Chapter Nine
Giving his thighs a quick pat as a resolution, Thranduil dragged in a long breath and exhaled it alongside a contended and calm murmur. He turned his head to Irethel, his eyebrows slightly raised for the sole purpose of appearing natural and innocent. When his eyes fell over her pleasing face, he could not prevent a smile from casually sliding over his face.
'She is heavenly. How is it possible that any living being could lie to one so fair?'
"Irethel, I did not think- I did not think that, perhaps, that Idril necessarily desired to see Legolas."
'Well, it is the easy way out of this but it is no lie.'
"Oh?" queried Irethel, wanting more from her husband's comment.
"Yes," replied Thranduil, thinking earnestly of how he could expand his explanation. "She refused a meeting with him earlier, and the only reason they are together now is because Legolas went on his own free will without discussion with Idril."
Irethel cautiously nodded her head in understood agreement.
"That is true."
Irethel daintily tilted her head, expecting a reply. Thranduil, however, merely sat with his eyes glazed over purposely. The less said, he figured, the better.
Standing up suddenly from the bench, he looked down upon his wife. Her bold grey eyes penetrated through her thick lashes, brimming with a strange, unusual mix of confusion and utter adoration of her King. Oh, how he loved her. She was the only Elf in his lands to whom he granted his full respect. To think that Mablung had nearly secured her heart... she was his now at least. Of course, he now knew why Mablung had rejected her love. He recalled not knowing quite how to feel once he was alerted that Irethel could be his. He was grateful to him for freeing her heart of its commitment to Mablung, yet still wrathful at the prospect of any Elf having the nerve to break such a perfect Lady's heart.
"My love and beautiful Queen," he began, extending a hand for Irethel. She lightly embraced it with her own and rose with the complete grace a Queen is assumed to hold, her eyes never wavering from his. He softly held her other hand, pulling her lightly closer to him; her body willingly agreed.
"Ah, Irethel. I love you," he said, his voice now a whisper. He confirmed his statement by gently caressing her lips with his, before sighing quietly and placing a tender kiss on her mouth.
Legolas swiftly bent down and picked up a fallen flower. It was still young and fresh; its yellow colour had not been extracted fully yet from the cruelness of death. He twirled it around for a moment between his fingers, before turning and offering it courteously to Idril. She smiled at him in grateful flattery, and accepted the dainty flower from Legolas' grasp. Following this, the two continued the walk along the path together, spirits lifted from revisiting their memories.
"What has occurred in your life since we said farewell, all those years ago?" asked Legolas. This was returned with a casual shrug of the shoulders from Idril.
"Not a great deal. I have been whiling away my time speaking with the trees, and taking care of Eldanén, my younger sibling."
"Ah, yes, I met him this morning. A delightful lad, I must say. How old is he?"
"My little Tasarhin entered my life only ten, very short, years ago," she replied, her attention on the flower in her hand as she carefully played with the fragile petals. Legolas eyed the movements of her fingers, before it registered in his mind what she had just called Eldanén.
"Tasarhin?" he asked, grinning as he watched a slow smile spread across Idril's face.
"My nickname for him. Mother hates it, but Eldanén loves it. I gave it to him on his day of birth and it has stuck ever since, much to Garhirel's dissatisfaction."
She raised the yellow flower to her nose; breathing in its faintly lingering scent before it too faded into death, along with the ebbing colour of its soft petals. She rested her hand against her chest, the long flower lightly swaying underneath her chin. She sighed, enjoying the feeling of having pleasant company by her side. She and the Prince Legolas had not spoken for well over two thousand years – it was nice, being able to talk to him again, after such a long while.
'He was a good friend. Only now do I realise how much I have missed his company,' she thought to herself, sinking her head downwards, and allowing a happy smile to glide across her lips. Her next thought, however, caused this smile to pass.
'He is a Prince now. I cannot treat him the way I used to. For Eru's sake, Idril, you must realise that your friendship is dead.'
She mentally kicked herself, trying to shove out all feelings of happiness.
'After this day, I shall never hear from him again.'
It was then that she recognised the elongated silence between them. This day, of all days, had a great chance of being an enjoyable one; she definitely did not want it wasted so continued communication between Legolas and herself.
"My dear Prince, I do not believe that your life has flown by unchanged."
"Indeed it hasn't," agreed Legolas with a slight nod of his head. "I have had to take on my many princely duties, and deal with my father's persistent demands of a marriage."
Idril slid her eyes sideways and looked up at Legolas. He loosened his neck to drop his head wearily, and shut his eyes.
"Do you wish to marry, my Lord?" she asked, not moving her watch on Legolas. He raised his head up again, turning it to Idril.
