Bit of a time-jump here! As she's growing up, Legolas has little to do with Estel's life as a child, and I'm writing it like that intentionally (trust the process) because I don't want him to know and understand her too well by the time she's an adult.

I went on a beautiful walk through a redwood forest that inspired this chapter. I hope you enjoy! Cheers!

PS: I listened to "The Eagles" from the Lord of the Rings soundtrack while writing this. It's super pretty, in case anyone else also likes to listen to music while reading!

CHAPTER FOUR

Stubborn in Silver

Time was a strange thing. Days passed like seconds to an elf, while weeks passed as moments. Entire years could go by in the blink of an eye, and Legolas would emerge from Mirkwood to find the world anew. Whensoever news reached him of strange forces moving in the east, Legolas found himself and his subjects burrowing deeper into Mirkwood at the behest of their king. Only when orcs amassed at their borders did his father send them out—but even those events came and passed in waves.

Legolas had seldom left the comforts of home in well over a decade. Even now, as he stood towering above a map of Middle Earth in his father's office chamber, he read over the names of all the places he'd missed throughout the realm. He had never been to the Shire, nor had he long traversed the forest of Fangorn.

"Where are you?"Thranduil said from his chair. When Legolas looked up, he saw his father paused from the book he had been reading from his chair.

"What do you mean?"

"You are here, but you are also far away."

Legolas turned his attention down to the map. "I am everywhere and nowhere," he said.

Thranduil smirk, turning the page of his book. "In all these hundreds upon hundreds of years that I have known you, I've seldom seen you wear that look."

"What look?"

"The one you don when you have been sitting in one place too long," he said. "Go on, then. I know what's coming. I've no matters for you to attend to in the coming weeks. Take them—return to me before the winter solstice."

"That's three months away," Legolas said. "Where am I to go in all that time?"

"I hear the realm of Lady Galadriel thrives this time of year."

Legolas looked back down at the map, at the spot he'd been observing before his father interrupted. Fangorn Forest—Lorien was just north of there. "Perhaps Haldir would take to seeing an old friend."

"You'll have to ask him that," Thranduil said with a smirk. "Is that where you'll be off to?"

"Yes." Legolas nodded. "I think so."

"Then you had better get going," he said. "Before the adventures of Lorien start off without you."

Legolas was off a few days later after following through with some final arrangements for his absence. The road was long, but the woods of Lorien were well worth the effort and travel.

Galadriel's realm was far greener than Mirkwood during the day. At night, it was a hollow expanse of pure white starlight—the fairest of all elven domains, where autumn leaves did not fall until green ones grew in springtime to replace them. The trees were pillars of silver, with the power of Nenya—Lady Galadriel's ring of power—keeping evil at bay.

A full day passed following his arrival. Legolas relaxed as he waited for his friend, seated beside a trickling fountain that glistened in the lamplight. Nearby statues stood frozen in the image of the old ones singing praises to the stars—others held lamps of pure white starlight.

In his idleness, Legolas rose from where he'd been sitting and strode to the edge of the small courtyard, where there was a sheer drop showing just how high up he was. Across the expanse of bridges, a flash of black hair drew his attention from the path below. To his surprise, a closer look revealed it to be Lady Arwen.

"Mae g'ovannen," said a voice behind him. Legolas turned at Haldir's leisurely approach. "So, you finally appear again."

"My seclusions are never willful," Legolas said and greeted him warmly as an old friend.

Haldir smiled. "I am hardly inclined to believe you. It has been long since I visited your realm, but it is more lively than Lorien shall ever be."

"There is a time and place for the peace one findshere. That is why our people flock here as they do," Legolas said, then nodded to the paths below. "Even those who live in Imladris."

Haldir looked in the direction he indicated and nodded. "Lady Arwen has been here a month. I suspect she will remain here many more."

A second shadow traversed the path behind the Evenstar. Patches of green grass grew on both sides while white starlight fell upon the silver trees surrounding her—all of them reflecting white light onto her silver dress.

"Who is that?" Legolas said to Haldir.

