Chapter Six

Legolas circled the magnificent beast, tenderly caressing its coarse, white hair with the back of his knuckles in gradual, but short, strokes. He gently rose up, swinging a leg swiftly over its back, and combed his fingers through the horse's mane. It had been a long while since the Elvish princeling and his horse were last coupled.

Comfort came easily to Legolas as he settled down on his horse, and Andúnë did not flinch in the slightest when he felt the weight of his master sink into his back. The two instantly fell into the sense of unity they shared in old times, when Andúnë was but a young and eager colt, and dreamt of nothing more than to please his revered master.

"It has been much too long, Andúnë."

A short kick from Legolas was all it took, and Andúnë trotted obediently out of his stable. The dark orange of the sunrise could barely be seen through the thick trees - its beautiful light only dimly igniting the moist, thick air - gesturing to all in Mirkwood that yet another day had begun.

It was neither a long nor a wearisome journey to Legolas' destination; at least that was how it seemed. Time passes swiftly when one is delighted or amused, and the ride to the Súlorn home was not in the least bit boring. Indeed, many of the beautifully dreary paths that had once passed through Mirkwood had been destroyed – by either spiders and their viscous webs, or sheer forgetfulness of the Wood Elves to tender to the path.

As Legolas reached a fork in the road, his choice of direction was immediately clear. One lead down a dry dirt path, overhung by green trees and ferns; the other, Legolas could see was blocked off further down by a fallen tree, which was now inhabited by snakes, spiders and other considerably unpleasant creatures. Large spider webs were cloaked along the line of tree trunks, and the path was rocky and harsh.

Andúnë was not a dumb animal, and quickly turned down the path on the right. As the two made their way through the forest path, Legolas soon became aware of the road's gradual widening. Slowly the Sun was rising in the East - behind Legolas - and was struggling to reach the tips of the trees, which served as quite an effective barricade between the skies and the depths of the Mirkwood forest.

When the Sun had revealed half of itself over the looming trees above, Legolas could just faintly hear the burbling of a stream ahead. Andúnë's head was lifted high; he was a horse of the Royal family and certainly looked it. At the sound of water gurgling, and a sharp call of some sort of bird, his raised ears twitched.

Soon, he had halted suddenly in his tracks, and his ears stood as high from his head as possible. Confusion crossed Legolas' brow, and he lightly kicked Andúnë, but the horse stood as still as stone. It was only then that Legolas heard it also – a soft tapping on the ground, moving steadily towards them. Legolas promptly jumped off Andúnë and, beckoning the horse to follow him with one move of his hand, stepped into the Forest brush on the side of the road. Standing still and sideways, he hid himself behind a large tree on the side of the path. Andúnë smartly moved further away into the thicket, cautious not to make too much noise.

Legolas and Andúnë stood there for some time, Andúnë occasionally leaning down and silently grabbing grass between his teeth and chewing it thoughtfully. Legolas only stood in reticence, not wishing to breathe too loudly, and ceaselessly keeping a watchful eye on the road.

The rapping on the ground became louder and clearer with every long breath Legolas inhaled.

Suddenly, a small figure burst forward into Legolas' view, skipping highly and merrily. Although Legolas was comforted by this, he dared not show himself just yet, as the tapping was still approaching. The small figure returned to Legolas' view, walking slowly past him this time and returning to where he came from. The body was clear enough to Legolas that he could now determine that it was a child – it had a lean physique, and youth danced in its eyes.

"Come on, father!" he squealed, and ran back across Legolas' vision again. Following him was an older Elf with a cane, walking silently. The only sound he made was a light tapping as he paced along the path; his cane lightly hitting the rocks carelessly scattered throughout the dirt.

His face was unaged, causing Legolas to wonder about the use of the cane that was aiding his movement along the road. Crowning his head was a dark cascade of hair that outgrew his arms, and he was clad in a simple brown tunic. His face, although not smiling, had a certain familiarity and friendliness about it, and Legolas calmed.

Straightening his stance, he stepped out onto the path from behind the tree. The older Elf did not flinch, and merely gave Legolas a small smile in greeting. The younger of the two however, jumped back in surprise and let loose a small, startled yelp.

"Good morning, Prince Legolas," greeted the elder, bowing to show his respect. Though he did not reach far, for the cane he grasped firmly in his hand proved quite a nuisance. Legolas dipped his head in return and turned towards the child, who was carefully watching his father bowing and attempting to copy.

