Chapter Seven
Lanky, dark green trees ran along the path side in regularity, bending over the track. The only radiance being able to reach through from the sky was a thin, strained light that struggled to slip past the leaves of the trees, which were dangling lazily overhead. If one were to look upward, all that would greet them were bowed tree branches with large green leaves that were protruding from slender twigs, a dim glow leaking from behind them, the only evidence that the sun was indeed choosing to shine that day. The relatively wide dirt track underneath the two Elves' feet was well worn, and turned smoothly at random intervals.
The forest had a condensed feel to it: the air was muggy and damp, yet the weightless breeze that wound through the trees brought about comfortableness. There was no sound, save for the occasional whisper of the leaves when they gently collided with one another in the wind.
Legolas quickly rummaged through his mind, trying in vain to imagine some sort of conversation starter. The Elf walking beside him had not said a word the entire journey and they must have been moving for at least a half-hour now. Slipping his eyes to the right to see Idril, he noticed that the expression on her face showed that she did not particularly wish to undergo a conversation with him. Her face was a complex mixture of boredom, aggravation, weariness and slight flashes of panic, and she had not looked at him since they had set out.
"Your mother seems nice," he stated, hoping that this would somehow bring about an interesting response.
"Uh…yes. Yes she is, your Highness."
Legolas forgot his quest for conversation, closed his eyes lightly in slight irritation and halted, which caused Idril to stop in her tracks also and stare with curiosity at the Prince.
"There is no one around but you and I. You need not address me formally. Two thousand years ago I was but 'Legolas' to you; I should hope this still applies."
They began walking again, and Idril said nothing, only glancing over at Legolas' face. It was focused ahead and solemn, yet his eyes were shining – even the dim morning light of the forest did not erase the twinkle in his eye. Whether it was of cheekiness, knowledge, happiness or a combination of the three, Idril did not have time to find out. Legolas had turned his head the other way, to the trees on the left side of the path, and was now walking straight towards them. Idril followed, intrigued as to what had attracted Legolas' attention.
He lay his hand softly on the trunk of a tree, and then let it trace its way down the bark. He turned towards Idril, his lips slightly separated.
"What was it that your father used to teach us always - about the trees, and their voices?" he asked softly, wonder and fascination in his speech, which caused Idril to smile.
"He is still teaching me. He reminds me of it regularly," she replied, a hint of light-heartedness in her remark. "In a forest, everything has its own voice and can hear us. If we only had time and patience to listen, we would hear them all."
"Ah yes. I am afraid I do not have the time nor, and I wholly admit to it, the patience to hear those voices these days. One day I will, though. One day I will walk away from the palace, walk far away, and just listen to what the trees have to say," declared Legolas, ending his speech with a nod towards the birch tree in front of him, signifying only to himself that it was a promise.
He closed his eyes dreamily, and breathed deeply for a moment. Opening his eyes, he looked over to Idril. Smiling, he lowered his eyes bashfully and stepped off the foliage of the forest ground, and onto the road again where the two continued their walk.
"Your father – does he still teach forest lore?"
"Not to any individual outside of family. He…" Here she paused before continuing slowly and carefully. "He believes that there are more important matters to tend to at this moment. The raising of his son, as an example."
Legolas murmured an 'mm' in perception. Quickly after, however, he inclined his brow in confusion and opened his mouth slightly, jiggling lazily a pointed finger.
"And the cane of his – what of that?"
Idril's mind raced through answers, before finally settling on a suitable one.
"His cane, my Lord, is due to an injury he acquired a while back… please do not speak more of this. It is quite an intimate matter."
"Oh. Yes, yes, of course."
Silence gently fell between the two as they continued their walk. They said no more for what seemed like an age, until at last Idril decided to speak up and curb the silence.
"I told your messenger that I was unavailable this week, your Highness. Why did you come? I specifically requested that you do not."
"I wished to see you."
"But you sent a messenger to seek my answer; I told him that I am busy."
"I am well aware of that."
Idril scrunched her face up in disbelief and disgust, and widened the gap slightly between Legolas and herself. Legolas just looked at her briefly then focused his attention back on forest road.
"There was a young one at your home," he stated, still facing forward.
"Yes."
"Is she of your kin?"
"No."
"A friend perhaps?"
"…I suppose."
Legolas paused in his questions for a moment, rolling his eyes over to Idril. She was walking confidently, occasionally glancing over at random trees on her side of the path. It was obvious that she was going to speak no more, and for once in his life, the Prince Legolas had no clue as to what to say.
For some time they walked in silence, neither of them wanting to speak: Idril, as she was already aggravated enough at this Prince and did not want to encourage that irritation; Legolas, for he felt unsure of what to say and how to say it – a rare thing, indeed.
A nimble wind flittered across Idril's face and through her hair, causing it to rise in one wave. In this motion, her hair stirred from its resting-place over her ear. Legolas thought nothing of it at first when he saw, half-hidden behind Idril's left ear, a long scar. However, a double take made him place a hand in front of Idril's body, in order to cease her step. Pushing back the strand of hair that was usually covering the scar, he tenderly traced over the wound, worry and confusion crossing his fair face.