"The adopted daughter of Arwen Undomiel."

The prince blinked in disbelief. "That is Estel?"

He hadn't even thought of that young child in so many years—of course, he should have expected she would be much older. A young woman, now.

Haldir looked at him. "You know her?"

"I was there when she was brought to Rivendell," said Legolas, watching as she glided down the path. Her feet were bare. "How old is she now?"

"She is but eighteen years of age."

"Eighteen…" Legolas repeated. For all that he had barely left Mirkwood throughout the last decade or so, he had only seen the child briefly in passing—now, she was eighteen? "A tender age for the eldar, and even more so for humans. They age so quickly."

"It is the defining characteristic of mortality," said Haldir, the both of them watching Estel and Arwen. "To age and to pass away within the blink of an eye."

The Evenstar paused in her ascension up the hill of Cerin Amroth, and Estel stopped just down the path behind her. Quickly, she leapt toward one of the smaller trees and hoisted herself up, climbing adeptly into its branches.

"I see she is no less energetic now than she was as a child," Legolas said with something of a smile.

Haldir, conversely, let out a bit of a frustrated sigh. "You would not believe the places I have seen her climb to."

"Such as?"

Haldir merely nodded up toward the balcony of one of the tallest trees nearby.

Legolas, himself, stared at it incredulously. "You must be joking.."

"Not in the slightest."

He frowned, turning his attention back onto her as she climbed down from the tree—were the two of them playing some sort of game? "She's going to get herself killed."

"She's going to get someone else killed," Haldir said. "That…girl finds many ways to pretend to be as we are. But she will learn the hard way that it will never be so."

Before Estel could descend from the tree, Arwen had disappeared even from Legolas's view. Estel seemed adequately confused as she looked around the hill of silver roots and moss, then looked back at the tree as though meaning to climb it again. Had she lost the game?

She suddenly froze midstep—standing ramrod straight as a pair of elves passed around the corner of the path. They'd appeared from behind one of the trees and rounded to where she was, pausing briefly to greet her.

Legolas smirked at how her demeanor quickly shifted. All of a sudden, she was a well-honed, well-practiced vision of propriety. She stood at the side of the path and bowed her head gracefully as they spoke to her.

"She has learned well from her mother," he said.

"The lady does what she can," Haldir muttered, the disdain in his voice made plain. "We do what we can when she leaves."

"Is Estel staying here?"

"She has lived here for some time, now."

"And you have some discontent with that?"

"There are some who view it as an affront," he said. "Mortals do not belong within our borders. They do not belong among our kind."

Legolas arched a brow. "Does Lady Arwen not meet the Dunedin ranger on the very hill of Cerin Amroth? He is also a mortal."

"Theirs is not a comparable story," Haldir said. "The ranger is one of the Dunedain—and even more, he is the heir to the throne of Elendil. What is she, beyond a mortal child, destined to taint our land with the natural vices of mankind? No good can come of it."

"I did not think you were so prejudiced against them," Legolas said.

"I would say the same of dwarves," Haldir responded. "We will never be alike, my friend. Those who live and die by the mortal coil—we are too separate a species to understand one another. It will always be so."

Legolas said nothing to refute that. Instead, he looked down at the young woman down on the path—like a fish among birds, destined never to belong.

The night grew deep and dark as Legolas spent it in the company of Haldir and the other elves.

Hours later, the creeks of Lorien trickled and veined between the trees as he made his way back to his quarters. Earlier, they had gone to visit the guard, where Legolas admired their finely engraved swords and bows and greeted many of the young elves that he himself had trained in archery. Afterwards, they retired to a hall of starlight and music to enjoy refreshments before the end of the evening.

As Legolas strode down the path, he noted how the forest floor had appeared far less overgrown than it did from below. It was both pristine and foliaged at once, the pale glow of silver lamps casting innumerable shadows along the small bushes and rich grass. His shadow moved across the path with no less grace, the occasional breeze blowing back his hair.