"I do. Yet only to one whom I love," he replied, shifting his gaze from her to the path ahead. He stared off distantly, and said no more to his answer.
"You have not found love?" Idril asked quietly, gently probing Legolas for a longer answer. Legolas smiled ever so slightly, closing his eyes, and shook his head.
"I have not. The Ladies that I meet either do not interest me particularly, or only wish to marry me for my position as Prince. I have never been in love but I am quite sure that when I do meet my soulmate, I will know that they are the one that I need to spend my life with."
After his words, Legolas and Idril fell into silence.
'Why am I telling her this? She does not understand, let alone want to hear my thoughts on the matter.'
"I am sorry," said Legolas. "I suppose you think me a fool for believing so strongly in love."
Idril halted.
"No."
He stopped also, and moved his body to face Idril. Tentatively, she reached for his hand, and gently folded it in her own.
"Legolas, you are no fool," she whispered, staring heavily into his eyes, trying ever so hard to let him know of her sincerity. "It is beautiful, what you believe. Love is beautiful. Do not settle for anything less than true love, Legolas. I believe that someday you will find your soulmate."
It was at that moment that she realised her fingers were becoming too involved with his, and she released her grasp quickly, returning her arm to the side of her body.
Legolas just stared at her curiously. Did she mean that? No one had ever said something like that to him before. Everyone he had revealed his thoughts on love to had told him that it was wrong to think that way – as a Prince, anyway. So many times had he heard that love was not an absolute necessity for a Royal marriage, and even that it would only bring trouble. Yet, she listened to him. She cared about his thoughts. Moreover, and most surprisingly, she understood and supported his ideas about love.
"Have you ever fallen in love, Idril?" he asked. She was probably being courted by some Elf at this very moment, and engaged to be married, for all he knew. However, Idril returned his query with an amused laugh, tipping her head back.
"No, Prince Legolas," she said through a smile, bringing her head back to view Legolas. "I have never been in love, and I do not think that I ever shall fall into such commitment."
"Why is this?"
Idril drew in a short breath and held it for a moment, pondering her answer.
"I just—I just doubt that it will ever happen," she said. She gave Legolas a quick smile to comfort him, as his face was shadowed in horror and worry.
"Do not misunderstand my words, Prince, for I believe that love would be wonderful, heavenly, and unconditionally blissful. I simply do not anticipate a loving relationship anytime in my future."
"But… but we will live forever. How can you live to see all ages of Middle-earth without experiencing love?"
Idril dismissed a spent sigh from her lips.
'He does not understand. Why can he not just accept that, and cease all questions?"
"Know this, Legolas: I believe that you will find love one day, and I believe that you will marry the lucky girl, whomsoever she may be. Although I do not see it in my future, I see it in yours. Do not marry a Lady whom you do not cherish dearly."
Legolas lowered his head, for now accepting Idril's strange prophecy and smiling at the delightful thought of someday finding love. His eyes found their way to Idril's, thanking her wordlessly.
"Well, Idril, my father certainly does not seem to think the same way as you do," he said, raising his head and continuing his walk along the path, Idril right beside him.
"Oh?"
"He believes that you do not need love in order to marry. He did not love my mother when they were wed."
Idril glanced up at Legolas in silent alarm. His face was straight; he was telling no lies.
"Then why did they marry?"
To this question, Legolas shook his head. However, it was not in lack of knowledge, but in lingering disbelief and disagreement.
"My grandfathers, Oropher and Túrë, were great friends and wished to unite the families. My mother fell in love with Thranduil, but only after years of marriage. For many long months, Irethel loved another."
Idril smiled at this. The Royal family had quite the little love story amidst their history, it seemed. She could have left the conversation at that, but her sheer curiosity became too much for her to bear in silence.
"Whom was it that Queen Irethel loved so strongly, that she had to be forced into marriage with Royalty?"
Legolas turned his head to look at Idril, and raised his eyebrows in surprise and delighted amusement.
'She has not been told.'
Her eyes teemed with curiosity, and they demanded an answer from him. How could he refuse? She had a right to know, after all.
"She loved your father, Idril."
She froze.
"What?"
Mablung unhurriedly walked along the stone path, examining each plant and tree along the way. It had been a long while since the Wood Elf had walked through this forest, his forest. The only sounds surrounding him were those of the low murmuring of the trees and the willow, moving dully in the breeze, and the clear tinkling of the weightless water slipping slowly and easily between the riverbanks. His nose welcomed the fresh, clean air that occupied this site, and he shut his eyes in delectation, glad to be back in this area after many months of unintentional neglect.
