Disclaimer: The story I tell here about Legolas and company is my own invention, and it is not part of Tolkien's story canon. This story is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.

Creation Song of Ilúvatar

Chapter 13: Taking a Tumble

Legolas smiled widely as he set foot on path that led to the bridge that crossed the Forest River and led to his father's palace. The other elves around Legolas began to speak excitedly and more loudly. Too long had they whispered or simply not spoken for fear that they would alert unwanted ears. He looked forward to greeting his family, sleeping on his bed, and eating a hearty meal.

Without a word needed, the elves separated and sped off in the direction of their homes, Legolas and Aní following suit.

"I challenge you to a race!" Aní announced, attempting to lighten Legolas' mood.

"And you think you can win?" Legolas quipped, and sprinted towards the cavernous palace with Aní keeping pace.

The two elves ran furiously towards the bridge. Aní, seeing that Legolas was edging ahead of him, threw his arm out, trying to grab Legolas' quiver. Legolas felt Aní reach out towards him, and cut quickly to his left, evading Aní's hand. Legolas let out a shout, and sprinted ahead of Aní.

Although only beat by mere seconds, Aní gathered his breath, and threw his arms up in the air, "Ai, I will not live down the embarrassment. I was beaten by an ancient elf."

Legolas laughed and threw himself on the grass, responding to Aní's jibing with panting laughter. Suddenly, Legolas felt an elf on top of him. Aní had launched himself in a tackle and caught his uncle by surprise. The two elves wrestled, their moods lightened by familiar surroundings. The two elves finally let up on each other and sprang up to their feet, carefully cleaning the grass that had been caught in their hair.

"It is good to be home," Legolas declared.

"My heart does feel lighter," the younger elf replied. "You seem of better spirits yourself Legolas."

Legolas nodded, and was about to speak when his face froze in surprise. His eyes widened and his body stilled. Aní turned to see what it was that surprised Legolas, and he too opened his mouth, but no words came out. There standing in front of them looking at them wild-eyed was the maiden that had shared their dreams. Her long black hair fell messily about her.

Aní finally was able to whisper, "That is her hair!"

Aní's words shook Legolas from his shock. "And those eyes, those are the eyes- she, she is not dead," Legolas breathed, "those are her eyes!"

The two stared intently at the maiden that stood before them and shouted out simultaneously, "Araswen!"

000000

Luzen froze as she watched the two elves playfully wrestle with each other, but was more startled when their attention focused on her. Suddenly, and in unison, the elves shouted at her. Fear gripped her and she bolted towards the nearest escape route she could see, towards the bridge and across the river. She pumped her legs as hard as they would allow, forcefully gasping for air, as her lungs seemed to collapse with each stride she took. A pain shot through her leg, but she did not dare turn around for fear that she was being pursued. But her body was quickly giving out on her.

Ahead of her she saw the bridge coming to an end and a grassy path led from it into the forest. If she could only make it to the forest, she felt she might be safer. Her reasoning was flawed but it drove her to push her body further. The pain in her leg was tearing through her as if a thousand needles were being driven into exposed bone. Her lungs burned with each breath she took, but she drove on.

Aní and Legolas stood startled watching the young maiden run away from them in obvious fear. They had startled after her, but decided they would remain far enough behind as to not startle her further. Their pace was rather leisurely as the young maiden's pace slowed dramatically.

As Luzen's foot crossed the threshold of the bridge, her body gave away underneath her, unable to continue under her demands. Time seemed to slow as her legs collapsed under her and her body flew forward. Luzen threw her arms out instinctively to brace herself from being flung face first into the grass beneath her, and as she saw the earth coming up quickly, she flinched as she realized that would surely reinjure herself.

As this thought crossed her mind, she felt knees burn sharply with the grass that met them, and she skidded forward until her hands hit the ground. Her arms buckled from the force of impact on the ground and her elbows joined her knees in skidding along the grass, until finally her arms collapsed under her body, and she came to a stop. The force of her body slamming down on the earth and her arms below her knocked the wind out of her, and the young woman lay on the earth, wheezing and gasping for any little air she could suck in.

Legolas and Aní had bolted into a sprint as they sensed that she was about to take a tumble, quickly reaching her, and crouching by her side. They tried to have her remain out-stretched, as this would ease air back into her lungs. The young woman did not seem to object to their ministrations, as she was still too dazed from her fall and lack of breath to contemplate what exactly was occurring.

A voice from behind the two elves startled them. "It seems that already havoc is being unleashed in my kingdom upon your return," Thranduil paused, looking over the mortal maiden, "how injured is our young guest?"

Legolas winced at his father's words, but answered him nonetheless, "She has not suffered any broken bones or cuts, but she has burns from where she skidded on the grass. She will be very sore, no doubt."