"Ah—" a gasp of pain stopped him mid-step, just as he was about to ascend some stairs. Water trickled nearby, another above it, Legolas heard another pained gasp after a moment of waiting.

He stepped back, then turned off the path to follow the sound. The silver roots of the trees created a twined terrain of grass, and a small leather-bound book sat atop one of them around the curve of the creek. Legolas picked it up before going further to find its owner—there, on the other side of the tree trunk, sat a young vision in white. Her silver dress caught the light—and his attention—first, and then he turned it on the way she gripped her ankle and tested it back and forth, gasping a little when it bent too far.

At his appearance around the corner, and the quiet snap of a twig beneath his feet, her eyes snapped up to his like chips of ice. There was a brief moment of shock, followed by recognition, and then her strained expression emptied.

Estel shot to her feet, stifling a severe wince. It must have caused great pain to place weight on her ankle—her composure and stoicism were to be admired. If not a little unsettling, by the way she aptly voided her face of emotion. "Li suilon," she said with smooth composure—a reverential greeting, obviously well-practiced.

Legolas looked from her face down to her ankle, then back. "Gi suilon—ston i nif lin," he said after a moment, but her expression betrayed no emotion as she stared at him. No sign of what she was thinking or whether she understood what he said. She did nothing more than bow her head at the sentiment: a statement of recognition and acknowledgement that they had once met. "Are you hurt, my lady?"

"No—" he was surprised at how she'd snapped the word, looking up, then seemed to recoil. "Y-Your highness." Her head lowered again.

They were both clad in silver, and he wondered whether he glowed in this light as she did. Slowly, he stepped out from behind the corner, though he kept his distance at the edge of the creek. "You remember me? You were but a child when we first met."

"Yes," her quiet murmur paused. "Yes, I do remember you. Your highness."

Disperse with the formality, he wanted to say. Legolas seldom enjoyed being addressed by his station. "I heard something that sounded like distress. Did that come from you?"

There was a brief moment's worth of horror in her features. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

Legolas furrowed a brow. "It was no bother." He looked down at her ankle. "How did you injure yourself?"

Her lips didn't part to answer. Instead, Estel's eyes flickered to one of the smaller nearby trees before she could help it.

One glance in its direction, and Legolas couldn't help but laugh a little at one of the broken branches. "I see," he murmured. "Some things never do change, do they?"

A muscle fluttered in her jaw, a slight indecisiveness. She looked like she wasn't sure how to answer.

"That which is born wild will remain wild," she finally said. There was a sharp, feline intelligence in the way she spoke, the way she looked at him.

"Indeed…"

This wasn't the child he saw climbing the tree from up above—this was the practiced face of the lady who greeted the elves that happened upon her on the path. There was much below the surface of her restrained demeanor, Legolas realized, that spoke of some measure of guardedness. The kind one might assume when faced by an ill-wisher.

Those who live and die by the mortal coil—we are too separate a species to understand one another.

"Are you in need of assistance?" he asked.

Estel shook her head. "No. It's just a sprain, it'll be gone by morning—your highness."

He noted how she swayed a little, as though trying to take weight off of it without it being noticeable. "If it is sprained, perhaps you should sit down."

Finally, some reaction. Estel's eyes fluttered a bit as she considered that.

Evidently, Legolas didn't need to tell her twice. Though she attempted to descend with grace, Estel plopped back down onto the grassy mound she'd been sitting upon. A flash of her inner thoughts were betrayed as her features twisted painfully, and then her hair curtained them again. Just as fast, she turned and looked around her, pausing at the book in the prince's hand. Legolas instinctively looked down at it, too, then walked toward her.

"Is this yours?" A careful nod. "The story of Beren and Luthien," he said as he read off the cover, then set the book down on a nearby root. It was the story of the elven woman who beloved a mortal man. "A bittersweet tale, though some say it is one of heroics rather than love."

Beren was, after all, tasked with completing impossible challenges to win the hand of the lady.

A pause of silence as Estel stared at him. "All stories are about love."

He arched a brow. "Are they?"

"Yes."

Such decidedness.

