Ilmare was awoken rather abruptly the next morning. She had been sleeping deeply when the door slammed open loudly.
Ilmare jumped, blinking her eyes many times to help clear them from sleep. Her hair was sticking up everywhere on the side where she had her head rested against her pillow.
"Ilmare," Legolas moaned, rubbing a hand down his face. He rested his weight heavily on the doorframe. He was still in his robes, which were crumpled and wrinkled, even more than the night before.
A million thoughts raced through Ilmare's head. Did he remember what he did last night? Was he here to apologize? Did he regret or, or did he perhaps feel like it was right?
"Ilmare," he sighed again, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Do you have anything for this headache?"
Ilmare blanched for a second, what he said being nothing like what she expected. It took her a moment to gather her bearings. She scrambled off the bed, digging through a small satchel which she kept simple healing mixtures. "I do believe so."
Legolas trudged into the room and plopped on the bed, resting his head in his hands. "I will admit, I do not recall much of what happened late last night." He looked at Ilmare out of the corner of his eye. "Did I do anything embarrassing?"
Ilmare froze, clutching the small bottle of pain reliever in her hand, her knuckles white. Did she tell him, or let it stay in the dark?
She stood, putting a small smile on her lips. "Other than drunkenly collapsing on me after losing a drinking game?"
Legolas laughed softly, but then winced. "In front of many people?"
Ilmare took out the stopper and handed the small bottle to the prince. "A few."
Legolas tipped the drink back, downing the dark liquid in one swallow. His nose wrinkled slightly at the sour taste. "Is it not usually sweeter?"
Ilmare laughed. "There is no honey in this serving." She nudged his shoulder with her own playfully. "If you are going to be a warrior, you must learn to deal with the bitterness of life."
Legolas' eyes widened at this statement. He sat up abruptly, but slowed as he found the room spinning. "The tattoo ceremony!" he realized. "I cannot be late!"
Once an elf of Greenwood comes of age, they receive a tattoo that represents their status or achievements. For example, the tattoo of a warrior goes in between their shoulder blades. For each battle they are a part of, they receive a tally underneath it. For a healer, it is a twisting vine going up the back of their neck.
"I would suggest changing," Ilmare offered, eyeing the wrinkled robes in disdain. "They still smell of wine."
Legolas raised a brow. "You look no better."
Ilmare looked down at herself, seeing that she too had slept in her nice dress. She sighed, meeting the eyes of the prince yet again. "I would suggest that you stop judging my clothing and go fix your own. I will not be getting my tattoos today."
Legolas gave a curt nod. "Right," and swiftly left the room, leaving Ilmare alone.
She dragged her hands down her face, sighing loudly in the quiet room. Her feelings were muddled and confused. Ilmare was torn between wishing that he had remembered what happened, and that perhaps his feelings matched hers. There was also a possibility that, if he did remember, his feelings would not mirror her own and their relationship would never be the same.
It is best, Ilmare decided, casting a glance around her messy room. That things played out the way they did.
…
A tattoo ceremony was much smaller and more private than the coming of age ceremony. There were only a few elves present during the time.
Legolas was thankful for Ilmare's pain reliever as he stood next to his parents. Without it, this entire ceremony would have been torture.
They stood in a small room that was purposed for this occasion. Legolas felt a stirring in his chest as he thought about his parents who had stood here many years before hand, waiting to get their own tattoos.
Thranduil had trained as a warrior when he was but a young prince as Legolas is now, and so did his father, Oropher. Melian, however, was a diplomat. That is how they met in the first place. She was always reporting, hanging about the royal court and working in the affairs of the kingdom beside Thranduil. Eventually, love bloomed between the two.
With his father to his right and the captain of the guard, Tamarthon to his left, Legolas felt less nervous with people who he had known for his entire life. Still, he wished Ilmare was there as well.
"Legolas," said an elf that stood in front of him by the name of Thaurtur. He was ancient, as old as the tattoo ceremony himself. He was the only one who gave the body art, for a reason Legolas didn't quite know why. It is just as it has always been.
"Yes, my lord?" Legolas responded.
"Do you believe you are ready to become part of the Greenwood guard?"
Legolas let out a deep breath before responding. "Yes."
Thaurtur turned to Tamarthon. "Do you believe prince Legolas is prepared to take up this position?"
The captain nodded surely. "Yes," and in his heart, he did. Legolas already could out shoot most of the elves already a part of the guard and was pretty good at his twins swords as well. Tamarthon knew he would take his position seriously.
"And you king Thranduil?"
He gave a slow nod, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Yes."
Thaurtur nodded towards Legolas. The prince knew what he had to do. He turned his back to the old elf and knelt down on the ground. He had to take off his tunic so that Thaurtur could begin inking his skin. Legolas wouldn't lie, he felt a bit awkward being so exposed, but he knew it was what must be done.
Thaurtur took a bottle of ink into his hands and a small needle. His skilled hands began to create the familiar pattern on the prince's skin.
The needle stung as it dipped into his skin, but Legolas was stubborn and refused to show how it affected him. He was sure he would later suffer wounds much worse when fighting.
Legolas braved through the stinging needle, the entire process lasted for very little longer. Soon, Legolas was aware or a bandage being placed over the fresh tattoo.
"The skin is raw and red," Thaurtur told Legolas as he smoothed the cloth over ink. "Leave this over it for a few days and it will heal just fine."
Legolas nodded in appreciation, slowly putting his tunic back on as to not disturb the ink. It was a bit sore, but he would soon get over it.
Melian came and put a gentle hand on her sons face. "I am so proud of you," she said, her eyes watering.
"Thank you, naneth," Legolas murmured.
Thranduil strode up to his son, smiling genuinely. The gripped each other's forearms tightly, Legolas grinning up at his father with pride. He felt he had up held the family pride.
As they left the small room, Legolas looked over his kingdom for the first time as a prince and warrior, all the thoughts of what he would now have to do came rushing to him, completely driving out the thought of the woman in the forest who had claimed to be Ilmare's mother and the search party he had said to send out.
It never happened.
Authors note:
A really short filler chapter just to cover some things before moving on to the next year skip.
Just to let it be known, the tattoo thing is something I made up because I thought how the Greenwood elves are so bad ass they deserve something like a cool tattoo as well .
I would really appriciate it if someone would take the time to review. I havent gotten one for about three chapters. I wanna know what you guys think!