Luzen was now breathing with more ease but dared not breathe too deep as she was afraid that any move on her part could be dangerous as the three elves were inspecting her with hands and eyes. She glanced nervously back and forth between the elves, but they did not seem notice her apprehension as they were busily attending to her and discussing amongst themselves how to take her back to the healing quarters.

"I was just about to leave, when I come upon this scene! What has happened, pray tell," Mithrandir urged.

Aní replied, "It seems we startled her and she ran from us, and fell in the process."

"Move away please," the Istar instructed, "surely you all can see that you are frightening her?"

The elves looked at the young woman and noticed the nervous look in her eyes, and stepped back, allowing Mithrandir to approach the young woman. As he knelt by her, Luzen's eyes locked on her friends, and offered a weak smile.

"What has happened here, Luzen?" the wizard spoke to her in her native tongue.

She was thankful that the man known to her as Mithrandir was there with her, but she was saddened as he reiterated that he was indeed leaving, despite her new injuries. But his words had comforted her as he assured her that the mighty king welcomed her to stay as long as she pleased. She looked at the king and found him looking at her. He gifted her a warm smile in response. It was as if she was daring to look upon him for the first time. He was a sight to behold: tall, strong, and lithe, and alarmingly handsome. Indeed a mighty warrior and leader of his people!

The elves looked on as the wizard gently prodded quiet responses from his patient. Soon Luzen was pointing wearily in Legolas and Aní's direction, looking at them in the same manner she had before she had run away from them. Thranduil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, as he glanced at his son and grandson, understanding that some mischief of theirs had probably startled the untrusting stranger.

The younger elves answered the accusation, "We did nothing wrong!"

Legolas added, "At least nothing directly."

Mithrandir responded warily, "I suppose that this reunion between the lot of you was going to result in some sort of disarray, but no great harm has come of it. Help me take her back to her quarters. Aní and Legolas, I expect that you have many questions of her as she will have of you both, but in the meantime you can help with her re-injured leg. It will need more rehabilitation."

Aní queried, "But how are we supposed to speak with her if we cannot understand her? You seem to be the only one who can communicate in her strange tongue."

The King interjected, "Many things have occurred since you two have been away on patrol. I am sure you will find that communicating with her will be somewhat easier than expected."

Legolas ventured to ask, "And how is that?"

"Your father will reveal that to you later. Let us take her back before her nerves grip her again." Mithrandir gestured towards Aní and Legolas to help the young maiden cross the bridge.

Luzen had been quietly taking in the conversation that passed between the elves and the old man. Her body was pained from the harsh fall, but it had been soothed somewhat by the elves' ministrations. She realized she had a sense of familiarity with these two younger elves. But how did she know they were younger? In fact the only old person she had encountered was the old man. The Elves, as they were called, seemed to all be the same age, except for the few children she had seen. But the eyes, she mused, as the elves continued their hushed conversation, the eyes seemed to show a depth of ages if one could look long enough into them.

Could it be? Could it be that this younger elf with pale golden hair and the one with chestnut hair were her companions from her dreams? She tried to stretch her senses and allow herself to relax as the two elves were helping her up. Yes! She was sure these were them, but how?

As she listened to the elves talk, she realized that the two elves that had scared her did not think she could understand them. To her surprise, she found herself pondering the idea that this misinformation, if not corrected, might bring her an advantage. While she tried to bury her past, she was at heart a warrior, and she trusted her sense of survival. She felt the old man's hands on her brows and she looked into his eyes, his deep sky colored eyes, and felt warmth radiate through her body. She relaxed and allowed herself to relish in the peace and joy that radiated to her from these leaf people.

For that is what they were, People of the Trees! Even though some resided in the cavernous stronghold, most chose to dwell in the mighty trees. Recalling her walks with Mithrandir and Lotórie, she remembered the first time she saw Elven homes in the trees. They were secluded enough from casual glances, but once she began to search the trees above she was blessed with wondrous visions! Secured high amongst the trees in the branches were platforms that housed simple homes. The walls were made out of living vines, intricately woven in braided patterns. Strange mosses, dotted with small flowers grew in the gaps and covered the canopies of the simple homes. Yet these vines did not choke the trees. It seemed to Luzen that the homes were simply manipulated out of living organism that existed in harmony with the tree. And she was right. Such was the way of the wood elves. Indeed, everything about these tree people indicated a close relationship with their natural world. Even their ears were shaped in the fashion of leaves and so on that day she began to fondly refer to them as the leaf people- her People of the Trees!