Once more, Estel's expression betrayed very little of her thoughts. Instead, her attention strayed toward a nearby path, and he followed it—she was looking toward an elf-maid and male walking by. Legolas cataloged the moment and stepped back, folding his hands together behind him. "It's been many years since I last saw you, Lady Estel, and you seem to be in good health—save for that," he nodded to her ankle. "I am glad to see that Lorien has been kind to you."

Estel's eyes bolted back to him like chips of ice, but there was no aggression in them. Instead, there were thoughts in a larger and deeper quantity that she was allowing him to see.

Finally, she acquiesced before the invitation to speak. "I…like it better than Imladris," she said, practicing her pronunciation. "To a fault."

Legolas smirked. "Perhaps you should ask Lord Elrond to allow you to stay here."

"I am staying here," she said with a pause. "Your—highness."

"Please, call me Legolas if it eases you."

Estel looked at him, her expression still washed of emotion, then looked away—as though to hide some treacherous thought that'd clawed its way to the surface. "Lord Elrond arranged for my instruction with the scholars of Lorien some time ago," she said.

"Naturally—there is more than plenty of room for you here."

Finally, there was a hint of a grin, though Estel did not look at him as she made it. Instead, she looked up into the trees. "I like tall spaces," she admitted, the slightest rasp to her voice implying deep, great passion. At that moment, Legolas thought of the Halls of Thranduil. "I have everything I could need here."

"And what you want?" Legolas asked out of genuine curiosity. "Is that also plentiful here?"

Estel's hands balled together, but she didn't look uncomfortable. Instead, she glanced back toward the elf couple that had moved further down the path. "We all have our wants—the rest is history," she said, then quickly reached for the book. "Much like this night. Forgive me, but I should be getting back."

"Do you need help?" Legolas watched as she struggled to stand, then extended a hand.

Estel paused when she noticed it, her eyes wide. Her attention then trailed up his silver sleeve and eventually met his gaze, but there was no telling what she was thinking—whether she appreciated his offer for help.

"Please," he said. "It's no trouble."

"I—" She paused. "Alright."

With the utmost reluctance, Estel reached up and slated her hand into his. He gripped it tight as he lifted her from the mound, seeing the full extent of how she limped. Little by little, he guided her back across the terrain of roots.

"Mind your step," he said as he himself walked backwards, keeping a mindful eye on the lady.

She tested her ankle once before stepping over one of the roots, but it was for naught. Her knee gave out as her expression exploded with pain at the weight she placed on it—all hints of restraint gone—and cried out enough for her voice to echo between the silver trees. Estel caught herself, but not before Legolas moved reflexively to catch her. She leaned into his arm for a moment and then pulled back, refusing to look him in the face. With a slight angling of his head, Legolas saw the film of pained tears that had filled her eyes.

"Can you walk?"

"Yes," she answered instantly, though it disingenuous. Another step, and she nearly gave out again.

"Let me help you."

"No," she answered. "I can manage on my own."

"It's not an imposition," Legolas said.

"It's not about that."

"Then what is it about?"

"Nothing—it's nothing," she said. But when she tried to step again, her leg failed her.

"You need help," he said, holding her upright once again.

Estel glanced once in his direction and seemed unconvinced. "No, you mustn't—you don't understand."

"What don't I understand?"

For a moment, she looked like she wasn't expecting him to ask

"If you don't have an answer, then I know well enough," he said, extending his arm. "Come. Let me help you."

Legolas did not move—did not budge from his position looking down at the girl. This was a matter of principle, now, and she would have to see that for herself. Indeed, Estel seemed to notice it upon looking at him once more, seeing the resolve with which he stood steadfast in her way.

"Alright," the word slipped past her lips, quick as the wind. She wrapped her arm around his fully and limped as he turned her slowly down the path. At the first set of stairs, she let out another shudder of pain as her ankle hit against one of the steps—and then she nearly fell.

Legolas caught her once more, then looked up at the path ahead. There would be many more stairs to come in the direction they'd been headed.

"Here," Legolas faced her, motioning to lift her up. "You cannot walk properly. Let me help you."

