Sorry this chapter took longer to post! Hope you enjoy!
Chapter 4
Thranduil dismissed his advisors and leaned back in his chair. In one hand he held a crystal wine glass, glistening in the dusky half-light of the underground chamber. He drew his other hand across his forehead wearily. There had been an orc raid towards the south, a group of men wanted to build a city near the Lonely Mountain – Dale, they were going to call it, and there were rumors that Dol Guldur was restless. He would have to send Feren to investigate Dol Guldur. The men could build their city wherever they chose so long as they did not intrude in Mirkwood. The orcs… He would have to send someone after them as well. Thranduil stood and walked across the room, setting his wine down untouched.
He glanced toward the door, his unnerving sixth sense alerting him of someone's approach.
Legolas entered. Giving a brisk bow, he met his father's gaze directly. "You summoned me, hîr nín(my lord)?"
"I did." Thranduil turned and picked up his wine glass again. "Orcs were seen gathered near the Old Forest Road. I want you to organize scouting expeditions to regularly patrol the southern border." He eyed Legolas intently over the rim of the glass as he lifted it to his lips.
"I will see it done," the prince replied.
A strained atmosphere existed between father and son since the queen's death. Thranduil knew he was to blame for it. He had shut himself away from everything and everyone after the tragedy. When he finally emerged and sought out his son, he knew instantly that he had waited too long. Legolas's heart had also broken and Thranduil had not been there to mend it. The cure to helping his son evaded Thranduil. No, that was a lie. He knew the cure but couldn't bring himself to use it. It would take Legolas leaving Mirkwood and that was something Thranduil could not bear. Not yet. Perhaps Legolas would not need to leave. Ever since Tauriel's arrival, his step had been lighter. Something in Legolas's eyes which reminded Thranduil of hercould be seen just beneath the surface. Legolas seemed hopeful again.
The thought of Tauriel reminded Thranduil of another matter. "Tauriel is adapting well to her life here?" he questioned.
Something flashed across Legolas's face. "She is, Hîr nín."
Thranduil nodded and took another sip of wine. "I have considered giving her a position here. It would be something to keep her occupied. She has a bright mind for one so young." The king paused and cocked his head slightly to one side. "You know her well. What do you suggest?"
Legolas did not hesitate. "Captain of the Guard."
Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "Captain of the guard," he repeated incredulously, "Is she capable of it?"
"I believe she is. I will help her at first, but before long she will be able to handle the guard herself. She learns quickly," Legolas added.
Thranduil looked long at his son, but then agreed. "Very well. You may tell her whenever you judge the time to be right." He turned, signifying the interview was at an end.
"Adar…(father)"
Thranduil stiffened and turned back to face his son, an expression of surprise showing in his eyes.
"Will you ask her, Adar? Perhaps at Mereth Nuin Giliath (the feast of starlight)? It would mean more coming from the King."
Composing himself quickly, Thranduil nodded. "I will… ion nín… (my son)" The words felt foreign on his tongue, but like those one would want to learn the meaning of— and say often.
"Hannon le," Legolas replied.
Precious silence passed between king and prince, expressing more than words ever could. Then Legolas bowed and withdrew.
Thranduil remained standing where Legolas had left him. The king sighed as if awakening.
"Ion nín…"
§
The perfect stillness of winter's first snowfall foreshadowed Mirkwood. From her latticed window, Tauriel observed the change that had come over the forest. She could feel the trees sleeping now. Their breathing had slowed. The butterflies had departed until spring when they would return to keep their fluttering vigil over the woodland realm.
A smiled played at the corner of her lips as she waited expectantly for the prince. Not once had he missed their training sessions. Gradually, Tauriel had become confident with the wooden blades. The skills Legolas has assiduously taught were become natural and smooth. She had even crafted a few of her own. They never surprised the prince though. With a slide of a foot or fluid flip of his wrist, he always managed to thwart them. But afterwards he would say, "Use that move again." And Tauriel would blush with the understated compliment.
Tauriel turned to see the prince as he came through the entrance to her chamber.
"Did I keep you waiting?" Legolas asked.
Tauriel shook her head, glancing out the window. "I was admiring the change that had come over Mirkwood."
"Indeed, it has," Legolas agreed his eyes never leaving Tauriel.
As she stepped towards the door, Legolas stopped her. "Bring your daggers."
"My daggers?" she inquired, shock evident in her voice. The prince nodded.
Tauriel hurried to the chest where she kept her father's knives. She drew out a leather wrapped parcel and glanced at Legolas. He nodded encouragingly. With care, she undid the bindings and picked up the two shining knives. Memories of her parents flooded over her, yet no longer brought heartbreaking pain. Tauriel felt only a deep love and peace from the knowledge that they were in Valinor.
They walked through Thranduil's Halls side-by-side in silence until they came to the courtyard where their practices took place. Legolas moved to the middle of the court. Ignoring the rack of wooden blades, he drew his twin knives. The handles were a blonde, nearly white wood, smooth with use and glided with gold as were the silver blades. To look upon them brought to mind the ancient legends of mithril.
"Shall we begin?" Legolas asked.
Tauriel swallowed nervously. "With these?" she asked looking at her father's knives.
"I trust you."
"A im estel cin, (and I trust you)" she thought, realizing this truth for the first time. If there was one person in middle-earth she could trust completely, it was Legolas. Estel, the elvish word for trust had a dual meaning. It also meant hope. Legolas had given her both.
At the first crossing of steel blades, a thrill of excitement coursed through Tauriel's veins. The two elves twirled and slid, side-stepped and dodged in choreographed perfection. The clash and slice of the blades as they met and parted, met and parted, shivered through the icy air.
Silent and sparkling, snowflakes slipped in between the elves as they swirled about each other. The knives, extensions of each elf, danced in perfect harmony.
Tauriel caught the prince's blade and using the pressure of the two knives as an axis swung behind him. Catching Legolas's other knife while keeping her position behind him, she ducked and held the two daggers together by adjusting her grip. Legolas brought all the daggers together with a steely snap. He pulled forward, simultaneously turning.
Tauriel didn't resist the tug as she had before. Using the light covering of snow to slip forward, she came up in front of Legolas. With their arms above their heads, the knives locked in a flowerlike clasp, they paused. Both were breathing heavily, eyes shining.
And Legolas smiled.
It was a beautiful smile, a transforming one. The icy reserve shielding him after his mother's death melted away. Tauriel understood now. The veiled glimmer in his eyes these past months was hope. And as they stood there, the snow falling gently about them, their daggers poised above their heads, Tauriel reflected that hope.
"Do I still remind you of the moon?" she asked humbly, staring into the prince's eyes.
Legolas's smile broadened. He was beaming. "Yes," he replied. "But Tauriel, this moon is on fire."
The End
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! :D I hope you liked it! Any suggestions for future Fanfictions that are set in Lord of the Rings, Hobbit, or Silmarillion? Thanks again! - Rosie Cotton
