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Silver droplets panged against the clear glass. All was once again silent after the night before's excitement. Dark, gray clouds hung over the white city; few of it's people roamed the streets in such bad weather. Yet, that did not stop her husband. Ellen of the Rose stared into the warming fire before her. The mind of the young woman was ablaze with thoughts. Some were good, some were bad; many were concentrated upon the Mirkwood elf, and his departure. A sigh came from the young woman as she sat in the large chair; a large quilt of many colors was draped over he legs, in her hands she held a cup of tea. It's steam rose gracefuly from the cup and danced around in the air before disappearing. With another sniff of the tea, she took a sip.
It was now six hours past dawn, the mother had awoken nearly two ago. The room was quiet, for her husband had left to get his might steed ready. Moonright would not like waking so early, not after so many days of luxuary. A soft smile finally appeared upon Ellen's face. The soft thought swept away the problems that controled her thoughts, if only for a moment.
Baby Adelina stirred in her crib, and then was silent again. Wood popped and cracked underneath the flames, the rain provided an ever constant rythem, and the ocassional footsteps of the maids were all to be heard. Yet to the young woman, her thoughts sounded more like shouts in her mind.
The news of her husband's short quest had at first seemed to be be great tidings. It brought hope for her heart; there was a chance that the elf would live, and be ridded of the dangerous disease in his veins. Ellen had took the news with great excitement and joy. Of course, this was all at first. Now that time had passed, she had thought much of it. Now, it was ever turning and twisting in her mind; like fish before it finally took it's last breath.
More and more, the thought worried Ellen of the Rose. 'Little is known about this "Dracovia, Lord of the North." I mean, why does he not except King Elessar's peace offers. Does this Lord of the North want war?! Then again, he has not declined them either. It seems, the lord is a nuetral creature. Not wanting to be allies, nor foes. Perhaps, just a maybe, he does have a cure for Legolas.' Again, Adelina stirred in her bed and interrupted her mother's thoughts. Ellen smiled softly and rose from her seat. With a gentle touch, she wrapped the child back up in her blankets and plucked the baby from her crib. The woman moved with such grace, that she could have easily been mistaken for an elf; Ellen gentley rocked Adelina of the Waterlilies in her arms. The child gurgled with approvement and fell back to sleep.
Still holding her smile, Ellen moved back to the chair and stared down at her child. The thought of having Adelina never know her father was in her mind as well. As more reasons rose to keep the elf behind, more reasons came forth to allow the prince to go. The young woman fought for each side in her head, until it became too much and she turned her attention to something else. The flames, they looked so soft and delicate. The young woman swored you could almost reach out and stroke one. The rain, it still fell from the clouds and bounced from the white marble of Minas Tirith. 'The child, her father, the journey, the cure, THE DARK LORD, DEATH- LIFE!'
Again, her mind hurt from the thoughts. With a sigh of despair, Ellen placed a hand on her head and sat there with the child. There she remained for a very long time. The battle within her thoughts never once ceased. Each side bringing up a new point as if the thoughts were two advisors. Ellen of the Rose was the leader and she listened carefully. Yet, the more she listened, the more confused the woman became.
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"Whoa!" the young stable boy stumbled and fell backwards onto his bottom. He used his hands to scoot away as a thundering hoof came crashing to the ground. The black stallion before him showed no signs of calming down, and continued to rear up and make such a fuss, one would think it were great pain. Several times the small boy had cursed the steed and thought about getting the whip. Then he would think of whom the owner of the animal was, and just storm to next stable and curse all the living things that came into his mind. It wasn't until midday, that he was relieved of the horse.
A young man stood in the main door of the stables; water dripped from every inch of his body. The rains had gotten rather nasty, and thunder could be heard off in the distance. The man had short brown hair, and deep brown eyes to go with it. His body was taller than most; when he walked, it was a graceful stride. It wasn't until the man had stood nearly two yards in front of him, did the stable boy realize just what the man was. "An Elf!" he whispered to himself.
"Hullo!" a soft smile was placed on the elf's face, his brown eyes brimmed with excitement. "I am Daranth; you may know me as 'Dadren's assistant.' Well, I'm sure word reaches you quickly. I am here for Prince Legolas' horse, Moonright." The young elf moved closer to the upset boy. The stable child wiped his dirty hands on his pants and held out one of them, dirt smudges still were encrusted inbetween his fingers.
With a smile, the stable boy said, "It's-it's nice to meet you Mr. Daranth. I'm known as Joeseph, son of Haminal. They call me Joe!" Daranth smiled, sort of, and shook the boy's hand. Joe's palms were a bit sweaty, and the elf wiped away the filth on his own cloak. Finally, the young elf took a good long look at the boy before him. The stable boy's hair was dark brown, and tangled; his eyes were a deep brown, much like Daranth's; and his face showed a young one, not more than twelve. His cheek bones were high, and his eyes shoned bright. Two large ears stood at the side of his head, and he was too skinny for the elf's liking. Only a pair of green trouser's hung loosely from his shoulders. Yet, Joe worked all day most likely. The sweaty forehead and dirty hair showed that.
