Once more, the sentry and Prince were sitting cross-legged on the floor of the young Silvan's room, in the slanted shafts of faint sunlight from the windows. Having long since wrapped his Prince's ribs, Kalin now played stones with his charge; just as Kalin hoped, the diversion had been both welcomed and enjoyed by Legolas.
In serious contemplation, the sentry tried valiantly to position one of his last remaining stones to capture one of Legolas' many remaining stones; the longer Kalin planned his next move, the wider the younger Wood-Elf's smile grew, which made the sentry wonder, I must only be prolonging the inevitable. Something tells me Legolas has already sussed out how to win this game! Indeed, when Kalin finally sat a stone in what he thought to be a relatively useful position, Legolas picked up one of the polished turquoise stones, tapped and hopped it over four of the five ivory stones left upon the board, and with this, captured all but the last of Kalin's pieces.
Kalin stared for a moment at the board, wondering how he had not seen this coming, and then shook his head in bewildered admiration. "You've won again, my Prince. And I'm not even sure how."
The sentry smiled in glad wonderment as his Prince laughed loudly, brightly, and without reservation. Legolas began to pick up the last of the stones from the board to set them in their positions for another game, telling the elder Silvan as he did so, "If I didn't know how much you hate to lose, I would think you were letting me win because I am Prince!"
At this, the sentry chuckled along with Legolas. Normally, Kalin had a fair chance at winning a game of stones when he played with most anyone else; however, the Prince had grown up playing the game with the twin Lords of Imladris, who had learnt the game and its intricacies from their father and Lord Erestor, both of whom were nigh unbeatable – or so Kalin heard. Thus, Legolas was a hard opponent to best. Of the multitude of games they had played, Kalin had won only three, and those three had been hard fought.
Before he realized how familiar he was being to tease his Prince in such a way, Kalin responded playfully, "And if I didn't know better, I would think you were hiding extra stones up your sleeve to place upon the board when I'm not looking!"
Once the words left Kalin's mouth, he promptly flushed in embarrassment to have accused his Prince of cheating – even if only jokingly. He need not have worried. Unlike the King, the Prince held a vast sense of humor. To his relief, Legolas began laughing again; in fact, the young Wood-Elf seemed even more amused at Kalin's mortification, for Legolas held his arm to his contused side to keep from furthering his injury as he outright giggled at Kalin's mocking accusation and blushing visage.
"If you had spent as many wintry, snowy days in the Last Homely House cooped up with Elladan and Elrohir as have I, you would have learnt all the strategies for winning, as well. And," the Prince added, shifting upon the floor so he sat upon his heels rather than his rear, "you would have learnt how best to cheat! Elladan always tried to hide pieces, as you claim I have, while Elrohir used to accidentally bump the table and make the stones move, and then try to reset them how he wanted rather than how they were. But even though they cheated, I still learnt to beat them by playing fair."
Kalin chuckled again at the imagining. He knew how much his Prince adored Elrond's twin sons. Although the Elvenking and Queen had wanted more children, the Queen had not lived to give Legolas any siblings. In a way, Elladan and Elrohir were the two brothers who Legolas would never have. He could not speak for Legolas, but for himself, the Prince was as a brother, so he could appreciate the laegel's familial love for the twins since he felt the same for Legolas.
"Do you think soon we can travel to Imladris?" the Prince was asking, which drew the sentry from his wayward thoughts. "I miss Minyatar, and Elladan and Elrohir."
Legolas had not left the Greenwood since the Queen's death. Truth be told, he had barely been allowed to travel beyond the innermost flets and huts just outside the stronghold's gates. For this reason, the guard had the distinct feeling Thranduil would do whatever it took to keep the Prince ensconced in the Greenwood. Kalin could see the longing upon his Prince's face. Legolas wanted the comfort of his loving second family – especially since his father offered him none. Missives had been sent from Imladris once Elrond and his sons heard of the Queen's death, but Legolas wanted a soothing and paternal presence, not mere condolences on parchment.
