Author's Note:
Here we go again. Thank you for all the lovely comments you've written! I appreciate each and every one of them.
I hope you're fine and everything's well! I'm quite safe here. Tired and sad, but safe.
Chapter 34, Stream of Encounters, part I
A full bowl of porridge was on the table in front of Sulrochil.
It glared back at the elf as darkly as she was staring at it. She had promised to eat, and eat she would - even if it meant spooning the odious, sticky slime the men preferred. She had no idea why they wished to ruin entirely perfect grains to make a revolting dish like this. Gwennor and Hwinnor were briefing her and Legolas about Dinalagosson's findings - there indeed was havoc in Shadowland. Sulrochil knew that already, though, and was not listening to the Chiefs - and besides, the porridge was scoffing at her.
Cautiously, she decided to dip her spoon into it.
"How is our favourite Princess today?" Gwennor suddenly said.
The promising diving of Sulrochil's spoon into the food was interrupted. "Do not call me that!"
"Prickly as always, I would say," Hwinnor stated, waving his spoon in the air.
"I order you two to cease calling me that," she said, and with a whip of her hair, turned to look up at Legolas. "Do I have the right to order them?"
"No," he said.
"Why?" she insisted. "I need that right, and I need it now."
"You do not have that right because the world would be doomed if you were granted it."
With a persistent stare towards her betrothed, Sulrochil got him to continue, "You will get the right only after we are married."
"That is weird," Sulrochil said, tilting her head to the left. "Why do I have some rights now and others only after the wedding?"
"You have not figured it out yet?" Legolas asked.
"No."
"You have been granted now the rights that you and I need to be equal, but not those which also affect other people."
"But I have the right to order the people in the army, right?"
"Gwennor and Hwinnor are not in the army."
"But you said I do not have the rights which affect other people, so I should not be able to order anyone."
"You and I also need to be equal in the army, and that would not be possible without your right to command the soldiers."
"This is confusing," Sulrochil pondered.
"Not at all. Perhaps it just is not consistent with your inner reasoning," Legolas smirked. "By the way, do you have one?"
"My feelings tell me," she said, glowering at Legolas, "that then it is you who must forbid them from calling me with that unholy word."
"Me? Forbid them? Never. A Princess is a wholly legitimate word, and I cannot forbid anyone from saying it."
"But I am not a Princess."
"Aye, but then again, you are not a butterfly even though they previously called you Gwilwileth. You will just have to handle those two all by yourself." (Gwilwileth=butterfly)
"How am I supposed to accomplish that?" Sulrochil shrugged.
"Have you ever heard of a thing called 'asking nicely'?"
"Asking those two nicely will not have any effect," she sighed, but when all three other elves wore expectant smiles, she went along with it, "My dear friends, Hwinnor and Gwennor, could you, please, stop calling me that word?"
"Of course," Hwinnor said, fixing his gaze at his partner.
"Definitely, our Admirable Princess," Gwennor said with a slight nod.
Sulrochil gave an I-told-you-so-glare towards Legolas and fixed her eyes on her food. Legolas grew alarmed when he realized Sulrochil was not feigning anger but was furious for real when she thrust the first spoonful forcefully into her mouth. He had no choice but to begin eating himself, trying to win some time to figure out how to calm her. With a sideways glance, he saw her second spoonful had somewhat eased her anger, but Legolas had no idea how to continue, so he only slowly ate his food.
When Sulrochil put the third spoonful into her mouth, she was already smiling inwardly at her outburst but did not dare to look at Legolas because she was sure she would laugh if she looked at him.
"Aranel, now that you have eaten three spoonfuls," Gwennor said. (Aranel=Princess)
"Which is three spoonfuls more," Hwinnor continued, "than we have ever seen you eat."
"We might tell you what we need to do next…"
"...which is the reason why we still are lingering in this town…"
"...and not running through the woods toward Shadowland."
"The King and most of the Captains are already gathering the troops in the Rocky Valley north of Lake-Town."
"We all must hurry there at once, meaning after you both have eaten."
"Your hair seems to be ready anyways," Hwinnor said, nodding at Legolas.
"More than ready, I might add," Gwennor replied, turning to regard said tresses. "Look at the golden locks! Does betrothal provide one with an incomparable ability to finally make one's braids straight?"
"A peculiar mystery we do have here, indeed," Hwinnor wondered, pointing at the trim braids by his spoon.
"One must look good in war, or everything might be ruined," Gwennor stated. "But alas, we do not have time to dwell on the matter any further because Sulrochil has to meet her group."
Sulrochil smiled at the banter and tried not to let her amusement affect her tone. "Did Hithfaeron manage to find enough people?" It did have an effect.
"Aye," Gwennor replied, "After he had talked to the soldiers, there were over thirty volunteers."