Joe felt the elf's eyes upon him; he blushed and turned his head away. With a soft voice, he asked, "Shall I get the horses?" That seemed to stop the scanning and snap Daranth back into reality. "Oh! Yes, yes. Will this do?" the young elf procceeded to reach into his front pocket and pull out a small purple cloth with golden thread tied in the rim. Daranth then opened the top just a bit, and allowed two silver coins to slide out. He held the coins in his long slender hands and offered them to Joe. "Is this enough for the horse?"
"Enough!" the boy exclaimed, placing a hand on his forehead, "Well I reckon it's enough to pay for the whole lot in here!" A soft chuckle came from the elf, and Joe blushed again. He usually forgot his manners and would burst out his emotions. It was rather rude, according to his father, and he regreted doing it in front of such a noble and fair being. Yet, the young elf didn't seem to mind and began to speak.
"Well, I guess I should receive my own, Lady Ellen's, and Holan's as well. Do you know of the chestnut I rode in on? Her name is Melody. Can you please receive her for me as well; don't forget the appoloossa known as Honeynut. I know, rather silly names, yet they seem to fit the good tempers of the beautiful beasts." With that, Joe was off running down the stalls and looking at each horse. He would speak the names softly to the horses and if they did not respond, Joe moved on. Daranth watched with amused eyes. A soft smile came on his face.
Finally, the two were found, and brought forth. Daranth took hold of each halter; as he did this, Joe tied a rope onto each and gave it to the elf. "Thank-you. Now can you bring me Moonright?"
"That wild thing!" This time, Joe did not regret his outburst. The stable boy did not dare get near that creature again. Moonright was too wild for his liking. "I don't think so. Maybe you can, or someone else; but he nearly kicked my head off when I tried to feed him. Honestly, you'd think an elven horse would be well tempered."
Again, Daranth laughed at the boy. "Apparently you do not know much of elven bred horses," Joe felt emabaressed once again. "They often have tempers and will allow only one rider. Unfortunately, Prince Legolas inheireted his father's temper, and Moonright show's just that. If you do not wish to go near the stallion again, I shall call for the Mirkwood prince himself!" Without another thought, the young elf turned around and walked out of the stables and into the rain. He had to get the horses ready for the long trip. Yet, before he turned around, he had shoved the coins into Joe's hands.
The stable boy had no time to say 'Thank-you,' nor did he find himself capable. One thought remained in his mind from the words spoken by the elf. 'The Mirkwood prince himself!' "A real elven prince." Joe stood there and stared out at Daranth as he rounded a corner and was lost from his eyes. His heart suddenly began to race. Then sweat dripped from his brow and he knew he stunk of it. "I must clean up! An elf prince is coming!" the young boy leapt for joy and ran to a table in the stables. There he looked into a dish and frowned. Immediately, he began to sweep the floors and clean what he could. After that, Joe ran to the tub and jumped in. He didn't care for the cold water, nor did he care that he was still wearing his trousers.
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It had been a long day. At first the hours had moved by like minutes. After all, time does not pass slow when one is working or planning. Already the two of them had filled four saddle bags with supplies, eaten breakfast, ordered more medical herbs (mostly to keep Legolas from passing out), and found time to pack several pairs of clothes. Only eight hours had passed since the sun rose, and now time seemed to stop all together. The pair had been working for nearly four hours; gathering supplies was not as easy as one might have thought.
With a gruff sigh, the dwarf finally fell to a chair. The man laughed and sat down himself. Aragorn and Gimli smiled at each other and turned to the bags on the floor. Each tan package was as packed as a fat man's stomach at a feast. The very thought of this sent them into hysteria again. It wasn't until Aragorn pulled forth the list, did the hardy laughter stop. With a groan, the dwarf realized what he had to do, and got up from his seat. His short legs carried him to the packs were he lifted the flap and called over to the king.
"Bandages, soap, medical tools wrapped in linen, herbs of various types, bottles of medicine (Legolas' medicine!) and... what is on that list?"
"You didn't mention... forget it, I'll check the packs myself." Aragorn stood from his seat and walked to the packs. He made his way to the one that Gimli stood at and took a look inside. The dwarf stood there and listened as the king mumbled the long list to himself. 'Various types of herbs' would not work for the man, and Gimli knew this. He just didn't want to have to check all the bags. After Aragorn was satisfied with the medical bag, he moved on to the next one.