The older Elf stood back up, and looked at Legolas. His soft grey eyes simply gleamed with wisdom and experience, and with a certain familiarity.

"Prince Legolas your Highness, allow me to introduce myself," he said, placing a hand lightly on his chest. "My name is Mablung. This is my son, Eldanén," he added, gesturing with his arm towards the child.

Legolas laughed lightly in both surprise and delight, extending both of his arms towards Mablung in a friendly manner, before dropping them back down by his sides.

"Mablung! It has been so long since our last meeting. And what a coincidence also, for I am travelling Westwards to meet yourself and Idril."

At this, Mablung's eyebrows shot up, tall and pointed in the middle of the brow.

"Oh?" he asked, clearly surprised. "Well I am honoured, my Prince – although the word 'honour' does not do this justice. Eldanén and I were just taking a short stroll through the Forest. Seeing you, m'Lord, was a bit of a shock and I sincerely beg your pardon for my son's reaction."

Again, he bowed to show his reverence and in repentance for Eldanén's outcry. Legolas watched him bow, his keen eyes following every move; in turn noticing Mablung – the Elf – struggling to lift himself back up to his full height. Once upright, Mablung closed his eyes softly – in frustration or weariness Legolas was unsure of – and when he noticed the Prince's fair face gazing at him, riddled with concern, he gave a weak smile which was then promptly returned.

"Mablung my friend, will you teach to me the way to your home, so I may meet with Idril?"

"Nay, I will not teach you. I will show you – I was beginning to get weary, anyway. I think it is due time that we turned back, Eldanén." He finished with a quick glance over at his son, who was dancing gaily around a large, yet still young, tree on the side of the road. Once Eldanén heard his father's words his face crumpled into a disappointed frown, but he dutifully made his way back onto the road and stood next to his father. With a shrill whistle from Legolas, Andúnë trotted onto the path, walking behind his master and halting to the left of him.

Eldanén stood saucer-eyed, his mouth agape, at the sight of the splendid animal. His flawlessly white coat, his regal stance, his bright, intelligent eyes… he did not even notice his father turn around and start walking back down the path, until Andúnë began to follow. He skipped along the road to catch up to his father whose steps, though quite short, were quick. Legolas walked beside him, tall and postured, and the perfect personification of the word 'Prince'. Before them, the road was lain open by the strained sunlight littered across the ground, and the light sound of trickling water forever present.

Idril gently tugged the ends of the knot, and stood back up to admire her work. Ibby was still situated in the brown seat, but her leg had been hoisted up onto a footstool, and the middle of her calf had a long bandage securely wrapped around it. Behind her, Garhirel had a brush and was tidying up Ibby's hair: not an easy task. She had been going at it for at least a couple of hours now and she was barely halfway through the large mass of hair, which was thicker and more tangled than it looked – if that was possible.

"Where'd your father go off to?" asked Ibby as Idril reached up, standing on her toes, to the top of the old bookshelf, brushing her hand around the shelf blindly. With a tiny jump, Idril brought her hand back down in front of her, firmly clasping a large, but thin book.

"Father is out with Eldanén. I do not suppose he will be back for a while."

"And for once you are not traipsing off with them," added Garhirel unkindly, holding out a strand of hair and tugging at it gently with the brush.

"Is that painful?" she asked, craning her neck to see Ibby, who just shook her head slightly. Idril turned the leather front casing of the book and skimmed through the first thin page. Flipping that over, she began reading the next page: this was stained yellow and light brown with age, and was extremely flimsy.

"What do you do when you're out in the forest, Idril?" asked Ibby. Idril slowly lifted her head up from the book, dragging her eyes reluctantly from the page, upward to the girl's face. Ibby's grey eyes were teeming with curiosity and confusion, and her head jerked awkwardly back and forth from the force of the brush tugging heavily against her hair.

"I go for walks and enjoy the peace, Ibby. Would you not? It is lovely."

Ibby just shrugged a shoulder slackly, and began to straighten a crease in the white dress that had been provided for her by the Súlorns.

"I don't know. It was dark and murky last time I walked through it. Not at all pleasant," she sniffed. Idril smirked and went back to focusing on the book of Healing she held in her arms.