He carefully sat down upon the ground underneath the Old Willow, leaning his back against the tree trunk, and faced the stream.
"Father?" asked a small voice.
He whipped his head around, his eyes finding themselves looking upon Eldanén's innocent face.
"Eldanén… what are you doing here, my son?"
He beckoned Eldanén to sit by him. He plonked himself down upon the ground, and Mablung ruffled his hair playfully. Eldanén freed a small giggle, and shook his head, making his curly brown locks become unsettled. He faced his father, blue eyes meeting brown.
"I went for a walk and ended up here," he shrugged. "Has Idril come back yet?"
"Not while I was present in the treehouse, no."
Eldanén lowered his head in disappointment.
"Oh."
A kind smile crossed Mablung's mouth, and he placed a caring hand upon his son's head, stroking it gradually with his thumb.
"Why are you upset, Eldanén? Do you miss her?"
Eldanén, still staring blankly at the ground, pulled in his lips and swiftly shrugged one shoulder. Shaking his head lightly as a response, he looked up at Mablung. Once his eyes came upon his father's face he gave a cute, charming grin, in attempt to deceive the emotion of his heart.
"On the night of the Festival, she said that she would teach me how to talk to the trees. I could be like you, father, and Idril!" he said, joy growing in his eyes at the mere thought of being alike to his own father. He was quiet for several seconds as his excited smile drew away from his face, and then continued, his previously thrilled expression swiftly becoming replaced by an unbearable downhearted mien.
"It has been over half a week now. She said that she would do it the day after the Festival."
Mablung tipped his head to the side; intent on hearing what Eldanén had to say. He moved his hand from Eldanén's head to his small cheek, cupping his hand around Eldanén's jawbone.
"Tell me, Eldanén, why she did not teach you that day. Was she busy, perhaps? Your poor sister has had a fair bit occurring lately, it may be that she has not found time."
Eldanén responded with a small, sad smile and a nod of the head, dragging his eyes away from Mablung's, returning their gaze to the ground.
"On the day that she was supposed to teach me, Idril met her," he said quietly, almost inaudibly. Mablung's face crept into a perplexing vacancy, and he blinked a few times, his mind straining to conceive what exactly it was that Eldanén was trying to tell him.
"Who did Idril meet, Eldanén?"
He rose his head up slowly to see Mablung, a young fire blazing within his eyes, charring their colour to a dark, smoky grey-blue.
"Ibby."
Hatred and disgust purely dripped away from his voice, as heavy raindrops dragging themselves off a rose in bloom. Mablung's mouth opened slightly in shock, and he drew his head away from Eldanén now that the answer had reached his ears.
He knew not what to say to this.
Silently, Eldanén rose from his situation on the tree root and walked away from Mablung and the willow, casting him neither a farewell wave nor glance. Mablung carefully watched him go, until his small body could no longer be seen through the thickets or the trees. Sighing quietly, he faced the stream once more, and leant against the willow. The poor child, he loved Idril so dearly. He would have to talk with her about this sometime. Right now, he had a more important matter to attend to.
He closed his eyes, inhaling the sweet scent of the elderly forest around him, pleasantly mingled with the crispness of river water.
'Pen-vain a lend. Nin a lalaith. Meleth, avofaro an han; as telitha allen. Hebo tirith, a no i lass cuil lín ú-firitha.'
His body sank into the warm life of the willow, as it slowly submerged him into its spirit.
"My heart is glad to see you," he whispered, so softly that he was not sure the willow itself could hear him. All around him fell silent as his Elven ears forbid all sound to reach them. It had been far too long since the souls of the willow and of the Elf were united.
A dim light could be seen glimmering through the tree branches ahead of them. The seemingly endless forest path was to end soon, and with it, Legolas and Idril's tryst. The sound of their comfortable chatting was heard; it was the only sound to grace the outskirts of the forest. Not many animals or birds dwelled in this part as the comings and goings of the business of the palace had eventually driven all but a few of the more quiescent species away.
As the two Elves slowly made their way through the forest together, the light grew brighter and the first signs of a grey-black rock face could be seen.
"You are certain that King Thranduil and his Queen will not mind my presence in their home?" asked Idril anxiously, twirling the yellow flower madly between her fingers. The grand palace of the King, Queen and Prince lay ahead, of which she had not seen for many a year. A commoner such as herself would most probably not be particularly welcome in the home of the Royals.
Legolas lightly lay his hand upon Idril's forearm to calm her nerves, causing her fingers rapid movements to cease.
"I assure you, they will not mind. At the least, they will be gladdened at the sight of their son in female company."
