At daybreak a weary and weak Raelyn readied herself for departure. Elven guards came to collect her from her quarters to bring her to her guardians.
When she arrived at the main gates Thranduil was ready to farewell her.
"My Lady Raelyn, guards from Gondor have organised to bring you straight to Minas Tirith so that you might have more time to… Well, apparently Harrin has brought the ceremony forward so that it might fall on your very birthday."
"Very well…" Raelyn said looking utterly depressed as she stared off into the forest. "He probably fears I will run off again…." She muttered, trailing off.
Noticing how bleak she looked Thranduil said "I offer you the service of my own guards to accompany you if that would make you more comfortable."
"No, no." Raelyn added with attempted brightness. "Your Highness is too kind."
"I am – sorry that my Son is not here to…" Thranduil started to say when a dishevelled and tired looking Legolas appeared.
"Farewell Raelyn…" Legolas managed.
Facing Thranduil Raelyn said "Thank you for your kind hospitality Your Majesty," and turning to Legolas without a trace of eye contact "Goodbye - Your Highness."
Legolas was guttered and immediately had to leave if he wanted to maintain any ounce of composure. King Thranduil turned, leaving Raelyn to her guards, but he could not help but notice how changed the exchanges were. Wanting to investigate Thranduil made his way to Legolas's quarters but there was no sign of his son. Thranduil looked about the room noticing the blankets strewn across the floor, drawers pulled out of furniture and smashed vase in the corner.
Legolas was in the one place where he might find a grain of solace – his Father's library. He began pouring over the old elvish prophecy with tears streaming down his face. Family…family he thought. From Legolas's impression the translation did not do justice to the original copy … family he thought again. It did mean family, but not in the sense that immediately comes to mind. Legolas could not help but think other words suited it far more; like group…kind…species… or race.
All of a sudden Legolas realised the long held mistake. Raelyn was not destined for a fellow man, but instead she was intended as another legendary union between the races. Just like the marriages of Beren and Lúthien, Aragorn and Arwen – Raelyn was destined to marry an elf.
Legolas nearly choked on the air in his very own lungs. No wonder he had felt so strongly about her – a way he had never felt about anyone else ever before. They were destined for each other and in a twist of fate she was brought right to him but he had pushed her away.
Legolas's mind raced: What if she will not take me now? What if she never forgives my recklessness? So soon she will be married – what if she has forsaken me for Harrin after all? … I must try… but I must be sure that I am what she wants – I could not bear to hurt her again.
Composing himself again, Legolas was determined to discover the truth. He saddled his horse, grabbed his bow and rode, at haste, out of the main gates - straight for Minas Tirith.
"Quel fara…" (Good hunting…) the gate guard called, wishing Legolas well.
"I do not think… that is where he goes… at such haste…" the other guard replied with an uncertain look on his face.