"It is an acquired surrounding, I suppose. I have lived here for over two thousand years and have known no different."

Looking back up at Ibby briefly and smiling, she continued.

"Tell me of Edoras my dear child. I should very much like to know of your home."

She sat down lightly on a dining chair; the book still lying across her palms, her eyes still scanning the pages; then looked up at Ibby, and lifted an eyebrow in inquisition.

"It has been a long while since I lay eyes upon my homeland, and I miss it terribly," replied Ibby sadly, and shrugged her shoulders lightly. "Edoras… it is rocky, that's for sure." Here, she let loose a short, gruff laugh. "We are set atop a hill, with sweeping views of the country surrounding us. The mountains… the mountains! Beautiful they are, rising up tall and majestically, and capped with pure white snow. Mother loved the mountains."

Idril leaned forward, wanting to hear more, but it was obvious that Ibby's speech was finished. The child's eyes were fixed sadly upon her mother's ring, and she did not even acknowledge the vicious war between her hair and Garhirel's brush.

"I am sorry about your mother," remarked Idril gently, and gathered a strand of Ibby's hair and tucked it neatly behind her ear.

The door swung open, and Eldanén's small frame stood in the doorway. He marched in, rejecting the greeting smiles from Ibby and Idril.

"Mother! Mother, the Prince is here! He is here, mother!"

Garhirel immediately stood up from her chair, accidentally knocking it over and bringing it to the ground with a sudden crash. Her hands shot straight up to her hair, tidying it hurriedly, before aligning her dress perfectly with her body.

"Oh heavens, Prince Legolas?" she asked, now busy with trying to make Ibby's hair seem less of a disaster with her fingers. "Are you sure, little one?"

"Yes. Father and I saw him while we were walking, and now they are both coming up the stairs. I went up the ladder, but father and Legolas are using the stairs," he said breathlessly, and beginning to ramble.

"Prince Legolas, my dear," corrected Garhirel, trying to force Ibby's hair straight.

Recognising the confusion in Ibby's face, Idril leant down to Ibby's ear and explained in a whisper:

"My father cannot climb the ladder, he needs his cane. Long ago, when he was strong, he built stairs for an occasion like this. They are around the other side of the tree, and it is easier for him to enter and exit the treehouse."

She quickly glanced up at her mother, who was now busily dusting off any dirt or cobwebs with a crude cloth. Eldanén was just grinning from ear to ear, and occasionally skipping around in a small circle.

"How did he know to build the stairs?" asked Ibby, although she was completely ignored as a door was heard opening and closing down the corridor. Garhirel's head jerked up, and she stepped at a lively pace through the kitchen and then around the corner and down the corridor.

"Your Highness! What a pleasant surprise, it is truly an honour to meet you," was heard from the back door. Idril sighed heavily, and shut her eyes.

"You don't want to see the Prince?" asked Ibby, keeping her voice at a low tone. Holding her eyes shut, Idril smiled and shook her head softly.

"Not particularly. Not today."

"Come in, please. I am Garhirel. It is such a pleasure to finally meet you."

"A pleasure to meet you also."

"Come in, come in, please."

Legolas was ushered into the kitchen, Garhirel following closely.

"My daughter Idril, my son Eldanén… and this is Ibigovia," introduced Garhirel, beaming.

Idril turned her body around slowly, her face encased in aggravation. She had specifically told his messenger that she was unavailable at this time, why did he have to decide to intrude now? She had other matters to worry about, and the constant concern of how she was to act in front of Prince Legolas would only be an annoying distraction.

However, this thought soon disappeared. The realisation that the Prince of Mirkwood was standing in front of her almost became too much: her stomach performed painful somersaults, and the ability to speak vanished. Instead, she spoke through her body, curtsying deeply and bowing her head.

"Your Highness." The words instinctively flew through her lips.

"My Lord, my Prince, whatever brings you to our humble home?" asked Garhirel, smiling beautifully.

Legolas' eyes hesitantly left Idril to glance at her mother, and they were not disappointed for indeed, Garhirel was quite a beauty. Her light blue eyes, light enough even to be classed as grey or even white, were contrasted by her hair: a bright and bold gold, waves rippling throughout it and not a lock out of place. She was a tall elleth, as tall as Legolas, and her pure white dress spilled over her lithe figure perfectly, highlighting her smooth chest and attempting to exaggerate her slim hips. Her head was lightly cocked on its side, her long eyelashes blinking regularly, and her thin, prettily shaped lips were forced into a dainty smile. As spectacularly stunning as Garhirel was, Legolas could not help but focus his attention back on the quietly standing Idril.

