had not spent more than forty minutes with them out of the past seventy-two hours. He volunteered for all watches, and even when Aragorn refused, insisting that he rest, he did so in a tree, cradled in its branches. To any who did not know his usual outgoing personality, it would seem as though he was unapproachable.
To Sam, who had gotten used to talking a little with elves during their time in Rivendell, Legolas's seemingly deferential behavior both confused and entranced him. He obviously wished to talk to the wood-elf, to engage in a conversation and to ask questions. But twas difficult to do so when the flighty creature refused to come near anyone! Aragorn thought ruefully.
He looked back at the hobbits, who were watching him expectantly. He clapped Frodo gently on the shoulder and said, "Fear not little ones. I know what ails him." He glanced again at Legolas. "And I intend to have a little talk with it." He stood, sheathed his knife, and made his way over to his old friend, leaving behind three very confused halflings.
He passed Boromir and Gimli on his way, inwardly smiling as he heard their conversation of which drink was better, dwarven ale, or Gondorian beer.
Legolas turned briefly as the ranger came up beside him. "Hello, Aragorn."
"Mellon-nin." Aragorn replied. "I need to speak with you."
"It seems that you are already doing so."
Aragorn chuckled softly. "We would enjoy such wit around the campfire. Why don't you come and have dinner with us?" Legolas's face stiffened and he looked back out into the wilderness. Aragorn took the response as a quiet but resounding 'no'. "Why have you been so quiet, my friend? We will all be together for a very long time. It's the least you could do to try and make some friends."
The wood-elf took several steps forward, stopped with a sigh and turned back to face his friend. "Aragorn, I do not think... I think that that is not a good idea."
"Why not? If you are worried about not fitting in because of your... elfish-ness," Legolas smiled at that, "you are sadly mistaken. You need not worry about what they will think of you. In five minutes you will have them all eating out of your hand. Samwise would do so now, if you would but talk to him."
The wood-elf shot a glance back at the camp and met Sam's gaze for an instant before the hobbit blushed furiously and lowered his head, finally getting a spark to kindle. Aragorn continued, sensing that he was very close. "You could talk with Boromir of battle strategies, share stories of Mirkwood with the hobbits... Mithrandir you know fairly well, and as for Gimli..." Legolas's eyes flashed. "You could simply ignore him." Aragorn finished lamely.
"Aragorn, you know all too well how difficult it can be to forge friendships. Our own is proof of that."
The ranger turned, began to make his way back to the camp. He paused and said softly, "Elrond chose you to come for a reason Legolas. Your skills as a scout and warrior will be needed before the end of our journey, but you are also one who can keep our spirits lifted. Do not let that skill of yours go to waste." He continued on, leaving Legolas behind to think on that last comment.
--
Later that night, the Fellowship gathered around the fire to receive their dinner from Sam, who was also the cook that night. They had just seated themselves when Legolas appeared out of the gloom, quiet as a cat and startling them all, save perhaps for the Maiar, and Aragorn, who smiled into his soup, pleased that Legolas had chosen to make an appearance.
The elf sat gingerly next to the ranger, bowl in hand, and reached for the pot of soup and the ladle, aware of the stares he was receiving. Sam jumped up and snatched the ladle first, surprising the elf and causing Aragorn to stifle a snicker.
"Here Mr. Legolas sir, I'll get that for you."
Legolas reached out and gently took the ladle from Sam. He said, "Please don't trouble yourself, Master Samwise. You've cooked it, you need not serve it." It was the first time they had heard him speak since the Council, nearly two months before.
Sam sat back, blushing furiously at being addressed as Master Samwise. He watched as Legolas ladled soup into his bowl and leaned back into his place by Aragorn.
Supper progressed quietly after that, the hobbits watching Legolas as he ate, Gimli shooting glares in the elf's general direction, Boromir exchanging glances with Aragorn (one of them confused, the other reassuring), and Gandalf puffing away on his pipe.
Legolas remained cool and calm, though on the inside, he was cursing Aragorn. Why had he agreed to this? He should have stayed outside the camp, should have remained distant--
Just as he was about to stand and retreat, one of the halflings whispered something to the other. Peregrin to Meriadoc, if he was not mistaken, and the whisper wasn't meant to be heard. But his sharp ears picked it up anyway, would have even if everyone else had been talking.
"Do you suppose he knows everyone else's name?"
Merry looked back in surprise and leaned in to whisper, "Pip, I'm sure he does. Even elves are required to know the names of the people they are sent on a quest with."
Pippin looked down at the ground, blushing. "I just wondered."
The elf fought to hide a smile.
Pippin regarded Legolas once more, the elf apparently fixated on his meal. He leaned in once more and said wistfully, "I bet he knows a lot of stories."
Merry's eyes widened. "Pippin, you're not going to ask for one, are you? How many can he possibly know? He looks younger than we are!"
The youngest hobbit shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I'm bored!" he hissed back. "Besides Merry, he probably knows lots of stories of the old world, and I'm so bored I'd even pay attention to a story about the creation of Middle Earth!"
Legolas turned to face them then, and the whisperers had the grace to look both ashamed and nervous. "You would not wish to hear about the world's creation, nin tithen perrianath. While it is fascinating to some, I find that many prefer stories of things that they better understand."
Pippin's ears pricked up at that, sensing that if he played it right, he would get a story after all. "What do you mean by that, Mr. Legolas?"
"Just Legolas, if you please. I do not care much for formalities."
"But you called Sam 'Master Samwise'," Merry said curiously. "If you care not for formalities, then why do you refer to others as such?"
"Well," Legolas replied slowly, a bit taken aback by Merry's questioning. "It is my nature to do so, as I was raised to show respect and courtesy to others. I simply dislike being called by formal titles. I receive enough of that treatment at home."
