"It is a lovely day today," said Legolas. "The air is crisp and warm, the birds sing their sweet songs and the boughs of the trees dance in the wind. Quite a nice day, in fact, to practice a bit of archery."
Ithildin sat by him in front of a tiny stream. "Does the weather affect your practices?" she inquired.
Legolas laughed. "No, but in the clear light of day, a target is much easier to find."
"Well," said Ithildin, "You may fire your sticks as long as you want. I am off to do something more productive."
Legolas caught her hand as she stood up. His expression was both comical and serious. "You mean, you have not learned the skill of archery?" he asked.
"I have had no use for it," was her reply.
"Come," said Legolas, "I will teach it to you then."
He led her away from the stream, into a small opening in the forest. On a branch about a foot above her head in a tree some thirty feet away, he placed a small chunk of wood. It stood on the branch directly in front of the trunk of the tree. Then, he picked up his own bow and an arrow from his quiver that he had left by her side. He gave her the bow and she looked at it in wonder.
Legolas stood by her side and showed her how to hold the bow properly. When that was done, he gave her the arrow. All the while, he spoke softly into her ear and instructed her on how to fire properly. "Don't be afraid that you will miss the target. There are two trees behind the one before you that will catch your arrow if you should miss. Of course, that is provided that you are not too off target!" he teased.
Ithildin threw him a look of mock contempt and then, without another word, shot the arrow. It pierced the wood dead center. Then, quick as lightning, she retrieved two more arrows from his quiver and shot them at the same time. One pierced the wood in the center at the top, the other, at the bottom center. All three were in perfect alignment. Legolas stared at her in amazement. "I thought you did not know about archery," he asked, stunned.
She grinned. "I said I had no use for it…I did not say I was not learned of the skill."
It was a fine trick she played on him and he knew it. With a laugh he took her hand and together they raced back to the stream. When they were once again at the rock they had sat upon, he regarded her seriously. "What else is there about you that I do not know?" he asked.
"That depends," she replied, "On what it is you wish to know."
He took her hand and his bright eyes deepened. The air about them changed; things grew soft and quiet. A gentle spell of peace wound its way between them and Ithildin's soul was touched. Legolas looked at her in the soft afternoon light and knew that he would never look upon one so fair and beautiful again. "If I could," he said softly, "I would look into your very soul and know all that makes you happy."
And with that, Ithildin's heart overflowed. She told him of Saruman and Isengard; of the wargs; of her loss of Landalë, her only companion; of her desperate and unsuccessful search to find a home that she might grow to love and of the strange force that grew within her that she seemed to have no control over. All this she poured out to Legolas her friend and he listened patiently and did not interrupt. When at length she finished, he took her into his arms and held her until her tears subsided and she lay against his shoulder, content.
"I do not promise to understand all that you have told me," he said quietly. "But I will fight by your side against all the evil in this world until I can fight no more. You need not fear the dark so long as I am here to hold a light."
"I know," she whispered. "I would not leave your side if the very shadow of the East threatened to tear us apart. But now, the day grows old and we should return. My heart tells me that something is brewing and I do not wish to be away from your father or your people."
Legolas heeded her words, for often, she spoke of things that were true. They walked back to the palace and for many days nothing happened. One day, Thranduil watched them leave the palace and in his face was an expression of sorrow. Iorkann noted this and asked him what the matter was. Thranduil turned to him and smiled sadly. "I have had my son for longer than I could imagine and he has been nothing but a joy and a blessing to me. I knew one day that I would have to let him go. Yet, knowing this has not softened the blow to my heart. He is not mine any longer, Iorkann. He belongs to Ithildin, and she to him. Already I miss him."
And Iorkann saw something that he had not seen before and would never see again: A tear slid down Thranduil's fair face.