Edredhel, the one who had been shot, survived with his will to live stronger than his will to fight. Now, the four remaining elves, Legolas, Tiranien, Edredhel, and Nithanien, all rode hard for the pass near the Ettenmoors.
From there, they would ride, almost in total safety, to the elven refuge of Rivendell. The orcs that overran Mirkwood never left the boundaries of the trees, so great was their fear of the open space. Silvian elves quenched their cautiousness at large, open places, and Legolas, being a Sindarin, still felt as his friends did.
Legolas glared at the elven guard who stood in their way. Could he not see that he was the one they had sent for?
"I cannot allow you into the refuge of Rivendell. So has it been commanded by the Istari, Mithrandir," The guard said, his face solidly set, "You will wait here, or return to the place from whence you came."
"Fine. We wait," Nithanien was the first off his steed. He winced when he touched the ground, for an old wound, poisoned and healing slowly, flared up in pain of renewing. Tiranien was the first to his side, and he helped his friend to the small house that the guard led them to. Edredhel followed, his arm bound tightly to his side.
Legolas cared for the horses. As he did so, he shed the cloak he wore and hung it on a peg. He kept his weapons on his back, however, for in Mirkwood, one was never found without a weapon or two at a quick and convenient disposal.
He whispered to the horses in Quenya, as that was the language that was chosen to be spoken by his family when they were alone. He removed all the saddles and brushed them down gently, all the while speaking quietly.
"Prince Legolas?" It was the guard from before. Legolas' eyes hardened again, "Mithrandir has asked for the presence of you and your friends at the home of Elrond. But first, he asks that you be cleansed."
"Cleansed?!" Legolas burst out, startling the solid warrior. With a mutter of anger and disgust, he stalked past the elf, snatching his cloak on the way.
That was pathetic, Legolas. You are allowing your childish anger to rule your mind. You are not in a war any more. Act like it, He admonished himself. If there was one thing that he would not accept, that would be the admonishment of his own mind, turning against him.
Legolas stalked past the guardhouse. He headed towards the sound of a river, hoping to wash his face and find peace. Long had he wished for a quiet time besides an unspoiled river, but there were none in his home forest.
The water was fresh and cool as he splashed his face. For once, he noticed the severe contrast of his hair and skin against what he had looked like so long ago. All his hair was pulled back now, in a fastening of leather. A dirt smudge marred his forehead.
Cleansing, humph.
Edredhel was the first to see the elven prince return to the guardhouse. They all had agreed to the cleansing, and had received their mended and cleaned clothes. The elf, whose back was almost totally healed, stood at the top of the steps, almost in shock.
Legolas stood before him, his hair down and braided as it had been so long ago. The traveler's robe he wore was one that had not been seen for nigh on sixty years.
"Edredhel, is your jaw stuck open or is there an elven woman standing behind me?" Legolas' eyes twinkled as they had not for so many years, "Come, tell the guard that all have been cleansed, and we seek entrance to the home of Elrond."
"Aye, my prince," A few seconds after the elf had disappeared back into the small home, the guard, plus the Elves of Mirkwood, emerged into the afternoon sunlight. The guard smiled, almost unnoticeably.
Legolas found all their horses, together with the guard's, already saddled and ready to fly. The guard had known of his response before. These Rivendell elves were not to be taken lightly…
As they galloped quickly, Legolas' eyes surveyed the unspoiled beauty of Rivendell. He felt dirty and uncouth compared the beauty that lay before him, and his companions felt the same, for they all averted their eyes slightly, the same as he.
But when they rode into the courtyard of the House of Elrond, Legolas looked up, so as to see the beauty that had stood for so much longer than a human could imagine. As he surveyed the wonders of Imladris, Tiranien took the reigns from his hands, allowing him to begin up the stairs to the Lord Elrond's reception chamber.
"Ah, Legolas, son of my friend, Thranduil," Elrond stood by a balcony that overlooked the courtyard, "Your arrival was not delayed by the Istari's request?"
"Only my dignity was left at the gate," Legolas admitted. He was not going to be subjected by a king of a refuge ignorant to the horrors he had seen, but he would respect him as a child would an elder.
"It was necessary, for we know not if your body and heart are clean of the evils that prevail in the deeps of Mirkwood," Elrond turned to face him, "I know that you are still young, but experienced in the way of survival. Your father assures me that this is so."
"I fail to see the relevance to summoning me, of all elves, to a Council."
"You are a being who knows the minds of orcs, and the way they think," Elrond looked at the clothing that he wore, still whole, but stained darkly in a few places, "Your clothing will be given unto you once you have had a chance to rest."
"My clothing?" Legolas looked down and saw nothing out of place. He had been wearing these clothes for near sixty years. They would serve him well for another forty.
"I am afraid that you cannot be presented to the council wearing such clothing," The elven lord rested his hand on the prince's shoulder, "If you intend to leave the war in Mirkwood behind, for the time being, and become a part of the world, you must strive to become a civilized elf once again."