"Over thirty?" she wondered, eyes wide open. "How did he get so many?"
"He did not get anybody," Legolas joined the conversation with his eyes full of love. "You did it yourself, Sulrochil."
"Me?" she turned to meet his eyes with a similar look lighting up her whole face. "Most of them do not even know me."
"You are wrong. They know who you are," Legolas smiled fondly. "They may not know you personally, but they know what you mean to our kingdom, and they all want to give their best for you, for us."
Before Sulrochil managed to reply, three men at the next table cut into their conversation. "Sorry to interrupt you," one of them said, "but one hell of a sleep you must have had."
"I beg your pardon?" Hwinnor said sharply.
"Those two," the man waved towards Legolas and Sulrochil. "Yesterday, there was a flaming war between them, and now, oh, just look at the two sweethearts. We all know what this lady said yesterday was a lie - the elves do not sleep. So, we were only wondering how amazing a sleep they must have had."
The crowd of men burst out laughing. Gwennor stood up, and with two furious strides, he got closer to the man and aimed his bow directly at the man's chest. "That was the most offensive thing I have ever heard," he hissed. His eyes were as black as coal, making the man diminish lower on his chair.
"I…" the man mumbled. "I-it was only a jest."
"It is no jest when you say that kind of thing to an elf," Gwennor spat, moving his arrow slowly closer to the man. You might say it to a man, to a hobbit, or even to a dwarf - if you dare - but never to an elf."
"Wha- what do you mean?" the man said, lifting his arms up and flowing even lower on his chair.
"You seem to have invaluable information on elves - how we do not sleep, and so on. One might only wonder why you do not know one of the foundational matters of us - the thing to which you were referring is sacred, and it belongs to marriage. What is theirs, is only theirs. Others do not talk about it, do not guess, do not even think about it, and especially do not make fun of it."
Hwinnor came closer, put his hand on Gwennor's arrow, and lowered it slowly, "That man is not worthy of your arrow."
"That man offended Prince Legolas and his betrothed," Gwennor said, raising the arrow again towards the man, "and at the same time, every elf there is and ever has been in this world. Thus the worm deserves to die."
"Should you kill him now, this ugly story would sweep through all of Lake-town, offending us even more. The tale would grow wings and fly everywhere. Now it is only the foolishness of a bunch of simpletons in this wretched town in the backwoods of the world. What we need to do is regard the men as they are - more useless than bedbugs in their mattress."
The two elves glared at each other, and the meanings of their silent conversation floated in the air. Finally, Gwennor relented and put his arrow back into his quiver. He bowed to Sulrochil and said as cordially as he managed, "My Lady Sulrochil, would you please come with me and I will take you to Hithfaeron, who will introduce you to your group?"
"Aye," she chirped, bouncing up, "where are they?" With an air of aloofness around her, Sulrochil followed Gwennor to the adjoining room through the staring crowd, trying to calm herself as she walked between tall, stinky men, trying to shrug their oglings off her body.
The shame was twirling in Legolas' mind, and it annoyed him because he was not the one who had done anything wrong, but being subjected to this kind of disgraceful remark makes dirt trickle along one's spine. It could not be said aloud, but others could never fully understand elves in this matter. It was the most glaring reason why the elves had not ever wanted prolonged contact with the others.
Legolas was angry at himself because he had done nothing, had only been stunned by the noxious words. Of course, Hwinnor was right - it would have been harmful to kill the man, but still, he deserved to die, and while he berated himself for not doing it, he felt thin silvery threads in his soul whispering the words of assurance that it was better this way, it was always better this way. Killing the man would have wounded Legolas himself - and it would have damaged Sulrochil even more when she would have been forced to feel his remorse about murdering a man over such an ill-conceived reason.
Today they would both kill again. Kill myriads of orcs, and with each enemy falling to the ground, their own souls would be buried under the growing pile of lifeless corpses. Their souls would scream for something, anything, to purify the ugliness, to rectify all wrongs, to alleviate the pain.
Today would be the first time after their bonding that Legolas would kill anyone - and tonight would be the first time when he would have to reveal all his wounds to her.
The all-consuming pain he had thrust into a black hole somewhere back in his soul began moving forward.
Hwinnor was looking at the backs of Sulrochil and Gwennor as they paced out of the room, and he was totally oblivious to the havoc in Legolas' mind until he turned his eyes at the Prince. The blue eyes were drifting to the shadows in Legolas' soul, alarming Chief Marchwarden. In a blink of an eye, he had to decide how to wrench him back from wherever he was disappearing… "Do you know why I forbade Gwennor from killing the man?" Hwinnor shouted in Elvish to Legolas and was relieved to see Legolas turning his head to meet Hwinnor's eyes, "Legolas, I stopped him because it should have been you who approached the man!"
Legolas' eyebrows furrowed, and it made Hwinnor satisfied. "The man offended you!" he continued roasting the Prince.
