Title: Until We Reach Valinor

Chapter 10: Precious Moments

NOTE: This story is sequel to "A Teacher's Duty" and you'll have to read that one first to understand this one. Also, this story does not contain slash, and it is not a romance, despite what the first chapter might suggest.

SPECIAL THANKS: to Orlando's Sweetheart for helping me pick the name of the woman, and the title to this story. Help is much appreciated, thanks a lot.

That said, I'll let you read in peace.

…

Ananya looked tall and graceful as she came to a stop before the King. The terror on her face had been replaced by determination. Legolas relaxed slightly. If she didn't allow herself to be cowed by the situation, Ananya would do very well indeed, as she was one the most skilled in his class. She bowed low before Thranduil and Legolas, who also inclined their heads slightly in acknowledgement.

There was a tense silence. Then, "Suppose we start with the fifty-yard targets, young one."

Legolas winced at the patronizing tone in his father's calling the seventeen-year old "young one." He could sense a spot of indignation from the teenager as well, but luckily his father did not sense it, not knowing he had said anything to cause offence of any kind.

Wordlessly, though slightly stiffly, Ananya picked up the bow which suited her height and strength best, notched her arrow, took aim, and fired.

Legolas breathed a sigh of relief. The arrow had lodged itself on the outer rim of the bull's eye. His father looked suitably impressed, and gave Legolas a glance which told him so quite plainly. But when he spoke it was only to tell Ananya what to do next. Legolas nearly winced again; a little praise would not have been unwelcome. However, Thranduil did not often give praise unless he was truly impressed, so his lack of compliments was not surprising.

When Legolas had watched Ananya hit every target with reasonable accuracy, hold her own while sparring with the King, and answer all his questions about battle pans and strategies correctly, he dared to let a smile tug at his lips. At the end of the seven-minute test, when Ananya made a score of ninety-two percent, he thought Ananya had done him very proud.

At the end of the day, when all seventy-two of his students had passed, and almost all of these had passed with distinction, with Celin topping everyone with a whopping ninety-eight percent, he realized that what he'd felt after Ananya's performance was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. In all his long years, he had never been more proud.

…

Legolas shook hands with each of the parents as they made their way into the banquet hall. Some of them gave him just a brief word and a thank you before heading for dinner, while others stopped and talked to him for minutes together.

His encounter with Celin's parents was one of the most memorable of the evening. Celin's mother, a graceful She-Elf called Aaliyah, grasped his hand in hers and thanked him; it seemed, from the bottom of her heart.

"We've heard so much about you, my Lord," She said, dabbing at her eyes, which had been overflowing with joy ever since Celin's results had been announced, "Our son is continually singing your praises, which today I saw are very well-deserved."

Before Legolas could think of an appropriate response to this, Celin's father, Tathar, cut in, "And we would like to thank you, my Lord," he told him earnestly, "For not giving up on Celin when you found out about his ankle."

"I could hardly have given up on someone as talented as Celin," Legolas said.

"I know many who would have, My Lord. But…" the man hesitated, and Legolas nodded encouragingly, "You are really serious about making him a teacher at your school? You are not just…saying that? To humor him?"

"You needn't fear that at all. Of course I'm serious about training Celin to be a teacher," Legolas responded warmly, wanting to put them at their ease, "I would not just string him along if all I eventually had planned for him was to return home after he did his second-year graduation."

"Thank you, my Lord!" Aaliyah said eagerly, "You don't know how much this means to us. We have long feared that his ankle would prevent him from doing any real work!"

"He could have still become a healer or something in that line of work," Legolas pointed out, noting with distaste the emphasis she had laid on the word 'real.'"

"Oh, my Lord, you jest!" Tathar laughed slightly, "That is a woman's profession! My son could hardly take up my wife's work. Become a healer, indeed."

Legolas bit back the urge to argue. This is what you are going to change when you become King, he reminded himself. There's no point in arguing now; they mean well.

He made a non-committal noise in his throat, and, soon after, to his relief, they had moved on for dinner and he was greeting Elgalad's parents. His mind wandered as he engaged in exchanging pleasantries with the parents, something he was growing increasingly more tired of. The conversation with Celin's parents had worried him. Clearly, Aaliyah and Tathar were sensible, loving parents who took pride in their son's achievements. But their attitudes were a little troubling. He wondered what would have become of Celin if he had not offered to train him to be a teacher. Now, he realized that at least part of the boy's motivation to excel came from the unconscious pressure his parents exerted on him.

