Title: Five Feathers

Summary: My attempt to tell the story of Legolas. A bittersweet fic told through the eyes of Laire, the lover he left behind, Galadriel, his father King Thranduil, Elrond, and himself. Takes place before the forming of the Fellowship, during the quest, and Legolas's return to Mirkwood.

Rating: PG-13 for brief violence, and mild sensuality (Oooh! :D)

Author's note: So you've decided to read my fic, eh? Brave soul. I hope you're not disappointed. I've always found Legolas to be the most intriguing member of the Fellowship, with his untold history. I hope the first-person, present-tense point of view doesn't bother you. I think it adds to the story and gives it its urgency, but if you disagree, please let me know! I'm always open to criticism. Also, I'm no Tolkienite, so if you find any kind of canonical error, PLEASE let me know. I want to be as accurate as possible. Anyway, enough of my rambling. Enjoy, and review!

Disclaimer: Legolas, Galadriel, Elrond, King Thranduil, etc. belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. Laire belongs to me.

Chapter One

Laire, before the forming of the Fellowship

The sun sets over Mirkwood. Light slants across the ground, filtered by the trees. Trees that shelter me, protect me. I can hear their urgent whispers. They speak of a time of darkness that is descending upon us. I can feel it on my skin, taste it in the air, and see it in everything around me. But I cannot accept it. Change comes swiftly to take away what I have known.

For the Dark Lord Sauron is coming back, the trees tell me. He will destroy your home and kill or enslave your friends. He will torture your father, your mother, and your family. He will burn your forest to the ground. He will kill your Legolas. So why do you not cower in fear?

I do not know. I do not pretend to know. I simply place my faith in Legolas. He will find a way. He will help us survive the dark times ahead. He and whoever must join him.

I know the myth of the fall of the Dark Lord. My father was there. He fought in the Great Wars, alongside Elrond of Rivendell. When I was young, my father loved to tell stories of the war, and of the One Ring that had the power to enslave the world. Then, I was deathly afraid that someone would find this ring. Now it has been found, yet I am not afraid. Perhaps it is because I feel safe deep in the heart of this forest. Am I losing my mind? Perhaps. Most are terrified to think that the One Ring of Power is in the hands of a hobbit. But I once met a hobbit in my travels, a Took, and was surprised to find that they are not only stout of heart but strong in their will to keep the world safe as well. I believe that he may succeed, with the help of Gandalf.

I suppose you are wondering who I am. I am Laire, youngest daughter of Ondollo, a merchant of Mirkwood. I have lived all of my life, all 1427 years, in the heart of Mirkwood. This is my home, and though most of the time I loathe it, I will not let it be taken my Sauron's armies. I will defend it until my death, as I will defend Legolas.

The birds call me. They are telling me to return home. I stand up and leave the grove quickly, thanking the gods silently that I chose to wear my breeches today. The birds' voices are shrill and urgent, and there is no way I'd ever be able to get home in time if I had worn one of my dresses. Dresses are pointless anyway; what's the point? All they do is hold you back, I say. But that's not important. What's important is getting home.

I run through the forest, and the branches and vines move out of my way. I whisper to them to be silent. No one must know that I was alone. My father would kill me.

 I arrive at the steps of my home and pound on the door. I am not panting or sweating, but my knees are dirty from where I knelt in the grass. I do not think that Father will chastise me, but nevertheless, I try to brush away the dirt, to no avail.

Father opens the door and pulls me into his arms. I am shocked. Something terrible must have happened. Father is not usually affectionate with me. He is usually yelling at me for being too feisty and talking back to him, or for sneaking away with Legolas in the middle of the night. ("The Prince of Mirkwood! Honestly, Laire!")

"My daughter, I have been searching for you. Where did you go?"

I try to speak but cannot. My mouth is full of the velvet of my father's shirt. He lets me go and I make a face. Velvet tastes terrible.

"I was in the forest, Father. The birds called me. They told me something is amiss. What has happened?"

"Alas, my daughter, the creature called Gollum has escaped! The Prince sent word saying that he was coming back here before leaving again for Rivendell. The Council of Elrond is to decide our course of action, as soon as the Ringbearer and his company arrive at Rivendell. These are not good tidings. We have reason to believe that Gollum has told the armies of Sauron of the Ringbearer and his companions."