Idril saw his mouth moving and heard his words, but they did not register in her mind. All that she was thinking of was how to act around her King and Queen. Why was it that always – always – whether it be the company of Royals or of other common Elves, she completely lost the ability to speak? All common sense and thought would leave her mind immediately, leaving it in an uncomfortable blankness. Luckily, she had finally managed to overcome the shock of being with the Prince, as at least he was easy to talk with. The thought of having to meet his parents, however, did no favours to her current state of mind, which was struggling to remain stable.
The sudden sight of the large cave not 15 yards in front of her, with a grand, large door carved at its base and guarded by two Elves dressed in smart green uniforms, did not ease her apprehension. Had she been a little more sedate she would have appreciated its, unintentionally forgotten, impressiveness but she found that speech had failed her as she opened her mouth to release no words.
Legolas walked towards the cave door before slowing his step and glancing back at Idril. She was motionless, her arms dangling by her sides and the flower fighting to remain in her loose grasp, and her head tilted back slightly, attempting to take in all of the sight in front of her. A half-smile appeared on his face as he paced back to her and offered an outstretched arm. Her eyes shook themselves out of their trance, and she meekly placed her hand in his.
"Come. Let me show you how I live," he said, pulling her gently along with him as he advanced to the cave door. Her numb legs had no choice but to oblige.
As they reached the door, Legolas gave a quick nod to each of the two guards in turn. They said nothing, but bowed simultaneously as their Prince entered the cave.
They entered what seemed to Idril to be just a large, dark room, walled by rock: a natural part of the cave, and nothing close to what Idril thought of befitting a Prince, let alone King or Queen. Again, her thoughts were yanked out of her mind as Legolas, still carefully holding her hand, led her over to the rocky side on the right. He drew himself up to his full majestic height as he halted in front of it.
"Open," he commanded, his voice echoing only quietly throughout the cave room. Once the echoes had passed, there was silence. After a few brief moments, a short grinding sound was heard as the wall in front of them trembled. Slowly, part of the wall was hauled away from them, revealing itself as a door, and gradually exposing one of the great Halls of the King Thranduil's mighty palace.
Legolas turned his head to check on Idril, granting her a quick, comforting smile, then escorted her through the open door. Idril clumsily followed, dumbfounded, and she noticed that as her grip on Legolas' hand leisurely loosened, his fingers clutched hers all the more tightly. Once they were both fully inside the marble-walled room, Idril looked back over her shoulder to see two strong Elves pushing the door shut behind them. She then noticed the long, thick gold bar protruding from the middle of it, obviously attached to it in order for the Elves to pull open the heavy stone door.
It shut with a resounding thud.
At that moment, as if on cue, Lairë trotted over to Legolas from out of the servants' kitchen. She gave a deep curtsy in front of him, before shifting her body slightly and doing the same to Idril. Legolas caught a glimpse of Idril's face as this manner of respect was bestowed upon her by an elleth that Idril did not even know. Her eyebrows arched, and a corner of her mouth curled into an amused smile.
Lairë switched her attention back to him.
"Your Highness, can I be of any service?" she asked brightly.
"Actually, yes Lairë, you can. Where are the King Thranduil and Queen Irethel at this moment?" he asked in a low voice, diverting instantly from the friendly, cheerful Elf that he was when he and Idril were talking a while ago, to the serious and authoritative Prince that most individuals saw him to be.
Lairë stared past Legolas' watch for an instant, trying to remember.
"Ah," she said, settling her eyes upon her Prince once more. "They went to the garden. I believe that they do not wish to be interrupted and will not return for some time, my Lord."
Legolas' face visibly brightened at her declaration.
"Thank you, Lairë, and very much so. That is all, you can return to the kitchen," he said with a simply charming smile. Idril could have sworn she saw the girl's knees go weak after Legolas' words of gratitude.
As Lairë went back to the kitchen to resume her duties, Legolas turned to Idril, both his smile and the happiness in his eyes utterly sincere and unmovable.
"Let me show you a place I am sure that you will take delight in," he said, before tightening his grip on Idril's hand – not so much as to hurt her, but so that he had a secure hold – and striding quickly down the Hall.
"How long will it take to reach this place?" asked Idril, marvelling at the size and length of the room: doors, stairs and corridors littering its sides. She received no answer but for Legolas' quickened pace.
They finally ceased their step after walking down most of the Hall, confronting a long flight of stairs, and then facing another extensive Hall. Halfway through the second Hall were two magnificent doors, which Legolas and Idril were standing in front of at that instant. The two servants pushed them open for the Prince and his acquaintance, to disclose the vast Library hidden inside.
