At first, they kept their promise. The exchanged numerous letters those
first few months, some long, filled with even the most mundane details,
others short, saying just a simple hi.
But, after a while, the letters stopped coming so often. It wasn't that their friendship for each other lessened, exactly; they were just busy with their own lives.
Eventually, the letters stopped coming altogether. And for several centuries, Legolas Greenleaf and Elora Mossflower heard nothing of each other.
THWACK!!
THWACK!!
THWACK!!
These were the only sounds piercing the otherwise still summer afternoon. Legolas was practicing his archery, as usual. He came everyday to this same spot in the woods, the place where he and Elora had spent countless hours. Sometimes, if he listened hard enough, he could still hear her soft laughter ringing through the trees.
THWACK!!
THWACK!!
He had progressed quickly with his archery once his growth spurt hit. He was known as the best archer in Mirkwood, perhaps one of the best in all Middle Earth. He rarely missed his target now.
THWACK!!
He was reaching for another arrow when he spotted something through the trees. A splash of red against the greens and browns of the forest. He squinted, looking harder. His sensitive ears picked up the faint clomping of a horse's footsteps, but he saw no one. "Concentrate, Greenleaf," he muttered to himself, chalking up the sight to an over-active imagination. He continued with his archery practice until his quiver was spent and his arms faintly ached. He gathered his arrows and then walked home.
The rider smiled as she entered Mirkwood. It had been a long time since she had been home. Too long. She couldn't wait to surprise her family, who all thought she would not be arriving til the next day. There was someone else she hoped to see as well, although she doubted he even remembered her now. So many years had passed.
A cry in the woods broke her out of her reverie. It was faint, as if the voice had been in great pain for a while and was now tired from crying. She dismounted, whispering for her horse to stay still. Slowly she walked towards the sound.
The owner of the voice was a small child with shoulder-length blonde hair. He reminded her so someone she knew once, long ago. He was cradling one arm to his chest.
"Are you alright?" she asked tenderly.
The crying stopped as the child looked up at her. "It hurts."
"I know." The rider knelt down. "Can I see it? I'm a healer; I promise I won't hurt you."
Reluctantly the boy allowed her to touch his arm. She could immediately tell it was broken and began to apply her training to lessen the pain.
"What happened?"
"I was climbing the tree and fell."
"Hmm. What's your name?"
"Fralir."
"Well, Master Fralir," said the rider, picking him up. "You have a broken arm, but nothing I can't fix. Where do you live?"
"In the palace."
She suddenly remembered why he looked so familiar. "Fralir Greenleaf?"
"Yes."
She smiled. "Come, young prince. Let's go home."
They were quickly ushered into the palace, where guards carried Fralir to his room. The rider followed silently. Legolas arrived just in time to see her dart in; all he saw was a flash of red.
"Father!" he called. "Father, what happened?"
King Thranduil turned to his son. "Your brother fell out of a tree and got himself a broken arm."
"Will he be alright?"
"Oh, yes. A healer found him; she's in there right now setting the bone."
After a few more moments they were allowed to enter the room. Legolas gasped.
Her hair wasn't stark red anymore; time had subdued the color to a dark auburn. She hadn't grown much height wise, but she had filled out. No longer a gawky adolescent, the person he saw was fully a woman. Her demeanor was calm now, collected. But despite these changes, Legolas recognized her immediately.
"Elora!" he cried, attacking her with a warm hug.
Elora gracefully returned it. "Hello, Legolas."
He released her, staring into her eyes. "You're home!"
She smiled gently. "I am home."
But, after a while, the letters stopped coming so often. It wasn't that their friendship for each other lessened, exactly; they were just busy with their own lives.
Eventually, the letters stopped coming altogether. And for several centuries, Legolas Greenleaf and Elora Mossflower heard nothing of each other.
THWACK!!
THWACK!!
THWACK!!
These were the only sounds piercing the otherwise still summer afternoon. Legolas was practicing his archery, as usual. He came everyday to this same spot in the woods, the place where he and Elora had spent countless hours. Sometimes, if he listened hard enough, he could still hear her soft laughter ringing through the trees.
THWACK!!
THWACK!!
He had progressed quickly with his archery once his growth spurt hit. He was known as the best archer in Mirkwood, perhaps one of the best in all Middle Earth. He rarely missed his target now.
THWACK!!
He was reaching for another arrow when he spotted something through the trees. A splash of red against the greens and browns of the forest. He squinted, looking harder. His sensitive ears picked up the faint clomping of a horse's footsteps, but he saw no one. "Concentrate, Greenleaf," he muttered to himself, chalking up the sight to an over-active imagination. He continued with his archery practice until his quiver was spent and his arms faintly ached. He gathered his arrows and then walked home.
The rider smiled as she entered Mirkwood. It had been a long time since she had been home. Too long. She couldn't wait to surprise her family, who all thought she would not be arriving til the next day. There was someone else she hoped to see as well, although she doubted he even remembered her now. So many years had passed.
A cry in the woods broke her out of her reverie. It was faint, as if the voice had been in great pain for a while and was now tired from crying. She dismounted, whispering for her horse to stay still. Slowly she walked towards the sound.
The owner of the voice was a small child with shoulder-length blonde hair. He reminded her so someone she knew once, long ago. He was cradling one arm to his chest.
"Are you alright?" she asked tenderly.
The crying stopped as the child looked up at her. "It hurts."
"I know." The rider knelt down. "Can I see it? I'm a healer; I promise I won't hurt you."
Reluctantly the boy allowed her to touch his arm. She could immediately tell it was broken and began to apply her training to lessen the pain.
"What happened?"
"I was climbing the tree and fell."
"Hmm. What's your name?"
"Fralir."
"Well, Master Fralir," said the rider, picking him up. "You have a broken arm, but nothing I can't fix. Where do you live?"
"In the palace."
She suddenly remembered why he looked so familiar. "Fralir Greenleaf?"
"Yes."
She smiled. "Come, young prince. Let's go home."
They were quickly ushered into the palace, where guards carried Fralir to his room. The rider followed silently. Legolas arrived just in time to see her dart in; all he saw was a flash of red.
"Father!" he called. "Father, what happened?"
King Thranduil turned to his son. "Your brother fell out of a tree and got himself a broken arm."
"Will he be alright?"
"Oh, yes. A healer found him; she's in there right now setting the bone."
After a few more moments they were allowed to enter the room. Legolas gasped.
Her hair wasn't stark red anymore; time had subdued the color to a dark auburn. She hadn't grown much height wise, but she had filled out. No longer a gawky adolescent, the person he saw was fully a woman. Her demeanor was calm now, collected. But despite these changes, Legolas recognized her immediately.
"Elora!" he cried, attacking her with a warm hug.
Elora gracefully returned it. "Hello, Legolas."
He released her, staring into her eyes. "You're home!"
She smiled gently. "I am home."