"I have come because I wish to speak with Idril once more. I fear our chance meeting at the Festival, not three short days ago, was barely enough for Idril and myself to catch up properly. I desire to do so now, if I may."

Legolas' eyes did not leave Idril's, his exquisitely blue eyes immovable from Idril's deep browns. Eventually, much like at the Festival, Idril could not take the weight of his eyes drilling into her own, and dropped her gaze.

"Oh! Well, that is wonderful. Please go, go with our blessing. The day is still young and the woods are a beautiful place. Go!" exclaimed Garhirel. She ran over and grabbed Idril by the arm, dragging her out the front door. Once outside on the balcony she checked that no one was close enough to hear a whisper, and leaned her body forward to Idril's ear, yet not letting go of her daughter's arm for one second. She placed her mouth an inch away from Idril's ear and spoke in an undertone.

"This is our moment. Let it be known that the we have association with the Royal family. Give us such reputations so that all Elves throughout Mirkwood grant us respect. Disgrace me, and your life will be no better than that of a mine-dwelling Dwarf's."

Her voice was low and hushed, but that did not soften the harshness in Garhirel's voice. She pulled back from Idril and gave her a warning look so fierce, that Idril wished nothing more than to somehow be rid of Garhirel's grip and cower in the safety of her father's arms.

Legolas stepped through the doorway, causing Garhirel to release her grasp from Idril's wrist immediately. Turning on her toes lightly, she smiled innocently, interlaced her fingers across her stomach, and stepped out of the way of the ladder for the Prince to proceed.

Legolas admired the view from the balcony for a moment, enjoying the silence, the peace, and the serenity of the ancient forest that was Mirkwood. This harmony was rare in the palace, what with all of the Elves. Out here, there was no one but himself, the wind and the many trees, which spoke in soft murmurs. Looking over at Idril, who was gazing emptily at the wood floor, he smiled.

"Shall we?" he asked, causing Idril to suddenly snap back to reality.

"Uh… yes," she replied, unsurely. As she began to make her way down the ladder, she caught her mother's eye. This only made her descend with more haste. Farewelling Garhirel with a nod, Legolas followed, and he soon disappeared off the side of the balcony.

Ibby glanced up at Garhirel as she strolled into the house, looking unusually weary.

"Idril's gone?" she asked.

"Yes, yes. Out there… out with the Prince…" Garhirel murmured. She glanced up through her eyelashes at Ibby, who was still in the same position that she was in when Legolas had arrived. Her leg was still propped on the footstool; her back still sinking deeply into the back of the chair; and her hair still a calamity, lightly lying over half of her face. "Do think I was right in leaving her alone with the Prince of our lands? She does not love me – in fact, she despises me – she could very well ruin my life as I know it."

"She will do nothing of the sort," affirmed Mablung. "She is a wise girl, Garhirel. She will not shame the our family in anyway. Trust her."

"Idril didn't want to see him," pointed out Ibby, gaining the immediate attention of Garhirel, Mablung and even Eldanén, who was previously busy standing on a chair trying to reach the top ledge of the bookshelf.

"It's what she said anyway," she continued. "I don't know why."

At this, Eldanén hopped off the chair and shoved it back under the table, surprisingly powerfully for a boy who had only seen ten winters. He stared down at it for a while, breathing heavily.

"Perhaps it is because she is much too busy with other things," he replied in dismay, and walked sadly down the corridor and into his bedroom, closing the door quietly.

"Eldanén, little one, what is the matter?" cried Garhirel, striding down the corridor after her son. Mablung turned towards Ibby. She gave him a small smile from underneath her hair, and he walked over to her, sitting down slowly on a chair.

"I beg you, my dear Ibigovia, tell me more of your dear homeland."

Ibby wriggled her body around in the chair in excitement and grinned.

"All right."

A/N: Things are happening… and a lot more has yet to come.

Thanks to all reviewing and reading - you're my inspiration.

There will not be any Author's Notes for another couple of chapters, when I can actually comment on things. In the meantime, though, reviews (sweet and/or constructive) are very much appreciated!

-Laura.