Idril instantly let go of Legolas' hand and walked into the room on her own accord. Legolas sauntered after, a pleased smile gracing his lips.
She tilted her head back as far as it would go to see the ceiling, which was at least four times her height. Bringing her head back down, she swivelled her body around, her eyes eagerly absorbing all that was surrounding her. It was, by far, the largest and most beautiful room of any dwelling she had seen in her life. Thousands upon thousands of books lay quietly here. The room simply screamed knowledge and wisdom. She felt nothing more than to suddenly grab one book, read it all and learn of whatever it desired to teach, and then move on to the next book or parchment, until she had seen and experienced every piece of paper in every book, on every shelf, in every corner of the room.
"Oh…" she breathed. It was the only thing she could say, the only thing that was willing to leave her mouth and do this room's beauty absolute justice.
"I presume you like it then," said Legolas, sidling up to her. Idril just looked at him with her mouth still lazily hanging open, allowing her reaction to answer his statement. Her eyes darted back to the room around her, taking in all that was there, before closing her mouth in a smile. She shyly rose her eyes up to meet Legolas' face.
"It is one of the most beautiful things that I have ever seen," she whispered, her voice so hushed and so low, she found it a wonder that Legolas heard her as he replied with a nod. His eyes found Idril's, but they then found it extremely hard to leave her warm gaze.
He lowered his head and watched as his two hands found their way into Idril's own. He slowly brought both pairs of hands towards his body, drawing Idril closer to him until she stood but a few mere inches away from him. He released his right hand from its gentle seize on Idril's fingers, bringing it upwards towards her face, his curved index finger only barely touching her cheek. He then brought it down from its place on her cheek to outline her jaw tenderly, finally leaving it to rest underneath her chin. He tilted her head upwards slightly, and he watched as Idril's eyes were immersed when her eyelids were slowly shut over her beautiful browns. His eyelids then began to fall together also, and he did not acknowledge it when his head cautiously began to dip, moving ever closer to Idril's lips.
They were close now. So close, that he could smell her sweet scent as it filled the air around him, making him forget all thoughts of where he was and what he was doing. The only thing he knew of was Idril's presence, bare millimetres away from him, awaiting the arrival of his lips' soft touch.
"Your Highness," announced a voice. Legolas' mind instantly drew out of the blind faze, as he quickly jerked his head away from Idril's, and took one swift step away from her. Idril did the same, turning her body as the two Elves rapidly separated from each other. Legolas coughed nervously, furrowing his brow as he turned to face the pretty, young Elf standing motionless at the doorway.
"Your Highness, begging your pardon, but your parents have returned," said Lairë, the usual youthful joy in her face now unapparent. Legolas gave a meaningless smile and raised his eyebrows, nodding in appreciation, yet deliberately restraining his eyes from looking at both Lairë and Idril.
Lairë stared at both of the uncomfortable Elves in turn, waiting for her Prince to dismiss her. Legolas just stood there in silence, blinking on occasion. Eventually, he rose his eyes up unsurely to see Idril, who had her arms crossed and was busy studying the patterns on the Library floor.
She could feel his eyes on her.
"I should probably go," she said quietly, motioning to the door with an index finger, yet avoiding Legolas' eyes completely. Legolas subconsciously licked his lower lip and regained his full composure.
"Yes, yes. Um… Lairë, show her the way to the front of the palace. Thank you."
Lairë turned to go out of the door, and Idril began to follow. Legolas however, always the gentleman, thought that a short farewell would be appropriate.
"Idril…"
Idril stopped walking and hesitantly looked over at Legolas, suppressing a shudder when she met his eyes. He bowed to her, not permitting his eyes to leave their firm gaze upon her.
"It was lovely. Today was lovely, I mean. I, uh, I hope to see you again soon," he said whilst rising. He did not mean to sound insincere, for he meant his last comment, but the awkwardness between them remained and it was a challenge for him to control his words. Idril responded to this with a light curtsy, and a warm smile, which intensely comforted him. He managed to place upon his lips a small smile, as Idril silently followed Lairë through the great doors of the Library.
He sat down wearily on a soft chair, raking his shaking fingers through his hair gently.
'What did I just say?' he asked himself. He was a Prince! Why did he just crumble to a nervous ruin when he did not even kiss her? He inhaled as deeply as he could and released his breath casually. Slowly, and unintentionally, the corners of his lips rolled into a smile, only getting wider and wider the more he thought about what had just occurred. He allowed a short laugh to escape his lips, as it was impossible to keep behind a shut mouth.
"That was not good."
A/N: Everything will be explained soon… the most part of it in the next chapter. That's convenience for you.
As always, thank you to my darling reviewers. :)
-Laura.