Each were silent and listened to the rain. Gimli watched as the man scooted from one pack to the next. After fifthteen minutes, he was finally done. With a sigh of relief, Aragorn placed his hands on his folded knees and exclaimed, "Well, that's all of it. Let's take a rest." It was then that Holan bursted through the door. His face was tired and worried, beads of sweat falling from his brow. With deep breathes, the man managed to get out, "Where's... the... elf?"
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'A cure,' this meant a future to the elf. If the new lord of Mordor was speaking the truth, then he could live with his family forever. Well, at least for as long as their bodies permitted it. Yet, there was some comfort in knowing that one's death was near. At least he knew he was going to die; living for an eternity was frightening; your friends always died before you. Some mortals would gladly give away their lives to live forever. Legolas wanted to be mortal. It was always a secret kept from others; he did not think they would aprove. The Mirkwood prince hated the thought of losing his friends to death. 'Why do I always befriend the ones whom will die before me?'
All most every night he thought of how he would grieve for each one, and how they might have died. Usually, Legolas thought of all the memories that he would have by that time. Now they would not come at all. "Not as long as this acursed illness is still in my blood." the elf hissed to himself. He hated being ill, more than he hated knowing he would have to live through his friend's deaths. Those the Mirkwood elf might be able to handle, for he would have many memories. Now, the cure seemed as a gateway from pain. Living forever meant he would be able to see his child grow up, see her get married, have children of her own, die.
Legolas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Why was the thought of the journey twisting and turning his feelings like so? At first, much like his wife, he thought it a joyous discovery; yet once one's mind ponders on the idea... A sigh of desperation came from within his chest. Finally, the blonde headed elf gave up on the thought. He would go and seek Lord Dracovia, even if he died trying.
The Mirkwood prince got up from his seat at the dinning table; strangely that was where he had strayed off to after telling Ellen of his sickness. Somehow, it brought some comfort to sit there. He imagined all of his friends taking a seat and enjoying their meal. Even his father, Lord Elrond, and the pesky Elladan and Elrohir, appeared in his vision. Just then, he realized it was nothing but a daydream, and the elf shot open his blue eyes.
His long delicate fingers moved atop one of the wooden backs of a chair. Legolas than moved down the table, and soaked in all the memories of the past three years. His meeting Gimli, the Quest, the last battle, the fall of Sauron, meeting Ellen, going home, having Adelina. Each memory was different, yet none of them made him feel sad or distressed. Surprisingly, they all made the elf feel warm. Before moving on, Legolas pondered on these thoughts; he didn't want to let the feeling of joy in him to leave right then, at least not with so much doubt in his mind.
Finally, he gave in to harsh reality and came back to the present. Long years of peace had reigned between all the lands, and Gondor prospered like never before. Rohan, from the leadership of Eomer, was growing as well. Each of the western kingdoms were buying little bits of land from the more eastern kingdoms. Soon, both Rohan and Gondor had ten percent more land. There farmers whom had been devastated from Lord Dracovia's power sucking, moved there and lived happily with the land.
Then it entered the mind of the Mirkwood prince again. Lord Dracovia of the North. Noone was quite sure where he came from, though there were those who speculated that he was the true dark lord before Sauron rose to power; others thought him a god. Either way, his actions showed neither good or evil. The dragon lord seemed quite nuetral at the moment, and didn't head the peace calls from Gondor or Rohan. Lord Dracovia simply stayed in his own land, rebuilding what Sauron had lost. Much like his wife, Legolas was undetermined whether the new lord was good or evil.
Legolas gave one last sigh and moved out of the room. He had work to do, and couldn't be pondering on such things as the Lord of the North. It didn't matter anyway, as long as Dracovia held the antidote to what ailed him; surely that was enough reasoning to keep the quest going. The Mirkwood prince moved out of the dinning room and started down the hall; just then, something caught his ear. Someone was asking for him. "Daranth?" The blonde elf moved to the other side of the room and opened the door.
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Where was his master? There were only so many places an elf could hide, or where there? "If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's avoiding me!" With the thought came a laugh, and after that a long pause. The idea couldn't be dismissed. Surely the Mirkwood elf had heard him calling at some point. "Maybe... No! Prince Legolas wouldn't do that!" 'Why am I still placing a title on him?' A sigh of desperation came from his chest. He knew why he was still placing a title on his master; it was because he still didn't completely forgive himself for being so weak, for giving away Legolas' secret so fast. What other thoughts would he reveal? Daranth lowered his head and just stood there. The young elf felt so ashamed for what had happened. Still, Legolas had forgiven him. That was all he could do, and he did it. A small smile began to pull at the dark haired elf's lips. Maybe, it was okay.
