Chapter 2
A/N: I don't know how old Legolas is really, but I'm making him 2701 which I believe is somewhere within the range. Don't flame me for getting it wrong, there is really no strong evidence in the book or in the movie. So leave me be.
******
One year passed, then another, and ten year old Lashriel outgrew the tiny hobbit home. Her uncle Frodo was still away, and he seemed to have taken a piece of her with him. She rarely spoke at all, constantly looking out the parlor window towards the road.
Sam, Merry, and even Pippin were very worried for her. Years rolled away, and she continued to grow in height. The other hobbit children had already reached their adult height, and yet still she grew. Her height became the joke of many of the Shire-children, and she was taunted mercilessly. Not a day rolled past, where she did not come home, and sit beside the window, too proud to cry, but too young to let any insult slide.Her sullenness became habitual, and soon the happy laughing child in her had all but completely disappeared.
A total five years past since Frodo's departure, though Lashriel felt little of it go by (being an elf has that effect on her). And then the complete decade... before she knew it, she was blooming into a young woman. Still her uncle did not return. And neither did Gandalf.Her other uncles visited her constantly, but it was Sam who finally decided, enough was enough.
" Lashriel, come here."
Lashriel walked to her uncle, whom she now dwarfed by more than a few feet. He looked up at his niece, whom he'd watched grow up for all twenty years of her life.
" Lashriel, I think it's time you went in search of your Uncle Frodo."
" I have faith that he'll return. There is no need to worry."
" Lashriel, be serious. Even when your uncles and I went in quest for Mordor, it didn't take fifteen odd years to do it. I believe that Frodo is in serious danger. And Gandalf as well. You need to leave and find them."
Lashriel paused for a moment, the ingrained love for the Shire ripping holes in her heart.
" But, I do not wish to leave the Shire. It is the only home I know..."
" I know. And it will always be that. But, I have the instinct that it's time you set out to explore the world."
******
She left the very next morning. Many of the hobbits shook their heads.
" Definitely got the Baggins' blood in her. Glad, our children aren't such itchy-feet."
The winding road through Hobbiton took her past many homes, and as she passed, she waved to some of the children she'd met along the way. Few of them waved back. As she left, her heart broke as final words followed her.
" Finally, the ugly duckling was leaving..."
******
Her travels took her past the Shire, and into the forests. Her uncle Samgee had given her a crude map of the region, showing the way to Rivendell. She followed it until she came to the little town of Bree. She smiled and shivered, as she remembered stories of how uncle Frodo had hidden with Strider from the Ringwraiths that stalked him.
The sun had just reached the quarter-mark, and she walked the streets carefully, watching all the big-folk walk by. She was exceptionally puzzled by how everyone seemed as tall as she was. They watched her with an unfriendly eye, but she didn't take any notice. As she rounded a corner, a sign swinging in the morning breeze caught her eye. A wooden horse, with the rough words "Prancing Pony" emblazoned beneath it.
She hurried towards it, and though she'd lived with the hobbits for many years, her walk was as graceful and silent as any elf. A great many heads turned her way as she opened the door, but turned back as something in their midst glared them all back to their own business. A pair of blue eyes watched her from a table in the corner.
" Excuse me," She looked at the innkeeper.
" Ah, hello, Miss." He looked completely surprised," Well, this IS indeed a surprise. Didn't think your folk came out here quite so often."
Lashriel still thought of herself as one of the hobbit family, and quirked her head.
" Really? But, four of my relatives have visited your inn, within these last twenty years, do you not know them?"
" Well, miss, even in twenty years, I think I would know if four elves had walked into my inn, and I can safely say I've not seen hide or hair of one since you..."
" Oh, but sir, you are mistaken. I'm not of the Elves, I'm-"
Suddenly, Lashriel reeled to the floor, as a brawl worked it's way towards her, shoving her roughly aside. Both men were armed with daggers, and their hands snaked at each other. Caught between them, but both blind to her, she struggled away from it. A strong callused hand reached out and pulled her away from the tumble. It pulled her up the stairs, and towards a room, where she was lead inside, and the door closed behind her.