Not wanting to dash his charge's hopes, though, Kalin rolled one of the smooth ivory stones in his palm as he promised, "I will speak to the King of it as soon as feasible, my Prince, to gauge his thoughts on the matter."
He had not promised they would go, only promising he would mention it to the King. Kalin was certain Thranduil would say no and likely criticize Kalin for even suggesting such a thing; and yet, the gratitude shining brilliantly in Legolas' cerulean eyes was the only incentive Kalin needed to keep his word and risk the Elvenking's wrath.
Speaking of which, he thought of Thranduil. He had made a promise to Ninan to see Legolas dressed and ready for the evening meal. By the slant of sunlight coming in from the diminutive windows overhead, Kalin determined it was nearing time for Legolas to begin preparing for the meeting with the King and his guests. Kalin was not certain who it was in particular Thranduil wished for Legolas to meet, but an envoy from Lothlórien had come this same morning, so Kalin assumed it was one of the emissaries. I wish we could sit here forever, the sentry thought wistfully, turning his attention back to Legolas, who was carefully placing the stones in the indentations meant to keep them from rolling away during the game. Hopefully, Thranduil has sobered some before the evening meal, but if nothing else, the Prince will not be alone with his father tonight, so no more ill can come to him. As much as he did not want to relinquish his Prince back to the King's company, Kalin did not want Legolas to be late and thus earn more of his father's wrath.
Regretfully, he reminded his Prince, "In an hour or so, it will be time for you to meet with your father. Do not forget – he asked for you to dress appropriate to your station."
In other words, as both Kalin and Legolas knew, the Elvenking wished for the Prince to wear one of the finely made robes Legolas usually eschewed in favor of the garb he normally wore – clothes much like what the Silvan warriors wore while out in the woods. The simple braids he sported now would need to be arranged in a more elaborate pattern, and additionally, the young Wood-Elf would be made to wear a crown of flowers, leaves, or ivy – or all three – to match his father's natural crown.
To Kalin's relief, Legolas' good cheer did not dissolve at the reminder of his imminent meal with the King. "You are right. I need to bathe and dress, don't I? I'm sorry, but I won't be able to beat you at stones another time this evening," the young Silvan mendaciously regretted to his elder, giving Kalin a rueful shake of his head. Unable to keep up the pretense, Legolas' lips curled at the corners into an impish smirk.
Having only just set the board for another game, Legolas now took to gathering the stones up to put them back in the bag so they would not be lost. Chuckling at his Prince's lightheartedness, Kalin set about helping to put the game away. "I'm not sure if my vanity could have endured another loss. If you end up as adept at tactics in battle as you are with strategy in winning games of stones, you'll soon have every spider eradicated from the Greenwood, my Prince," he told Legolas with sincere admiration for the young Silvan's sharp mind.
As he was a Prince, Legolas was accustomed to being flattered by those who sought to gain his favor and rarely took said blandishment to heart; however, Kalin's artless, frank praise made the Prince's fair face beam in pleasure. Tightening the drawstrings of the bag to keep the stones from falling out, the young Silvan sat the bag upon the now emptied board to tell Kalin, "How many more years before you think our King will let me patrol with the others?"
It was Legolas' desire not to sit safely inside the mountain fortress, but to do as his kith did in defending their homeland from the Dark beings who threatened the Silvan's livelihood and lives. Worry though he did about Legolas' safety in doing so, Kalin was perpetually pleased over his humble Prince's wish to be of service to his people, rather than let his people service him.
He stood and held his hand out to Legolas to aid the injured younger Elf into standing, as well, all the while telling him, "It won't be long now. Twenty, thirty years. At most, fifty. And then, you'll be roaming the woods with a patrol of your own."
Just saying this made the sentry's stomach clench in anxiety, but Legolas nodded excitedly. The young Silvan sat on the bed to pull off his boots, his open face decipherable like a book to his sentry, who watched as his Prince daydreamt of the day when he could be counted as a true warrior. As he observed the laegel, Legolas grimaced in discomfort when tugging off his boots, for bending his bruised torso to do so stretched the aching muscles there.
