Author's Notes:
FFN is weird. does anyone know how to make italics and "etc periods" show up? I tried html, but that didn't work. What the hay-diddly!?! Argh, how frustrating. I need italics and periods! YAAAAGGHH - ahem, sorry. Anyways, if anyone knows about that, fill me in please! Oh yeah, since we're on the subject, how do you center things and bold things and make some text bigger than others? Aiiyaaaaa!
I'm writing another story as I finish up this one, so stay tuned for more info bout that! Hopefully, it'll be more interesting than this one. Heh heh heh heh.
Ok, enough from me. Read on, oh, LotT adventurers!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter 4: Legolas' Choice
A soft kock on the chamber doors snapped Aragorn from his reverie. He cleared his throat. "Come in."
Two guards appeared looking rather nervous. Before Aragorn could inquire about what they wanted, one guard pushed in a third person. The King of Gondor raised one eyebrow. Standing before him was a middle-aged man that had obviously been traveling for many days. His weather-beaten face and light brown hair were streaked with dirt, and his clothes were ripped and frayed in some places. He carried no weapons, only the light of knowledge in his eyes that spoke of some ominous foreboding. The man dropped to his knows before his king and bowed his head. "My Lord, permission to speak."
Taking full note of the man, Aragorn nodded curiously, "Permission granted."
"My name is Maryich of the House Ragan. I come from the village of Hadborough, twenty-five leagues west of here. I was out scouting with a raiding party of five others. We were camping on the third day when we were ambushed by a small party of Uruk-hai."
Uruk-hai. That word certainly caught Aragorn's attention,
The man continued, "We were downwind of them, so we had no warning of them. Three of my companions were killed and another injured. Knowing we could not hold against them, the remaining three of us fled into the forests. We were surprised when we were not followed. Apparently, the Uruk-hai had been looking only for a food source to last them a short while.
Aragorn frowned. ~Those must be the same creatures who march against Gondor~ The man's next words confirmed that.
"Later that night, we decided to track the main body, to see what they were up to. We crouched behind a knoll for hours, spying on them. We overheard conversations about breaking down Gondor's walls. We assumed they were planning to attack your city, though we thought that odd because we only saw a hundred of them or so, hardly enough to even be considered dangerous to a kingdom such as Gondor. Then -" he shivered in spite of himself, "Then we heard horns blowing, from far ahead of us. Curious and confused, we climbed the hill and there they were. Thousands of them, bedding down for the night. Their campfires looked like stars in the sky, so many of them there were. We left that moment - I send my two companions back to Hadborough and I journeyed here to warn you." With those words said, he bowed his head and took a step back respectively.
Aragorn's eyes narrowed in thought. He met the man's eyes. "How long ago was this? -that you saw them, I mean."
"Two and a half weeks ago, my Lord."
"Aragorn's eyes widened. Two and a half weeks! "Are you saying more than a thousand Uruk-hai will be knocking at Gondor's gates in two and half week's time? Come, man, speak!"
"No! Well, at least, I doubt it. I took a more secret route to get here. It takes much shorter a time for one man to get here using secret pathways than for an entire army who uses the long way."
Aragorn breathed a sigh of relief. He loosened his fists, which he just noticed had tightened while the man was talking. He still had some time. He stepped forward and grasped the man's shoulder. "Well down, Maryich, I thank you. Go, get something to eat - my guards will show you a room to stay for the night. In the morning, I will provide you with a horse. Hurry home - you will not want to be here in a few weeks."
After Maryich left, Aragorn sat staring out his window for several minutes. ~More than a thousand of them - Gondor is destroyed at last then?~
He tamped down the bitter bite of helplessness that was steadily rising in him. Several dozen men in the courtyards below caught his attention; they were training for the upcoming battle. Despite all the odds stacked against him, he smiled with pride. His men were working and training day and night, their spirits never slackened. They had faith in their King - more faith than Aragorn had in himself.
Suddenly feeling guilty for the fact that he had been brooding in his rooms for two days, he grabbed his sword and strapped it around his waste. He threw open his doors, bounded down the stairs, and jogged into the courtyard. Once his men saw him, they stopped immediately and dropped to their knees. Half way down, Aragorn stopped them and waved, bidding them continue.
He watched them for a long time, offering encouragement and advice when he felt it was needed. ~These men show more courage than I've ever had~ To his surprise, since the first time since Legolas left, he felt hope.
Aragorn gave one last tip to a pair of sparring partners and turned, making his way to a more secluded area. His hands closed on the pommel of his sword. The blade flew from its sheath and whirled in the air as the weapon took on a life of its own. Aragorn didn't know how long he trained - he hardly knew what he was doing. His battle instincts were at work here and he had no control over his own body, it seemed.
Finally, Anduril slowed and stopped. Aragorn sheathed the ancient blade before pulling out the bow that was strapped to his back. He picked a target on a distant oak and strung his bow. He shot arrow after arrow, never once missing his intended target. A voice startled him out of his intense concentration.
"You are a skillfull bowmen, my King."
Aragorn turned and saw a young guard in training by the name of Aerin - perhaps nineteen years of age - looking at him admiringly, and more than a little nervously. With the boy's simple words, déjà vu invaded his senses and he was spun back to a time when he was not yet known as Aragorn, when Estel was still his name.