" Who are you?" She murmured fearfully.
" Lower your voice." The response was soft, reassuring, and the hood was pushed away to reveal...an elf?
For once, she actually felt small; he was taller than her by quite a bit, she came only up to his shoulder. He looked out the door suspiciously.
" I'm sorry." She apologized quietly.
The elf turned back around, and bowed, revealing a quiver of arrows hidden just beneath his hood. His eyes widened a moment, and she winced under his measuring gaze, wishing that she wasn't quite so tall..but, it wasn't her height he'd noticed...
" Forgive me, lady." He smiled," My name is Legolas Greenleaf of the Elves. I believe your 'uncle' wrote me to meet you here."
" But, how could he..."
Lashriel stopped, a disbelieving grin. He'd been planning her departure for several months. Of course...
" I see. So my entire family has been conspiring to get me to come."
" Your uncle has been gone a very long time, Lashriel." Legolas confessed," And they tell me you've not smiled a day since he's left."
Lashriel didn't respond, her thoughts were far away.
" Would you wish to stay..."
" How, is it you know so much of me, Legolas of the Elves?"
" I've been keeping in touch." He said vaguely," After I brought you to them..."
" Impossible! You brought me?"
" Well, yes, in a sense. I transferred you to Gandalf, here in fact."
" That's utterly impossible...you'd have to be nearly..."
" I am," Legolas stood up rather insulted," 2701, milady."
Lashriel blinked. Legolas did his best not to express some exasperation. Her view of time was still mortal.
" You don't look a day over 21," She whispered softly.
" In all other sense, I am not." He murmured." And when you reach my age, you'll look as you did today, and even though I'll have gained another 2701 years of experience, I will still look as I do."
" You may never die..." Her face darkened." But, I will. I will grow old, I will grow feeble, and when this body is too withered to sustain my soul,I will die. It is the way of things. There is no change."
" Elves do not wither."
" I am not an Elf."
Legolas winced. He knew about the daily torment Lashriel suffered, her uncle had not spared a detail of how urgent it was to relieve her of the suffering. But, it seemed, she was even worse than he thought - to deny her heritage.
" We will see." He said stormily.
~
They decided not to stay, but continued their trek across the country towards Rivendell. Legolas couldn't help, but notice, that though she thought much the way a hobbit would, she was nothing like them. Hobbits took very small, rather scurrying steps. Hers were shorter than a normal elf's, but no less graceful. She had this way of hunching her shoulders beneath her cloak, though, that seemed to be her pathetic attempt at shrinking.
Finally, after some time, he stopped, and stood behind her, squaring her shoulders with his hands.
" Please don't slouch so, Lashriel," He scolded," You have a very beautiful composure..."
" I apologize, Mr. Greenleaf."
Legolas shook his head.
" I know I said I was 2701, but please, DON'T call me that. Just Legolas. You're not in Hobbiton anymore, Lashriel. Out here, it is quite, in fact more, appropriate just to call people by their first name."
" I see."
She tugged her hood back.
" Why do you do that?" He asked suddenly.
" What?"
" Pull your hood like so?"
" ..."
For one frightening moment, Legolas thought that perhaps the torment had been more than verbal. He carefully tugged the hood free. Nothing. She had beautiful ears, tapering back as they should, and the customary pale blond hair of the elves. There was a slight hint of abuse. A short scar, right below her right ear, but it was easily hidden by her hair.
" Lashriel. I'm sorry if I sound harsh. But, you must understand. You can not deny your heritage. You are of the Elves. You must learn to act like one."
" I am not an elf. I am Lashriel Baggins. I'm here, to rescue my uncle, not to discover why I was left to his care," She said quietly," I am myself. Never hobbit, never elf. When this is all finished, I intend to return to the Shire, and live a normal..."
" Long life."
" SHORT life." Lashriel said, then more softly," Even if I must end it myself."