"Do you need help?" he asked, unthinkingly questioning whether the Prince was too wounded to perform such personal matters as a bath and dressing on his own. Upon realizing his error of potentially offending Legolas' pride, the sentry quickly amended his offer, saying, "I can wait here so I can rewrap your ribs after you bathe."
Legolas nodded his agreement absentmindedly, his attention still upon his daydream and not Kalin or his sentry's unintentional slight. In a near sprint, his vivacity restored despite his injury and because of Kalin's kind, attentive presence all afternoon, the Prince began pulling off his clothes ere he had even entered the bathing chamber. Where he stood at the windows, Kalin turned his back upon the sight. He looked to the evening sky, giving his charge privacy though he did not leave the chambers. From the adjoining bathing room, there came sounds of splashing water. Upon the mountainside overhead, a small pool collected rainwater; from this pool ran a wrought pipe into the bathing room's ceiling and down to the inset tub of the floor. Not bothering with an actual bath, Legolas merely stood under the pipe to wash himself; as he temporarily stopped the flow from the pipe to soap his hair, the young Silvan began to sing.
Distractedly, Kalin rubbed at his eyes, where moisture from unshed tears collected behind his closed lids. The song his Prince sang was one Kalin had heard countless times before, as it was a song the Queen once sang to her very young Elfling when trying to hush his infantile crying. The memory of the adoring, doting, and beautiful Queen with her much loved, innocent, and pure child incited within Kalin a rush of heady emotions, and he found himself weeping from the profundity of his love for his Queen and Prince. At least once a day, Kalin reaffirmed his pledge to the Queen as if she could hear him where her faer healed in the Halls of Awaiting.
In a mere whisper Legolas would not hear over his splashing and singing, Kalin pledged again now as he had innumerable times before, his oath modest but utterly heartfelt, "I promise you, my Queen, I will protect the Prince at the cost of all else."
Resting his forehead against one of the cool panes of glass, the Silvan quite forgot to listen for his charge to be finished with his bathing, so caught up was he in memory.
"Kalin?" came a voice from behind him.
Whirling around, the guard wiped at his face when he suddenly realized tears trailed down his cheeks. The Prince must have been finished for several minutes, for he already wore a fresh pair of trousers, had his best doeskin boots on, and had donned a startlingly white shirt. Fortuitously, Legolas was searching his armoire for something suitable to wear and did not notice his sentry's disconsolateness or his pensiveness.
Legolas did not have much interest in expensive or ornate furnishings, decorations, or clothing, and so, while he owned many fine things, he only kept up the pretense of appreciating them for his father's sake. Holding up a long robe of a rich green fabric, which fastened up the front with clasps made to look like leaves, the young Silvan asked his sentry with a merry smile, "Do you think this one will suffice? It is the plainest one I can find without going in my bathing robe, and I doubt very much Ada will be pleased with my bathing robe."
Laughing at his Prince's mirth, Kalin thoroughly wiped at his damp face again ere he walked to the laegel. "I think it will do nicely. Let me wrap your ribs, my Prince, please," he requested of Legolas, who had already put on a shirt as if to forgo having his sentry bind his torso with linen.
From his trousers' waist, the young Silvan pulled out the rolled up linen he had removed before bathing and then lifted up his shirt. Taking the linen from Legolas' hand, Kalin silently wrapped it around the young Elf's chest. The marks upon his charge's side were darker than they had been hours earlier and would grow darker still over the next day or so; however, since the Prince was up and about and breathing fine, the guard tried not to worry. As he tucked in the end of the linen to keep it taut, Kalin suffered the unexpected sentiment of failure, for by covering up Thranduil's marks upon Legolas' pale hide, Kalin was also covering up his inability to protect his charge as he had oathed to do. And here in this room, where the Queen's presence lingered like the fading scent of a withering flower, Kalin felt for the first time a true fear for Legolas' wellbeing. He recalled Ninan's admonishment from earlier today, when his captain had said Kalin would not always be there to protect his Prince.