"I-"
"That revolting man offended Sulrochil! Do you understand what that means?"
"Aye-"
"It means it is you who should have defended her! And what did you do? Sat still like a feeble maiden!"
"You have no idea what you are talking about!" Legolas shouted, and took a step closer to Hwinnor. "You have no right!"
Hwinnor prodded his forefinger at Legolas' chest. "I have every right because you are a sissy!"
"You!" Legolas shouted and thrust the hand off his chest. For a while, the storm raged in the darkness as the Prince and the Chief glared at each other.
A moment of total silence surrounded the elves. Finally, Hwinnor lifted his hand to Legolas' shoulder and gave him a light squeeze.
"You," Legolas said again and paused to look first at Hwinnor's hand and then his eyes, "did this on purpose."
"Definitely on purpose, and I will not apologise because even if none of it was true, I needed to get you out of wherever you were."
Noruinivel, Captain of the Elven Guard, stood close and watched the confrontation between Hwinnor and Legolas, and her heart ached for her Prince. It was never easy for an elf to hear such blasphemy, but this moment was the worst time possible to hear those sort of remarks.
The cruel words fly past the elf when one is still oblivious to these things. They flow like water down the skin when one is already overly familiar with these matters. But now - just as one has been betrothed - and a brief moment ago begun considering the possibility of applying these matters to oneself, they disgrace the soul of the elf, tearing apart one's most valuable treasure.
For a moment, Noruinivel had thought she must interfere, but fortunately, the Chief Marchwardens had played it well. It was good that the boy was finally surrounded with people who did not give a whit about his royalty - but exactly how in the world had those two pesky rascals ever become Chiefs!? It felt like it was but yesterday that Noruinivel had been forced to drag the two grinning boys out of the archery track of the Elven Guard by their ears. The dunderheads had snuck into it in the dead of night - only to make a hilarious contest by themselves, "We are here only to honour the birth of the Prince…" "Off you go!" "...please, bring our best regards to the baby, and make it known to him, we are willing to help..." "And never come back!" "...him manage mischief..." "Get out of my sight!"
Their most ingenious plans had caused much trouble during their youth, but the years passed and had made miracles in their hearts.
The world was changing far too rapidly.
As Legolas cast a final glare at the men, Noruinivel was awash with an eerie feeling about the upcoming war. She was used to all sorts of skirmishes, but this time something was profoundly different, and she ought to speak to someone. During all her millennia in the army, she was certain the person next to her would not be particularly receptive to her suggestions - even though in the few past years, he probably had mellowed to the idea that feelings could bring useful information. Nevertheless, this was not the right time to tell her vague worries to the Prince. Noruinivel knew she had to address those concerns with someone else.
Aye, she would talk about her suspicious feelings later, but now this young Prince needed to hear something else, "May I talk to you, my Lord?"
"You heard nothing," Legolas said to Noruinivel.
"I do not possess the ability to prevent myself from hearing and seeing things, my Lord," Noruinivel said, "but I do have a heart, and I know what it is to love. Above all, I have a love for my kingdom, and therefore I am able to keep it all to myself. May I speak freely to you, my Lord?"
"Please, continue."
"Our people have always wished only for good things for you, and I believe I speak for everyone when I say your love brings meaning to us. For a long time, we have waited for this day. Our homeland has been a place of sorrow, of misery, and it has left a deep mark on us. The dark night had fallen upon our kingdom. Now there is finally hope, and our country is beginning to feel like home again. It is easy to defend your home. For your home, you would do everything..."
As Noruinivel spoke, Legolas turned his head towards the entrance as he saw a group of elves march in, apparently looking for someone.
Dathon and his soldiers.
Dathon. Dathon, the very best of the Captains, the faultless knight in impeccably shining armour. What is it with you, though? I have heard you are quite skilful and deft - but only when I am not around. You are experienced and aged - older than Father - why do you always stutter and stagger before me? Never mind, here you are now. But did you manage to bring the horses back home through the wicked forest, or did the spiders eat them all? Or were you forced to take a detour with the beasts and thus arrived only now?
"My Lord Legolas," Dathon said, interrupting Noruinivel's speech. "Where can I find the King?"
"Can you not see I am talking to Noruinivel?" Legolas said, nodding towards the other Captain. "Wait and listen to what she has to say. You might learn something."
"We all admire your sacrifice, my Lord," Noruinivel continued. "When two elves are betrothed, they should not be separated, but, alas, you were forced to do it when she was sent on a mission that was beyond everyone else's capabilities. I do not know all the reasons that led to this decision, but what she accomplished out there is astonishing. What she did was truly amazing, and because of her, we shall gain victory today. Everyone in this army is happy to feel your love shielding us and giving us strength. With love, we can win the war today."