The controlled expression she wore faded to horror. "What?"

"It's no trouble," he added. "Your every step is in pain, that much is clear to see. We will be walking all night otherwise, if you try to move on your own."

Estel shook her head. "You can't carry me."

"And you cannot walk, " Legolas said calmly. "I will not impose, but this may go faster if you allow it."

Her eyes dropped down the length of him in a flash, then turned and looked around them with some measure of anxiety. "I…can't."

"You cannot accept help?"

"I can't be seen—" she stopped mid-sentence, rethinking her words. "I just…can't."

There are some who view it as an affront, Haldir had said. Mortals do not belong within our borders. They do not belong among our kind.

Legolas—a prince of his kind—considered that for a moment. "There is no shame or impropriety in accepting help during a time of need," he said. "The opinions of those who do not see that aren't worth a second thought."

Estel fidgeted a little, then looked around them once more. She even looked up at the treetops, he saw, before returning to him with a note of anxiety. "If anyone appears along the way, you must immediately set me down."

"As you wish."

She nodded.

Permission granted, Legolas stepped toward her. Estel's hands slid atop his shoulders first, moving as though she were reluctant to touch him—as though it were truly forbidden. In a swift movement, Legolas bent down and drew an arm under her knees. Another went around her backside. She let out a tiny sigh as he lifted her slowly from the ground, situating her comfortably in his arms.

Her fingers tangled briefly in his hair before she withdrew them. "Sorry…"

"For what?" Legolas said, now carrying her easily up the stairs.

"For your—" Estel paused, looking at his hair, then looked around the paths once more. "For this."

He grinned ever so slightly as he walked. "Perhaps you ought not wear a dress if you plan to go climbing trees," he said. "As for the rest—there is nothing to apologize for." She hadn't stopped looking around. "Who are you looking for?"

Her attention snapped back to him. "No one—" she stuttered. "I'm not looking for anyone."

"You seem like you are."

Legolas turned his eyes ahead as he walked, where the path had turned a bit uneven. "I would have us pass through unseen," she finally said. "There are some who would disapprove of this—of your helping me."

He smirked. "I should like to see them try and tell me that," Legolas said. "For am I not free to do as I please, with whomever I like?"

Estel looked at him. Something unspoken passed between them in the moment that followed, but she quickly broke. "You're remiss to think that they won't offer their opinions on it anyway. They are all too keen to do so."

"Let them be keen." Legolas was surprised to see the slightest roll of her eyes, though she tried to keep it hidden—as though he knew not of what he spoke. "Do you disagree?"

When she looked back at him, her face was frozen and restrained once more. "It's not my disagreement that matters."

"Then whose?"

"It doesn't matter enough to say," Estel answered—decidedly once again, unwilling to yield or say more on the matter. From there, the moments passed slowly as he escorted her the rest of the way, following her direction, then stopped to look up the height of the tree.

"I can go myself from here," Estel said, trying to let herself down. "Someone might see from higher up."

"You could not walk the paths, I doubt you will be able to climb the tree."

"I would rather weather this pain," Estel said, physically removing herself from his grasp, "than be forced to endure another."

"What other pain are you speaking of?" he asked as Estel gripped the railing, leaning heavily against it as she turned to look at him. He was genuinely curious.

Instead of answering, Estel's expression emptied, save for a softness that spoke of subtle ease. "Thank you for helping me, your highness—I bid you a fair night," she said as she turned away from him briefly, then looked back with a strange look. "A most kind one."

A flutter of confusion tugged at the corner of his brow at her tone. How very strange that he was so terribly and utterly unable to read the obvious hidden meaning behind her words—though perhaps it was her skill in hiding it that should be praised.

"Good night," Estel said before he could voice any one of those questions, then forced herself to turn the corner quickly, disappearing into the night.

Legolas is such a cocky character sometimes in the books/movies, I'm aiming to do him some justice in that department. I hope the time jump wasn't too jarring for you guys, and that you enjoyed their interaction. Let me know what you think! Til next time! :)