Merry nodded thoughtfully. "You're from Mirkwood, are you not?" At Legolas's nod, he asked, "You know the king then?"
But his question was over-rode by Pippin's clear voice, "Could you tell us a story of the spiders? I hear they're dreadfully large."
Legolas turned his head from one to the other, and was forced to twist further to regard Frodo as the ringbearer chimed in with, "Of course they're large, Pip! Don't you remember Bilbo and his stories about those very spiders?"
Sam's low addition to the suddenly general discussion about Mirkwood and the spiders was simply, "A story sounds right nice. We could all have a little smoke while we listen."
Legolas raised his hands for silence, but not before he heard Boromir's deep rumble of agreement, caught Aragorn's go-ahead nod, and noted with some annoyance Gimli's grumbles of prancey elvish stories. Gandalf seemed immune to the whole thing, watching with amused grey eyes from behind his cloud of pipe-smoke.
"Very well. A story it shall be. But first, I must answer a question." He turned to Merry, pinning the young hobbit with his deep stare. "I do indeed know the king. He and I have had many disagreements over the past years. The last resulted in my coming to Rivendell to bear the news of Gollum's escape."
"Did he exile you?" Pippin asked, his own blue eyes wide. "Why did you and the king have so many arguments?"
Legolas shot Aragorn a swift look. How could it have escaped the hobbit's attention that he was Thranduil's son? Even Gimli was aware of the fact, and Gimli was... well, a dwarf! He had a vague notion that he knew though. His royal title was never fully mentioned, as most of the council was composed of elves who knew him well, and dwarves who would likely take offense (Gloin in particular) if they knew who's son was present. He had simply introduced himself as Legolas of the wood-land realm, bearing a message from his king.
He supposed that if one was not familiar with the looks of the royal family, it would be very easy to assume he was only a noble's son, or something to that effect. He looked around at the attentive faces of the hobbits, and couldn't help but smile.
His entire face softened as he did so. It was a first for the hobbits; they had never seen the wood-elf crack a smile. He had remained aloof, fine features cool and distant. Now those features were lit by his smile, and warmth flooded into his eyes, making him appear a different person entirely. This was someone you could talk to.
Legolas received a shrug from the ranger, and knew that no help would be forthcoming. That infernal man was going to leave him to the mercy of the little hobbits and their questions. Ah well, it is probably all his idea for me to 'integrate' myself into 'the Fellowship'. Dratted human. He was severely tempted to pick up the soup pot and dump what was left over the ranger's head, but suspected that it would be more trouble than it was worth.
Instead he considered his answer and went for the truth. "King Thranduil may be stern, and he may have a fiery temper, but even he would not exile his own son."
The hobbits gasped, and then all began speaking at once. Once more, Legolas found himself besieged by questions. Even Frodo, by far the most reserved, was asking whether or not Legolas had seen Bilbo during the Five Armies War, and how growing up inside the palace had been.
"Tithen perrianath... how am I to answer one question if there are three more being asked at the same time? And besides... I thought that you all wished to hear a story?" At the eager nods, he turned to Pippin, who was waiting with bated breath. "Since you brought it up Master Peregrin, it seems only fair that you decide what kind you would like to hear. I do indeed know many of the old stories though I appear young by your standards." Merry turned a little red at that, but Legolas did not press the matter. "Romance, battles, adventures, tragedies... I know many of each. What would you like to hear?"
Pippin thoughtfully twirled a curly lock of hair around his finger. "I would like to hear a story about you, Legolas. Something from when you were younger, or maybe an adventure you had. Whatever springs first to mind."
The elf was silent for a moment, during which the company took the opportunity to ready their pipes. Aragorn watched the elf carefully, wondering what kind of story Legolas would choose to tell. His friend certainly had a number of tales, be they silly, serious, fun, or frightening. He was fairly certain that the tale wouldn't be too fearsome, but he also knew his friend would not edit anything out of a story, preferring to stick to the unbridled truth. With the occasional clever embellishment, of course.
Legolas smiled again, and settled against a tree trunk. "I shall tell you about an adventure that took place almost seventy years ago."
The hobbits exchanged a look. Legolas did not look much older than twenty now, let alone older than seventy, even in hobbit reckoning. Not surprisingly, it was Pippin who asked, "How old are you?" He studied the elf's face carefully. "You can't be more than a hundred."
"I shall never begin the story if I am asked more questions," Legolas scolded, but the twinkle in his eyes belied the joke. "Since I am well into my twelfth century, I would say that it is definitely possible for me to be over one hundred."
The hobbits were silent, trying to process this new information. Legolas took advantage of the quiet to begin his tale. "Sixty-seven years ago, we would most probably not be having this conversation. I was not quite so willing to speak to the other races, particularly that of Men. I will tell you how that changed…"
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AN: And so it begins.
Now then: as you hopefully picked up on, this fic takes place during the earliest days of the journey of the Fellowship. According to reliable sources, it took the group approximately nineteen days to journey from Rivendell to Moria, including their time on Caradhras. This is their third night out, and if Legolas tells a story every night until Moria (or even going slightly into Moria), that should make for about sixteen chapters, more if I decide to split a story up if it's particularly long.
One final note: In the book, it is only briefly mentioned that Legolas is Thranduil's son, something pointed out to Frodo by Elrond when the hobbit is introduced to the Council. My fellow fanatics will know that this is never mentioned in the movies, and even while being introduced to Eomer, it was 'Legolas, of the woodland realm'. I can't tell you how many times I had to explain to people who hadn't read the books why Legolas was wearing a silver circlet at the end of Return of the King. For story purposes, this fic will follow the movie in that the hobbits and Boromir were unaware of our favorite elf's royal heritage until revealed. If there are any further questions, feel free to ask in a review (coughhintcough) or a PM!