They must have been so disappointed when they learned about his ankle, he mused, It was irresponsible of them to send him to me last year, hoping they could deceive me because that ankle of his only plays up once every few months. When I found out, they must have been so disappointed, and when I offered to teach him later; so pleased.

They must have warned him, too, not to throw away his one chance at success, he realized. And yet the boy had questioned his teacher about whether the profession of teaching was a right choice for him. His admiration for Celin seemed to increase after every passing day. He was much more progressive in thought than his parents, in spite of having been brought up by them. After all, his best friend happened to be a male healer- exactly the kind of person Aaliyah and Tathar would disapprove of.

Legolas's thoughts were interrupted when he felt a hand press his shoulder gently. Hoping it was not another parent, he turned to find Elano's eyes which were alight with joy and pride. Elano took almost as much pleasure in the children's success as Legolas. Because his position in the school required playing both the dual roles of friend and disciplinarian when occasion required it, he was the one person who knew the class as well, if not better, than Legolas.

"Congratulations, sir," Elano said, smiling warmly.

"Don't congratulate me; congratulate the students, and yourself. I couldn't have done it without either of you," Legolas said, returning the smile.

"Sir," Elano said, flushing slightly, "It is you and the children who deserve to be congratulated tonight. Not me. Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not," Legolas retorted, but refrained from singing Elano's praises further because he knew that would only make the Elf uncomfortable. He had never known anyone more averse to receiving compliments in his life.

They stood silently for a moment, each in their own thoughts. It had been a long day, and there was a lot to rejoice about and celebrate. Then Elano said, "Have you prepared your speech yet, sir?"

Legolas shook his head, some of the celebration leaving his eyes as his forehead creased into a frown, "No. I tried and tried, but I can't seem to find the words. I suppose I'll just…do it extempore."

Elano smiled again, the same way he had in the morning, and shook his head, looking half-incredulous, half-amused.

"What?" Legolas asked, noting the expression again.

"Nothing," Elano said, a slight twinkle in his eye.

"What do you mean, noth-?" Legolas began, but to his dismay, was interrupted.

"My Lord!"

Barely managing to stifle his groan, Legolas turned slowly and wearily to face yet another lot of overjoyed parents, wondering, as he did so, when he would learn to enjoy socializing.

…

The banquet hall was the largest room in the entire school. For this occasion, it was equipped with two long tables, one seating all the parents, and another, smaller one, seating the students; Legolas; Elano and; of course, the King.

It was the first meal Legolas had ever had with his father where he, and not Thranduil, was sitting at the head of the table. The Elven Prince was not feeling at all comfortable with this arrangement, but his father had insisted.

"You're the most honored person, on this occasion," he had told him firmly, "It was your efforts as a teacher, your school, and students which made this event a success. As you are the one who deserves the most credit for their success, you'll sit at the head of the table tonight."

"But father, you're the King!" Legolas had protested, "It will not be well received if I take your rightful place at the table's head."

"No. Not this time. I think everyone here, parents and students alike, respects and admire you too much to bother with such propriety. In fact, I'm sure they'd be more pleased with me if you and not I took the place at the table's head."

Legolas could hardly argue with the truth of this statement, so he sat down awkwardly, feeling as though everyone in the room had their eyes on him. It wasn't a very pleasant feeling, and since it was the first time he was experiencing it, he was feeling doubly uncomfortable.

To his left, Thranduil leaned across the table and whispered, "Are you making the toast now?"

Legolas swallowed down his nervousness, "Yes," he said.

Thranduil, with all the ease of someone practiced at giving speeches, took his silver spoon and touched it to the his wine glass lightly. The silvery sound was loud as a bell to all the Elvish ears in the room, who at once fell silent and looked at the King expectantly. Thranduil rose, and addressed a few words of congratulation to the students, and then sat down. Polite applause rang around the room.

Then it was Legolas's turn. He rose, and wondered why he was feeling so nervous. It was a completely alien emotion to him, and he felt as though he had lost all his self-control.

Trying to keep his hands from shaking, he tried to speak. The words caught in his throat. He cleared his throat softly, but to his ears, it sounded like the loudest sound in the world.