Legolas pulled away as if stung. Had he been fighting and surviving for so long, just to forget his heritage? He was an elf, of course he was going to dress and act as one. But being chastised for things he could not change at that time…
"I will send a servant to take you to your chambers. Your friends are already being attended to," Elrond turned back to the balcony. Legolas left the room and was immediately taken by a woman elf to a good sized chamber.
Once alone, he went to the balcony. The beauty of this place…it reminded him of what Mirkwood once was. The elven prince sank to his knees and wept.
"This elf you spoke of," Aragorn, son of Arathorn, spoke quietly to Gandalf, the Istari, as they stood in the corner of a rather good sized reception chamber, "He had been encompassed by evil for almost sixty years. How can we trust that his mind has been untainted?"
"We cannot know until our eyes have seen him and our hearts have sensed him," Gandalf smiled, "If he is evil, we will feel it flow from him. However, if he is still solid in his heritage, he would be a great warrior to have by our side."
Elrond, who was standing almost nervously at the edge of the balcony, turned, "His mind is in a mindset of war and death. I have heard the tale of what he sacrificed to come here at this time."
"What was sacrificed, Lord Elrond?" Aragorn inquired, coming out of the shadows to sit in the sunlight.
"His advisor and his companion Tiranien's betrothed were both killed ere they came," He closed his eyes, "Both women, and both struck down by a dishonorable trick. Their deaths were swift, from what has been told, but the result was gruesome."
A servant carefully opened the door, "My lord, Prince Legolas is here, at your command."
"Send them in," Elrond, Gandalf, and Aragorn stood straight, with the sunlight streaming in, as they waited for their first glimpse of this famed elven prince.
He was not what they expected. Over his Sindarin style traveling clothes, which were obviously not what he had fought so long in, he wore a long-vest, a kind of robe. The moss green of the fabrics set off the strange radiance of his hair and eyes.
The long-vest barely brushed the floor as he stepped into the room. The servant closed the door behind him. When the handle latched, he looked back, as if unaccustomed to the sound.
"Prince Legolas, you are well?" Elrond inquired.
"As well as can be expected," He responded truthfully.
"This is Gandalf, also known as Mithrandir, the Istari," The dark haired elven lord gestured to the old wizard, who smiled. The blank, but respectful look on Legolas' face changed not as he bowed in reverence.
"And Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to the throne of Gondor and descendant of Isildur," Elrond watched closely the expression of Legolas.
The elven prince's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of the name, but he said nothing. A simple bow ended the moment of discomfort.
"You sent for me, Lord Elrond?" He said quietly.
"Yes, for two reasons," The dark haired elf motioned for them all to sit, "As you have no doubt been told, Isildur's Bane has been found."
"I am aware of this, yes," Legolas sat tentatively, his back straight.
"Then you also know that it must be destroyed," At Legolas' nod, he continued, "You are the youngest of us who has great battle experience. You know the minds of evil, and you have held it back for sixty years with naught but a handful of warriors."
"And you want my companions and I to accompany the Ringbearer," Legolas finished for him, in a quiet way.
"If you would be willing, yes," Elrond's eyes narrowed, "But the Dwarves have also insisted on send a representative. Gimli, son of Gloin, is to join this Company as well."
Legolas chuckled slightly, "Orcs, I can handle with ease. But a mission on the same side of the conflict as a Dwarf? You ask much, Lord Elrond, for my father is the Elf-King who imprisoned his father so long ago."
"Did you not also fight side-by-side in the Battle of the Five Armies?" Aragorn interrupted. Legolas' face went dark.
"Yes, we fought, but I was not one to drop my weapon to protect him," The elf shot back.
"Peace," Gandalf slammed his staff into the floor, "You fight as if children."
"The second reason, Lord Elrond?" Legolas glared daggers at Aragorn, who glared back.
"The second reason is, that Mirkwood is lost and there is no reason for you to die in a useless struggle," Legolas' eyes widened, but, when he tried to stand up in indignity, Gandalf's staff at his chest kept him in his seat, "You father agrees with me, young elf. He does not wish to see his son die in a corrupt place."
"But it is my home!" Legolas batted Gandalf's staff away, "Mithrandir! You, of all people, must understand! I cannot just leave my home to ruin!"
Gandalf retracted his staff and leaned against it. His face was painted with uncertainty.
"It is already ruin, my dear friend," Gandalf said, "You will not abandon it, no, but every second the One Ring is still whole, the forces of Dol Guldur and Sauron grow stronger. The only way you can save your home now is to help us destroy the Ring."
"Then go, I will, and my friends will accompany me," Legolas stood, "You have my bow to use as your own, Mithrandir. If it is the will of the Council, the last of the Tawar-Maethor will see it done."
"I am not the one you must swear allegiance to, dear Legolas," Gandalf stood, and Aragorn with him, "Let us go and introduce you to whom you will be traveling with and to whom you must swear to protect."
Elrond smiled after they left. He knew now that Legolas still held a civilized and solid mind. He would not fail them, for his soul was too strong.