Returning to the present, awakened from her daydream, she found herself looking into the aged face of her old man. In this moment she promised herself that as long as she was able to take in all that was being gifted to her she would try not to fight them or let fear paralyze her. With these thoughts, she pushed her troubling past further into the recesses of her mind, and turned her attention to the leaf people. She allowed her gaze to linger slowly from ear to ear, and was amazed that nature had endowed these folk who were so clearly born of the woods they lived in with the physical traits of the trees. She unconsciously rubbed the roundness of her ears and smiled at the thought that she found the leaf ears to be strangely beautiful.

The two elves that had scared Luzen out of her wits, gently assisted her back to her quarters, and she returned willingly, hoping that the emotions that had paralyzed her when she awoke would not return. She had to fight the urge to ask the old man to remain by her side if only for a couple of moments. As she was settled back into her room, Mithrandir took his leave of her, allowing healers to tend to her injuries. Thranduil had shooed Legolas and Aní out of her room, and quietly closed the door behind him.

Luzen held her breath as the healers exited her room and she waited, waited for the terror to grip her heart and squeeze it, but nothing happened. She let out a long breath and felt her eyes grow heavy with sleep. No doubt, one of the teas she had been given was a sleeping draught, but she was thankful for it, welcoming the sleep that overcame her.

As Luzen drifted in dreams, she could not shake the fair countenance of the King named Thanduil. She walked in a field of grass, wet with the dew of morning mists. She held the walking stick the old man had given her. She felt its weight secure in her hand. She felt the weight of her body lean against the staff as she walked towards the figure kneeling in the middle of the field.

Was it her injury that so burdened her? But as she looked at her hands she saw them wrinkled and worn with much age. Surprised she pulled back the sleeves of her tunic. The same silky, wrinkled skin greeted her. She let out gasp in surprise and even her voice betrayed one laden with long years. She pulled her hair, bound in a long braid, to see if it too had aged. Her braid was a tapestry of silver and gray, but still thick.

So she was an old woman in her dreams now. She looked ahead at the figure kneeling in the clearing. Her eyes were not as sharp. A golden glow emanated from the figure and it seemed waves of gold framed the figure. She walked slowly over to the figure. She could now see it was a man, hunched over on his knees, long locks of gold cascading over his face towards the ground. She heard the heart-wrenching cries that emanated from the golden stranger.

The stranger paid no attention to the old woman who approached him. He was drowning in his sorrow. He was kneeling on the ground. His body hunched over, head buried in his knees, fingers piercing the soil beneath him.

"Ya Ta Say, hello, "Luzen called out to the stranger as she approached. The stranger did not acknowledge her. As she stood close to the stranger, Luzen realized it was the King! "Shils aash, my friend," she called out more urgently; yet, no response. Feeling the weight of her old body, she leaned over, gently placing her hand on the King's back. "Ciye, my son?" Luzen spoke again.

The King turned his head towards the old woman. His face was wet with the tears that did not stop flowing, his eyes raw with emotion. Luzen stepped back, despite her frail bones. The anguish on the King's face was too much. In his eyes she had seen a tempest of sorrow unleashed as if the grief of all that was good and gone before its time was bound in his gaze.

"Father?" the Elven King cried. He grabbed the old woman's hands, gripping them tightly, "Father?" he cried more desperately.

Luzen felt the King's hands tightening as he stared at her. Yet his gaze was not upon her. It was as if he was looking beyond her. "Ai," she muttered, the pain was becoming unbearable.

Thranduil then stood, his vision locked beyond the old woman, "Come back to me! Come back! Father, Laurenor…please come back!"

The pain was too much for Luzen. Her legs crumbled beneath her. As her body fell forward, strong hands caught her, holding her in a hug.

"Forgive me, old sister," the king wept, burying his face in the old woman's hair.

Luzen wrapped her arms around the King and he wept. As his tears soaked into her clothes, a strange energy began to hum in her body. She recognized the Awakening, the call of knowledge begin to take shape in her mind's eye.

"Firstborn," she soothed, caressing the King's back, "you call for your brother and for your father, but they will not return."

The Elven King's body shuttered, a deep groan escaping his mouth. "Adar," he whispered, like a lost child.

"But they will not return," she continued, taking the King's face into her hands. "They go to the halls of your people and there they will find comfort and rest. Know this New King, they are at peace. The ravages of war are behind them."

The young King looked down upon the old woman who tenderly cupped his face in her frail hands. The strength and energy that radiated from the old woman's hands betrayed the old bones. He caught his breath, closing his eyes, understanding the truth of the words.

"I want to follow them," the New King uttered.

"But you cannot," the old woman replied.

The New King understood his burden. He could not fade. He could not wish for death. After all, his father had led him and many others away from those that hastened the Fall, precipitated by Míriel's choice. Now the path was laid out for him to lead those warriors that survived the Battle of Dagorlad home. Now it was to him to lead his people.

Luzen pulled the King back into her warm embrace and began singing a healing song.