A/N: I don't know how old Legolas is really, but I'm making him 2701 which I believe is somewhere within the range. Don't flame me for getting it wrong, there is really no strong evidence in the book or in the movie. So leave me be.
******
One year passed, then another, and ten year old Lashriel outgrew the tiny hobbit home. Her uncle Frodo was still away, and he seemed to have taken a piece of her with him. She rarely spoke at all, constantly looking out the parlor window towards the road.
Sam, Merry, and even Pippin were very worried for her. Years rolled away, and she continued to grow in height. The other hobbit children had already reached their adult height, and yet still she grew. Her height became the joke of many of the Shire-children, and she was taunted mercilessly. Not a day rolled past, where she did not come home, and sit beside the window, too proud to cry, but too young to let any insult slide.Her sullenness became habitual, and soon the happy laughing child in her had all but completely disappeared.
A total five years past since Frodo's departure, though Lashriel felt little of it go by (being an elf has that effect on her). And then the complete decade... before she knew it, she was blooming into a young woman. Still her uncle did not return. And neither did Gandalf.Her other uncles visited her constantly, but it was Sam who finally decided, enough was enough.
" Lashriel, come here."
Lashriel walked to her uncle, whom she now dwarfed by more than a few feet. He looked up at his niece, whom he'd watched grow up for all twenty years of her life.
" Lashriel, I think it's time you went in search of your Uncle Frodo."
" I have faith that he'll return. There is no need to worry."
" Lashriel, be serious. Even when your uncles and I went in quest for Mordor, it didn't take fifteen odd years to do it. I believe that Frodo is in serious danger. And Gandalf as well. You need to leave and find them."
Lashriel paused for a moment, the ingrained love for the Shire ripping holes in her heart.
" But, I do not wish to leave the Shire. It is the only home I know..."
" I know. And it will always be that. But, I have the instinct that it's time you set out to explore the world."
******
She left the very next morning. Many of the hobbits shook their heads.
" Definitely got the Baggins' blood in her. Glad, our children aren't such itchy-feet."
The winding road through Hobbiton took her past many homes, and as she passed, she waved to some of the children she'd met along the way. Few of them waved back. As she left, her heart broke as final words followed her.
" Finally, the ugly duckling was leaving..."
******
Her travels took her past the Shire, and into the forests. Her uncle Samgee had given her a crude map of the region, showing the way to Rivendell. She followed it until she came to the little town of Bree. She smiled and shivered, as she remembered stories of how uncle Frodo had hidden with Strider from the Ringwraiths that stalked him.
The sun had just reached the quarter-mark, and she walked the streets carefully, watching all the big-folk walk by. She was exceptionally puzzled by how everyone seemed as tall as she was. They watched her with an unfriendly eye, but she didn't take any notice. As she rounded a corner, a sign swinging in the morning breeze caught her eye. A wooden horse, with the rough words "Prancing Pony" emblazoned beneath it.
She hurried towards it, and though she'd lived with the hobbits for many years, her walk was as graceful and silent as any elf. A great many heads turned her way as she opened the door, but turned back as something in their midst glared them all back to their own business. A pair of blue eyes watched her from a table in the corner.
" Excuse me," She looked at the innkeeper.
" Ah, hello, Miss." He looked completely surprised," Well, this IS indeed a surprise. Didn't think your folk came out here quite so often."
Lashriel still thought of herself as one of the hobbit family, and quirked her head.
" Really? But, four of my relatives have visited your inn, within these last twenty years, do you not know them?"
" Well, miss, even in twenty years, I think I would know if four elves had walked into my inn, and I can safely say I've not seen hide or hair of one since you..."
" Oh, but sir, you are mistaken. I'm not of the Elves, I'm-"
Suddenly, Lashriel reeled to the floor, as a brawl worked it's way towards her, shoving her roughly aside. Both men were armed with daggers, and their hands snaked at each other. Caught between them, but both blind to her, she struggled away from it. A strong callused hand reached out and pulled her away from the tumble. It pulled her up the stairs, and towards a room, where she was lead inside, and the door closed behind her.