No, he told himself, denying the vague, disquieting feeling of dread overwhelming him. He stood back and watched Legolas pull on his chosen robe. I will always be here to protect him.
Legolas began to plait his damp hair in swift, practiced motions. Kalin was happy to note his charge had no problem in doing so; earlier, it had pained the young Silvan to lift his arm up above his head, though it did not seem to discomfort him now. Stepping away from the mirror when done, Legolas turned to Kalin to ask with faint sarcasm, "Am I dressed appropriately for my station?"
Of course, Legolas' body was of a grown Elf, but usually the Prince's innocence and drab clothing made him appear younger, naïve, and unworldly. With his beautifully crafted robe clinging tightly to the laegel's lithe form, his golden hair now braided into the intricate twists and plaits he wore when ceremony or occasion called for it, and his face set in the stoic facsimile of Thranduil's similar features, Legolas appeared the Prince he was. But it was not Legolas' appearance giving Kalin pause and making his agreement falter upon his lips; it was the younger Elf's demeanor. In this moment, Kalin saw the Elf whom his Prince would become – strong, astute, capable, but also burdened, grieved, and entirely too much like Thranduil.
When Legolas lifted a single, dark amber eyebrow in silent question of his sentry's continued reticence, Kalin finally managed to answer by saying, "Your father will be pleased."
No more soothing compliment could Kalin have made, for the King's approval was the single most important metric by which the young Prince measured his success. Giving himself a final glance in the mirror, Legolas adjusted the collar of his robe. "I suppose I should go find Faidnil. He will have fashioned a crown for me to wear tonight, lest Ada expects me to wear my awful mithril diadem again."
Kalin was not invited nor needed during this private meal, and so he would now have to part from his Prince. Ever desirous for Legolas to be reassured of how his faithful sentry was at his disposal, Kalin bowed slightly to the young Wood-Elf and told him, "I hope you enjoy yourself, my Prince. If you have need of me, for any reason, I will be in my room for the remainder of the night."
Absently, Legolas nodded, while Kalin reluctantly walked to the door to open it. Before Kalin could step outside, though, his Prince called out, causing his sentry to halt at once when he said hesitantly, "Kalin."
"Yes, my Prince?" he queried eagerly, ever ready to aid his charge.
No longer looking like the Prince he would become but the innocent and harried youngling he was now, Legolas tentatively smiled at Kalin, telling him simply, "Thank you."
His chest swelling with love for his Prince, Kalin bowed again and returned the smile, ere he walked out into the corridor. As he shut the door behind him, Kalin gave a sigh of relief. Since this morning, after being asked by the Elvenking to fetch the Prince, Kalin had felt anxious over his charge's welfare and irritated with his King, though both his anxiety and irritation were relieved. More important to Kalin was this: the melancholy his Prince had displayed this morning was now absent. Indeed, the sentry was quite sure his Prince had enjoyed himself thoroughly this day, despite having not been able to practice his bow as he had planned, despite having suffered his father's anger, and regardless of having spent the day with his sentry rather than his friends. Kalin began away to his room, his steps unhurried and easy.
Tomorrow we start again, the sentry thought with another sigh, though this one was of pleasure, for he never grew tired of the satisfaction his duties brought to him. Kalin felt he could find no truer calling than caring for his Prince – his life was forever entangled with Legolas' life, he knew. For another day, at least, Kalin could say he had done everything he could for his beloved Prince to keep Legolas happy, safe, and well.
Some Elves devoted themselves to learning all they could of medicines, of warcraft, or of lore. Some of the Eldar were taken with nature or adventure, or they were so enamored with their lover they thought of little else.
For Kalin, there was only his oath to protect his Prince. Everything else came second to this oath and would until the day he died.