He took a deep breath. And froze. For the first time in his life, he was completely at a loss for words. Say something. Say anything, he told himself, feeling panicky. I should have planned this before hand, he berated himself, as the silence seemed to stretch on endlessly. But what was he supposed to say? He wondered. How was he supposed to put in words what they meant to him? Wait, there was a start. How was he supposed to put in words what they meant to him. He prayed everything would come easily after that. Unfortunately, it did not.

"I don't know…" he faltered slightly, and then ploughed on bravely, "I don't know how to put in words what you mean to me." He paused. "I…" To his absolute horror, he felt emotion constricting his throat.

"Our time together has been…the best…" he tried to speak further, but found himself unable to, quite overcome by all his conflicting emotions. There was pride in their accomplishments, joy in their happiness, gratitude that he had come to know them as well as he had, and sorrow at the thought of parting with so many of them.

"Thank you," he said at last, unable to think of anything else, "Thank you…so much." He raised his glass with a shaking hand and drank to them, his Class of 3026-3027.

There was a long silence. Legolas became aware that no one had moved a muscle; they had not even raised their glasses. Everyone was too stunned; or too moved. Or shocked into speechlessness that I, heir of Greenwood, cannot string to coherent words together and make a short, simple speech. Legolas felt their eyes burning into his face, and he wished fervently that he could sink through the floor instead of standing there so awkwardly with flaming cheeks and trembling hands.

Then at long last, a small sound broke the unbearable silence. It was a single clap. Another clap followed it, then another. Then, a smattering of clapping. And then, the next thing Legolas knew, the whole room was ringing with the most thunderous applause he had ever heard. He sank down on his chair, not daring to look up until he had wrestled his emotions into a state of (relative) submission. When he did, he saw that most of his class was in tears. Even the boys were letting them fall; openly, unashamedly.

He felt a wave of relief crash over his head. They had understood what he had been unable to tell them in words. And they did not think him any less for not being able to say it. And he should not have expected them to, he realized. There was no shame in his incoherence, or his emotions. He knew it, and they knew it, and even if no one else understood, it was enough.

For the first time in his life, he did not feel ashamed to show emotion. The tears stood in his eyes unashamedly, and he did not blink them back. Instead he raised his glass once more (did they not deserve two toasts?) and drank deeply. This time, they joined him.

And when he finally sat down a few seconds after that, he felt Elano squeeze his shoulder gently. He turned to the Elf on his left, and saw his eyes lit with understanding.

"You knew that was going to happen, didn't you?" Legolas asked softly, with a sudden flash of understanding.

"Yes."

"That's why you were asking me questions about the speech and smiling at like that."

"Yes."

"I didn't realize it myself. I've given speeches before, even a few extempore ones. I never thought that this one would be hard for me."

"I know."

"And you didn't say anything because…?"

"Because," Elano said, looking him straight in the eye, "I didn't want to ruin one of the most special moments in your life by taking away the spontaneity from it."

Legolas paused. Elano was right. It had been very special. More so, because his emotions had caught him by surprise.

"Thank you," he said suddenly, glad that Elano had not warned him. The moment had been...very precious, and he knew it would have been spoilt if he had prepared it from the start.

Elano didn't have to ask what he was being thanked for, nor did he say he was welcome. Knowing more words would only make Legolas feel awkward, he squeezed the teacher's shoulder gently, smiled again in understanding, and returned to his meal.

…

TBC…

I thoroughly enjoyed writing this chapter. While some of you might think (as I did at first) that it would be out-of-character for Legolas to become so emotional, especially when Linnor, Celin and Elano are all going to be there for the next year, I realized that while I only talk about Linnor and Celin in my stories, Legolas still loves the rest of them just as much, or almost as much. I write more about Linnor and Celin because they're the ones who have the most serious problems, but if this was a real school, that would not mean that Legolas did not share an equally loving relationship with the rest of him.

Also, the emotions at the farewell dinner were very similar to my own farewell last year, where students and teachers alike got REALLY emotional. I thought I would too, since I was going to leave that year, but fortunately I was so busy trying to make sure my saree wouldn't fall off (it was the first, and will be the last time I wore one) that I didn't really have time to cry much. LOL. But I know that people do get emotional during graduations and farewell dinners, so I tried to capture that in this chapter.

Thanks to my anonymous reviewers whom I could not reply to. Love you guys, and I'm glad to hear from Isilwen again. Pleased to find there's a teacher in our midst as well. Hope she isn't one of mine (you never know- it's a small world)! Anyway, it's nearing 12:30 and I have to rise with the sun tomorrow for college. Please review!