"So it is true that you are betrothed, my Lord?" Dathon asked, eyes wide open. "And that she has been on a mission all this time? May I ask what she has been doing?"
"You have heard correctly, and I am betrothed," Legolas said, looking sharpy at Dathon's demeanour, trying to discover why he had used the words 'all this time'. Was this about the ugly rumours there had been going around? He decided to test the waters to find out if Dathon was behind those.
Arranging his words carefully, Legolas answered Dathon's question, "My betrothed was sent north to Shadowland to acquire information about the northern enemy forces. For decades, if not centuries, they have been strengthening their forces behind the Grey Mountains and only recently came to our eyesight. Initially, she got orders from Mithrandir. Unbeknownst even to me, the King gave her differing orders.
"For a long time - a bit too long if you ask me - she scouted there, and finally she found out that there was an opposing group. Did she bring back that piece of knowledge? No, of course not. That is not who she is. Cold-bloodedly, she killed the opposing group leader and all his guards, secretly in the dead of night, and made it look like it was made by the other orcs. She disobeyed everyone and did exactly what she wanted, slapping everyone else on their faces, including me. Especially me."
"What happened to her when this was disclosed?" Dathon whispered.
"That was an unwise thing to do alone," Legolas said, "and, at first, I was incensed by her foolhardiness. For a long time, I will admit I was irate, full of seething anger, and made it known to her. Nevertheless, I began to see reason little by little. Now I know it was the right thing to do. Her scheme proved to be successful, and we know they are in the mayhem. The opposing groups are slaughtering each other, and she is the hero today. Without her actions, we would not possess the chances that we have now."
"Where is she now?" Dathon asked.
"Over there in the next room. Giving her orders to her new group."
"She has been away many decades and-" Dathon began, but his sentence was left unfinished when the doors slammed open, and another elf strode in.
The elf took a couple of steps, set her jaw and let her gaze sweep over the place, silencing the entire room.
At once, Dathon recognized Tauriel even if she was clad in strange clothes and her appearance was different in many ways. Finally, she was back, though, and things were right again. To Dathon's surprise, Tauriel did not speak to Legolas first, but with a polite bow to Noruinivel, "I was expecting to find you here, Noruinivel."
"I certainly was not expecting you here today," Noruinivel replied, mirroring the bow. "But I am overjoyed to have you back. Did you hear our discussion?"
"All of it," Tauriel said. "Interesting, indeed. May I gather that I have been missed here?"
"Many times, everyone wished you were here. Why are you back?" Noruinivel asked, and not giving Tauriel time to reply, she continued. "Are you here to do what you can do best?"
"There will be a war today," Tauriel said. "May I offer my bow and my soul again to defend what I have pledged to defend?"
"Then you are exactly the thing our kingdom needs today," Noruinivel said, glancing at Legolas.
"Let us find out if you are right." Tauriel turned from Noruinivel to him and greeted him with a slight nod. "Legolas."
"Tauriel," Legolas said, and a broad smile lit his face. Her sudden arrival had surprised him, but just right now, he could not ask the real reasons for her return. Instead, he wished to drag the truth out of Dathon - and what sort of insolent tales in the world people had been spinning about him and Tauriel. If she indeed had heard his previous discussions with Noruinivel and Dathon, she might even wish to go along with him to finally sort out these fabrications.
"My apparel is not what it should be," she said, pointing at the Lothlorien Marwardens' clothing she was wearing. "But may I join the war with you, nevertheless?"
"You always have a special place by my side," Legolas said. "It is your heart that matters, not your appearance."
"But are you certain no one is against my arrival?" Tauriel asked. "Am I truly welcome? By everyone?"
"If someone opposes your return, it is against my will. Therefore, that someone must confront me, not you," Legolas said, knowing all too well whom they were referring to. With an inward sigh, he put the possible argument that could take place soon aside and continued to Tauriel, "You have always been watching my back, like a hawk."
"That has been my purpose all along," Tauriel said.
The smiles on their faces made Dathon content. Tauriel might look weird, but she was unscathed. She might act strangely, but now she was entitled to it - and she was back. That was all that mattered. Dathon's worst fears had not come to pass after all.
Important Author's Note:
When I published this chapter a few days ago, it was a lot longer. What you just read is only the first part of the chapter. Today, 13th March 2021, I've decided to make drastic changes to the latter part of the chapter. So, I have removed about half of the text from the end. After I wrote it again and finally am pleased with the plot, I will publish it as the second part of the chapter, Stream of Encounters II.
I'm really sorry I've again messed around with the storyline. I'm afraid this is how the writing process goes. You write, then rewrite and then throw everything into the rubbish bin and start all over again. Usually, you, my dear readers, don't know anything about it when I'm able to do it all before I publish anything.
BUT I must do this, and I strongly feel it will all be for the better.