"How did this happen?" he asked, lowering his hands. Idril inhaled deeply and turned her body towards the Prince.
"Legolas, my Prince, why do you wish to know?" she asked, although not in inquisition. The disguised harshness in her tone of voice signalled that she demanded an answer from Legolas. His brow was still slightly dipped in concern, yet his surprised eyes showed that the arrogant answer from the usually meek Idril was completely unexpected. And to her question, Legolas did not know of the answer himself.
Noting his silence, Idril released a spent sigh and proceeded her saunter. Legolas watched her walk for a moment before following and catching up.
"You are angry with me," he said, a slight allusion of amusement in his words.
"In all honesty, yes," came the instant reply.
Legolas thought about this briefly, pouting his lips a little in judgment and nodding to himself.
"I see. And why is that?"
Idril wrung her hands, although not necessarily in anxiety.
'For how much longer I can endure this stroll I am uncertain.'
She shook this grumbled thought out of her mind, tossing it back onto the path behind her.
'He is the Prince. He has the power to make your life worse than it is. He could take away father, Eldanén, everything.'
"Your Highness, with all due respect: you cannot treat people – your people – in the way in which you are. You do not care. People look up to you, and all you do is take advantage of your status. I acknowledge that you were born into this, but you should have been learned by now that as a Prince, you are expected to protect and sincerely love your kingdom, not merely represent it."
Idril heeded that she had ended her speech harshly, and looked up at Legolas in despair to witness his reaction. His face was unchanged, save for one slightly lifted eyebrow, yet his step had hindered.
"I am sorry," said Idril, flitting her eyelids shut in regret and sorrow.
"Do not be sorry."
Ticking her eyes open and crumpling her despaired face in simultaneity, Idril replied in hesitancy.
"Oh?"
"You are right."
To this, Idril had no idea as what to think, and solely stared at the ground in shocked amazement, widening her eyelids. She considered her situation, and played repeatedly in her mind the previous conversation. Yet, this still did not aid her utter confusion. Her brow driven deep down onto her eyes, she faced Legolas again.
"I am afraid I do not understand, my-"
"I know you do not. I do not ask you to. I am well aware of my reputation, and I am quite sure that you expected me to become irate as a result of what you said, am I correct?"
Idril said nothing in fear of uttering an insulting remark; she had already said too much. Hence, as a reply, she provided Legolas with a mere shrug of the shoulders.
"Are you afraid of me, Idril?" Legolas asked in a friendly manner, placing a hand on Idril's arm to slow her pace. Instead, she stopped altogether and whirled her body towards Legolas, her eyes transfixed on the ground.
"Prince Legolas…" she began, and rose her eyes upwards to meet his. They were kindly and, for the first time in all her 2,420 years, she noticed that they were laden with a mature wisdom, which greatly comforted Idril.
"It is not you that I am afraid of; it is the power which you hold as a Prince. It has been many winters since we were young and great friends. Conversation is now awkward, and I must pay you much more respect. Things are not as they were."
Legolas gazed at the woman before him for some time, embracing all she had said, before nodding loosely in comprehension. Slowly raising his hand and placing a delicate finger underneath Idril's chin, he smiled.
"It is good to see you again."
This was returned with a bashful smile from Idril, and Legolas dropped his finger. They continued on, a newfound placid silence replacing somewhat the previous uneasiness.
Queen Irethel lightly stepped through the great doors, nodding politely towards the two servants who were pushing them inwards for their Queen. She gazed around the enormous room for a minute, standing with exceptional posture; and her fingers interlaced, hanging loosely yet elegantly, down from her arms. The library was the oldest and largest room of the palace. Books and parchments from even the First Age were stored in this room - now musty in smell and exceedingly fragile. If one was not careful, turning a page may well destroy the book. She watched her beloved husband and King, who had his head down and his eyes completely absorbed in the parchment he held delicately in his fingertips, surveying the scrawled writing on the aged paper.
"My love?"
Thranduil's head darted up, and he bent the parchment towards himself. Irethel merely smiled, gazing at Thranduil, who had his head lightly tilted in expectant inquisition.
"Are you busy? I thought we might go for a walk," suggested Irethel, promenading over to Thranduil, a coy smile rolling across her lips.
"That depends, my dearest, on the purpose behind the walk."
"I wish to speak with you about your resistance towards Legolas and Idril's meeting."
At this, Thranduil brought the parchment up to his face again, scanning the wording for a while and attempting to disregard Irethel's words, before swinging his eyes over the paper and glancing at his wife.
"I am sorry, my Queen. I am much too busy."
"…I also wish to talk about Mablung."
Thranduil's eyes ceased their rapid movement, and stared vacantly at the parchment.
"Do you predict that this will be a lengthy walk?" he asked flatly.
"No, my love."
He blinked, and gave the paper one last darted perusal before setting it facedown on his writing desk with utmost care. He rested his fingers buoyantly upon the edge of the desk, and enclosed his eyes in thought.
"Let us be off then," he resolved, looking back up at Irethel and patting the desk lightly with his fingers.