I put my hand over my mouth, then lower it slowly to speak. My words are foolish, but I cannot stop them from rolling off my tongue. "Why must Legolas go to Rivendell?"

"He is the messenger for the King. As you know, he was one of those protecting Gollum. He knows first-hand what happened." Father notices the look on my face. "Come inside. I will make you something hot to drink. Do not let this trouble you. King Thranduil will find a way to solve this problem."

I look into my father's eyes and shake my head. Then I turn around and run, straight to the palace. An elven-guard stops me. His fair face is stern and sad.

"What business have you here?" He asks me in Elvish.

"I need to see the King," I respond quietly. He shows no sign of letting me pass. "I have matters to discuss with him. On the journey to Rivendell," I finally add. The guard sighs and lets me pass.

I run into the great hall. My feet are sure and silent on the dark marble floors. I have been this way many times. The King is a great friend of mine.

I arrive at the throne room. King Thranduil is pacing at the foot of the stairs, one hand on his head. I wait silently for a moment, not wanting to disturb him. He notices me.

"Ah, Laire, my dear, what brings you here? Have you heard the news, then?" His voice is so grave and sad that I want to cry. I have not cried for almost five hundred years.

"Yes," I say. My voice cracks. I swallow and try again. My voice is clearer this time. "I wish to follow Legolas to Rivendell. I realize that I am not royalty or even nobility, but I must be with Legolas. I simply must, Your Highness. And I am not leaving this throne room until you give me permission."

The King laughs, a laugh empty of mirth, and walks over to me. He takes my chin in his hand and tilts my face so that he is looking at me right in the eyes. I gaze back defiantly, squaring my jaw.

"Little Laire," he says softly, "you have a stout heart, but I do not believe that this quest is right for you."

I pull away, angry. "I know you do not believe me, Your Highness, but I swear on my brother's grave that I will not fail you."

He shakes his head and turns his back to me. "Go home, Laire. Legolas must do this alone."

Angry tears stream down my cheeks. "So I shall just sit at home and wonder constantly how he fares, whether he lives or dies? I cannot do that, Your Highness. With all due respect, I do believe you're wrong. This quest is right for me. How can I prove this to you?"

He spins around. Now he is angry. His eyes flash. The King is not used to having anyone defy him. "You cannot even shoot an arrow or swing a sword! You are a common maiden. You are not meant to fight in wars. I do not care if you love my son. You are not following him to Rivendell."

I wipe away the next tears that stream down my cheeks. "What if I only follow him to Rivendell, and no further? I will sit silently at the council. I will simply listen. I will not speak and disgrace your name."

"And when Legolas agrees to carry the ring to Mordor? What will you do then? Nothing? I know you, Laire. You will follow him to your death. I cannot allow that. Now, go!"

I try to argue more, but my mind tells me not to. I turn and run away, down the corridors. I collide with someone and fall on my backside. I look up and see Legolas's grave dark eyes staring into my own pale green ones.

"Why such a rush, love?" he asks, helping me up.

I wipe away my remaining tears and smile. The motion hurts my face. "I was simply speaking to your father," I say, trying my best to seem untroubled. He sees right through me.

"I was about to do the same, but now I reconsider. Tell me, what is amiss?"

"Nothing," I tell him. The look on his face makes me start again. "Everything, then. First Gollum escapes, then you are to be sent to Rivendell! I asked the King to let me follow you, but he would not listen."

Legolas laughs. Oh, how I missed that laugh. I have not seen him for so long. How can I let him go again?

"You know very well that under no circumstances could you follow me. We are not even supposed to be lovers. You are betrothed to another." He looks up at the sun, which is obscured by clouds, and squints. "I am to help carry the ring to Mordor. Under no circumstances could we ever be together."

"It's a small wonder that Nárello even bothers to remain engaged to me. Everyone knows I'm not faithful to him," I say gloomily.

"Some are more faithful than others, Laire," he tells me with a grin. I smile sadly back. He kisses me quickly on my forehead and then runs down to see his father.

I watch him leave. More tears stream down my face. Come back, my prince, come back…do not go to Mordor…

My heart breaks so loudly that I swear I hear it echo through the halls.