" Who are you?" She murmured fearfully.
" Lower your voice." The response was soft, reassuring, and the hood was pushed away to reveal...an elf?
For once, she actually felt small; he was taller than her by quite a bit, she came only up to his shoulder. He looked out the door suspiciously.
" I'm sorry." She apologized quietly.
The elf turned back around, and bowed, revealing a quiver of arrows hidden just beneath his hood. His eyes widened a moment, and she winced under his measuring gaze, wishing that she wasn't quite so tall..but, it wasn't her height he'd noticed...
" Forgive me, lady." He smiled," My name is Legolas Greenleaf of the Elves. I believe your 'uncle' wrote me to meet you here."
" But, how could he..."
Lashriel stopped, a disbelieving grin. He'd been planning her departure for several months. Of course...
" I see. So my entire family has been conspiring to get me to come."
" Your uncle has been gone a very long time, Lashriel." Legolas confessed," And they tell me you've not smiled a day since he's left."
Lashriel didn't respond, her thoughts were far away.
" Would you wish to stay..."
" How, is it you know so much of me, Legolas of the Elves?"
" I've been keeping in touch." He said vaguely," After I brought you to them..."
" Impossible! You brought me?"
" Well, yes, in a sense. I transferred you to Gandalf, here in fact."
" That's utterly impossible...you'd have to be nearly..."
" I am," Legolas stood up rather insulted," 2701, milady."
Lashriel blinked. Legolas did his best not to express some exasperation. Her view of time was still mortal.
" You don't look a day over 21," She whispered softly.
" In all other sense, I am not." He murmured." And when you reach my age, you'll look as you did today, and even though I'll have gained another 2701 years of experience, I will still look as I do."
" You may never die..." Her face darkened." But, I will. I will grow old, I will grow feeble, and when this body is too withered to sustain my soul,I will die. It is the way of things. There is no change."
" Elves do not wither."
" I am not an Elf."
Legolas winced. He knew about the daily torment Lashriel suffered, her uncle had not spared a detail of how urgent it was to relieve her of the suffering. But, it seemed, she was even worse than he thought - to deny her heritage.
" We will see." He said stormily.
~
They decided not to stay, but continued their trek across the country towards Rivendell. Legolas couldn't help, but notice, that though she thought much the way a hobbit would, she was nothing like them. Hobbits took very small, rather scurrying steps. Hers were shorter than a normal elf's, but no less graceful. She had this way of hunching her shoulders beneath her cloak, though, that seemed to be her pathetic attempt at shrinking.
Finally, after some time, he stopped, and stood behind her, squaring her shoulders with his hands.
" Please don't slouch so, Lashriel," He scolded," You have a very beautiful composure..."
" I apologize, Mr. Greenleaf."
Legolas shook his head.
" I know I said I was 2701, but please, DON'T call me that. Just Legolas. You're not in Hobbiton anymore, Lashriel. Out here, it is quite, in fact more, appropriate just to call people by their first name."
" I see."
She tugged her hood back.
" Why do you do that?" He asked suddenly.
" What?"
" Pull your hood like so?"
" ..."
For one frightening moment, Legolas thought that perhaps the torment had been more than verbal. He carefully tugged the hood free. Nothing. She had beautiful ears, tapering back as they should, and the customary pale blond hair of the elves. There was a slight hint of abuse. A short scar, right below her right ear, but it was easily hidden by her hair.
" Lashriel. I'm sorry if I sound harsh. But, you must understand. You can not deny your heritage. You are of the Elves. You must learn to act like one."
" I am not an elf. I am Lashriel Baggins. I'm here, to rescue my uncle, not to discover why I was left to his care," She said quietly," I am myself. Never hobbit, never elf. When this is all finished, I intend to return to the Shire, and live a normal..."
" Long life."
" SHORT life." Lashriel said, then more softly," Even if I must end it myself."