Legolas slowed his pace as the couple approached a small clearing. It was fenced by thin trees, which were situated extraordinarily close to each other, their gaunt branches twisted around neighbouring ones. On opposite ends of the clearing were two three-foot wide gaps, where no trees grew. Dirt was lined along these openings, and it trailed off into the forest, forming a pathway on either side of the clearing. In the center was one solitary tree, growing tall and illustrious, branches growing out of its sides at the base and middle. Large green leaves sprouted in tufts along the limbs, growing larger, thicker and greener as they ascended the tree trunk, eventually reaching the tip of the tree.
Legolas walked towards the tree, halting at its base and tipping his head back to try to see the top. His lips ever so slightly curled into a smile in the corners, he lowered his head back down and turned towards Idril.
"Do you remember?" he asked quietly, gently, trying for some reason not to disturb the silence between the two.
"I remember," replied Idril, although it was her mouth subconsciously speaking these words, as her mind and heart were already lost in a blissful memory.
"Idril… Idril, come down now! You are going to kill yourself, and I for one am certainly not going to take the blame."
The dangerously weak branch bounced up and down wildly above Legolas' head.
"What are you doing? Idril, just come down from there…"
"I see it! Now cease your nettling, Legolas. I am perfectly fine."
Idril's feet appeared above Legolas' head, dangling over the tree branch.
"It is not the first time I have climbed a tree. Now turn around. My undergarments are for no one to see – you least of all, Legolas Thranduilion. Shut your eyes!"
Legolas spun around on his heels to face the other way, rolling his eyes as he went.
"Elleths…" he muttered under a sigh. He heard a light, almost inaudible thump behind him, so turned back around to face Idril, allowing an exaggerated and deliberate weary sigh to leave his mouth. Idril returned this with a sarcastically sweet smile.
"Your palace is, on approximation, one league to the East, your Highness," she said, overly kindly and with a plastic smile.
"Thank you, Idril. Shall we go?"
Idril did not answer, and skipped gaily towards the eastern path on the edge of the clearing.
"I suppose we shall. It must be near dusk now, so we must hurry. I am afraid that because we were lost and delayed, we may well miss our supper…" Here she paused briefly, looking at Legolas, and grinned.
"No thanks to your wonderful navigation ability."
Legolas' mouth opened wide in offence.
"It was not I that got us lost. You told me to take the path that leads to that willow tree of yours," he defended, walking towards Idril, who just smirked.
"That is true. However, you are older than I am, and wiser. You must take responsibility," she pointed out. Legolas let loose a satirical laugh of surprise.
"Older, yes – by two years! When we are five thousand years old, two years will be like the pebble on a mighty mountain."
Idril loosened her lips, and dragged in a heavy breath.
"Five thousand. It seems so far away. And we have not yet reached twenty!"
"It seems an age away, true. However, be thankful for our immortality. We have a limitless amount of time to live and enjoy the world that Eru has granted us."
Idril nodded slackly at this, and the two adolescents stood unmoving in the clearing for some time, both minds devouring this thought.
It was true; they did have the ability to live for an eternity, but was this necessarily an advantage? Both Elves pondered this idea: to live to enjoy the natural beauty of their world incessantly was definitely a privilege, but should this splendour end, what would become of the Elves? To be able to live through times when the world is dark and treacherous is of no benefit to the immortal beings of Middle-earth. Having to witness the downfall of the world that they created with exquisite detail would be a punishment worse than death.
Legolas lifted his eyes upwards and stared at Idril through his eyelashes. She had her head bowed, breathing slowly and deeply. She had mature eyes at that moment that could have belonged to Thranduil himself, and were contrasted against her 15-year-old body.
"Well," said Legolas, breaking the silence suddenly. "We shall not get supper, nor tomorrow's breakfast if we linger like this."
At the sound of Legolas' voice, Idril's eyes quickly came back into focus, shooting around the clearing before settling on Legolas' twinkling blue eyes. Raising and lowering her eyebrows quickly once and grinning, she began walking leisurely towards the path on the side of the clearing.
"Yes. And so far, as I am closest to the path, it seems as though I will win and reach your castle first."
At this, Legolas burst into merry laughter, and began running along the path through the thin trees, with Idril right at his heels, wild laughter running from her lips.
Legolas turned his body towards Idril, chuckling lightly. Idril was still gazing at the enormous tree, yet her eyes simply shone with delight and her mouth had widened to form a sincerely charming smile. She dropped her head down and allowed one solitary giggle to leave her lips.
"They were good times; fun times," said Legolas, touching Idril's arm gently. Avoiding Legolas' eyes, Idril's head bobbed up and down.
"Yes, they were," she answered hesitantly, glimpsing up at Legolas, her eyes glowing with sincerity.
"Well," started Legolas, a mischievous smile spread across his face. "We shall get neither supper nor breakfast if we linger like this."
Idril closed her eyes lightly in joy, and allowed her small smirk to expand, transforming into a broad smile that brightened up her weary face in an instant.
Legolas lay a delicate touch of his hand onto Idril's back, and slowly the two exited the clearing and made their way along the well-known path.