Jus then, he caught the sight of a young messenger boy. These boys were always running around the palace and catching every detail. 'Perhaps,' Daranth thought, 'he has seen Prin- Legolas.' The young elf took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was apparent that he had not resolved his issue yet. Yet, he had work to be done. With a false smile, Daranth ran to the boy. They were standing outside the dinning room door when he finally caught up to the messenger. "Exscuse me? Boy!" The child stopped and turned back. When he saw the elf, he felt all of his muscles tense and freeze up.
Daranth stopped just inches from the child. With a smile he kneeled and looked into the dark green eyes. "Y-yes sir?" Obviously speaking with an elf made the boy nervous. Was it fear?- or amazement? The young elf couldn't help but release a sigh. Then he spoke in a soothing voice that was like flowing honey. This immediately calmed the boy and he looked much more relaxed, as the words flowed from Daranth's lips.
"You've been all around the palace today, yes?- good. Then I need to know if you've seen a blonde elf?"
"No, sorry. Although I've seen Lady Arwen if you wish to-" the messenger boy was cut off when Daranth placed a hand on his scrany shoulder. "I'm sorry, I do not wish to speak with Lady Arwen. Thank-you for your help. Here," the elf produced a small coin and placed it into his palm. With a smile the boy wrapped his arms around the dark haired elf's neck. This was such a shock, that Daranth just stayed where he was. Once the boy was done with his hug, he stood in front of the elf.
"What is the elf's name? Maybe I can ask around for him and tell you!"
"Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, people will know him as that. Now run along, and maybe our paths will cross before I leave." The once shy boy now jumped with pleasure and ran down the hall. Happiness swelled inside his chest. His parents had always told him that elves from outside the city were dangerous and brought death. Yet, all this elf brought was happiness and enough money to feed his family for about eight days. This was enough to convince him that elves were bad at all. Still, he knew his parents would never believe him; perhaps his bother. With these thought going through his mind, the young messenger boy ran off to find what his new friend was looking for. 'An elven prince.' The very words awed him.
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"You have a way with children." The voice startled Daranth and he turned to where it came from. The small smile, already on his face, grew larger; as did the younger elf's eyes. Legolas merely chuckled at the sight of his friend. Again, the younger elf looked no more older than an elfling. His eyes bright and curious, always discovering new things. Now, they just showed relief.
"Prince Legolas! How did you-"
"I heard your voice from the door- wait... 'Prince' Legolas?"
"Oh! That would explain it; the door is quite thick. Anyway, I thought you were avoiding me! Apparently not. So, your majesty, I need your help with-"
"Hold on!" Legolas held up his hands to calm down the dark haired elf down. Obviously something was wrong with him. The elven prince then placed one of his hands on Daranth's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. What the younger elf did confirmed his suspiscions; his dark eyes looked away from Legolas' blue ones. "Daranth, what's wrong? You are calling me 'Prince' Legolas; I thought I told you not to put my title on. Then you say you thought I was avoiding you! Next thing I know, your calling me 'your majesty'. Now what's wrong?"
There was a long pause of silence. The younger elf was thinking over how to answer. Legolas was not only known for the 'Fellowship of the Ring' but for inheirting his father's temper. The last thing Daranth wanted was angering the Mirkwood prince. Instead, he thought of many other possibilities to say to his master.'I could say that I'm just anxious about the quest,' but he figured that would only cover why he had been using titles. 'Maybe I can say that I thought he was avoiding duties, therefore avoiding me. No, that would anger him too quickly for my liking; calling an elven prince lazy is never a smart move. Then again, I could say I was too wrapped up in the thought of his illness and that he was avoiding me in order not to talk about it!' A slight smile wrapped itself on the younger elf's face. This made Legolas wonder all the more. Daranth noticed the other elf's narrowing eyes; he mistook it as impatients and not suspiscion. The younger elf tried to get the reason out. His mind was panicking. Yet, he was not fast enough to explain himself.
When finally a sound came from the dark haired elf's mouth, a voice echoed down the hall. "Legolas! Legolas come quick!" It was Aragorn's voice calling. The blonde elf turned to face his friend, and saw the king running towards him. In a sprint faster than any man's, Legolas made it to his friend. In a concerned voice, he asked, "What is it? What's wrong?" Aragorn huffed and puffed. Apparently he had been running all over the palace. In a steady voice, the king responded to his friend's question.
"Come with me!" Then King Elessar straightened up and began a run down the halls. Legolas was right behind him, and Daranth kept up very nicely.
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So? How do you like it. Anyway, I saw how long it was getting, and decided to leave it off where I did. Just so I can fit stuff in more. Plus, cliffies keep people reading. Hope you liked this chapter as well, and please review. Oh! and my e-mail wasn't working, so I had no way to contact my beta, so I hope there'nt aren't too many errors.
Got it? Good.
Read on...