~*~*~*~Flashback~*~*~*~*~
Estel closed one eye as he stretched the fletching of the air behind his ear. His face was set in concentration as he released the arrow and watched it thud into the trunk of a tall willow - five feet away from his intended target. The human sighed, but a smile donned his face as he stopped to gaze happily at the polished bow in his hands. It had been a gift from his foster brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, that afternoon for his eighteenth birthday. He was not too skilled with it, but he adored the bow anyway. The words ~Estel of Rivendell~ were engraved in the smooth wood, personalizing it. He lifted it again, restrung, and released. Three feet away. He was getting better, he decided. As he pulled the string back for a third attempt, a soft, but firm, voice interrupted him.
"You are a skillful bowman - for a human of your years, anyway."
Estel spun around in surprise and almost whacked the newcomer in the head with his bow. He apologized nervously before he stopped and took note of who stood across from him. An elf dressed in greens and browns with a quiver and twin blades strapped across his back stood before him. A longbow rested casually in his right hand. Oddly enough to Estel, the bow seemed to be an extension of the elf's arm, rather than a weapon. Judging by the light color of the elf's hair, the young man inferred that he was not of Rivendell. He realized he was staring and shook himself before answering.
"Thank you. I'm not as good as this bow deserves, but I try my best. Ah - I apologize for sounding ignorant, but may I ask who you are? I don't remember seeing you around here."
The golden elf smiled. "My name is Legolas of Mirkwood. I came for a short visit and to pay my respects to Lord Elrond."
Estel gaped. Now that he had more time to look at Legolas, he noticed the intricate circle on the elf's cloak - the royal seal of Mirkwood. ~By the Valar, I'm talking to Prince Legolas of Greenwood!~ Estel had heard of Legolas as being an incredible archer from his brothers. He had planned to perfect his archery in the chance that he would ever meet the Prince. Now though, Legolas had seen Estel's shooting for how horrible it was compared to his own. The human felt like disappearing.
Legolas seemed to be able to read his mind, because he laughed. "It appears you know who I am then, just as I know who you are, Estel of the Elves."
~He knows my name! Incredible~ Estel thought to himself. As he was still pondering what to say to Legolas, his thoughts were interrupted.
"Would you like me to show you how to get a better shot?"
Estel's eyes widened and he nodded eagerly.
"Alright then." Legolas gestures for Estel to notch an arrow once again. He placed one hand on the boy's shoulder and the other he lightly touched the bow. "Move your feet a little farther apart and tilt your shoulder just so - right, just like that. Loosen up, Estel - relax. From this distance, the arrow will fly in a slight arc, though you might not be able to see it. So, aim just a little higher than the target, see? Alright, steady your breathing - focus." Legolas took a step away. "Alright, now shoot."
To Estel's surprise and delight, the arrow thudded right on target. He turned to his new teacher and grinned. "Thank you."
"Anytime, Estel. We should go in now though- your father is expecting us for dinner."
The future King of Gondor nodded in consent before matching his stride with his new Elven friend, back towards the feast that awaited them.
~*~*~*~Flashback Ended~*~*~*~
Aragorn withheld the nostalgic sigh that threatened to escape him. That day in Rivendell was the beginning of a friendship that would last until the end of their days, well at least he had thought so. He remembered the laughter they shared that night at the grand dinner his father had prepared for them. He remembered how Legolas had decided to stay for a week - then another week - then another - rather than the three days as he had originally intended. The memories of the camping and hunting trips they went on, and the hours of long conversation by the trees - it all came back to him. Aragorn felt a heavy sadness descend upon him. ~I really should not have blamed Legolas as I did~
With a slight shake of his head, he turned to Aerin, who was looking at him quizzically.
"Would you like me to teach you?"
Aerin looked like he had just inherited the kingdom. Speechless, he nodded and stepped up. Aragorn handed him his bow and watched closely as the boy notched it clumsily.
"Alright Aerin. Space your feet a little and tilt your shoulders a bit. Make sure you're not stiff - relax. Aim a little higher than the target; from this distance, the arrow will be forced to fly in an arc. Understand? Good. Control your breathing and don't jerk when you release the arrow." Aragorn adjusted the boy's hands slightly before stepping a pace away. "Now shoot."
Aerin stared at the arrow that had struck the bark only a foot from the target. He looked up at his king and grinned. "I give you much thanks, my Lord - you are a good teacher."
Aragorn smiled back, though a sad light shone in his eyes. "I learned from the best. You are very good, Aerin, considering you have never picked up a bow before. You have a sense for it, I think. Keep practicing. Oh, and you can keep the bow as a gift". Aragorn clapped him on the shoulder before turning and strolling off into the woods.
Aerin stared at Aragorn's retreating back, his mouth agape. He turned his head to stare at his new bow, not believing his fortune. ~Light - I am holding the King's own bow! Iluvitar- ~
Aragorn walked until he was a decent distance away from the courtyard before he swung up into a giant magnolia tree. He ascended the thick branches nimbly - another skill Legolas had taught him in the early years. He shifted until he was comfortable on the highest branch. He turned his eyes towards the direction of Mirkwood. ~What have I done?~
"Elders of Mirkwood, you have been summoned to this meeting to reconsider a previous decision."
Legolas watched as his father addressed the council. Most of the elves present looked fidgety and anxious to be off.
"As you all are aware, Mirkwood has decided not to aid Gondor in its final stand against Sauron, for personal reasons. The Havens call us to her shores, and many here do not wish to delay that call." Thranduil continued. "However, I feel that perhaps we should rethink that decision. Gondor is an old ally, and," he glanced at Legolas, "their King is like a brother to my son."
Legolas rolled his eyes subtly and looked away from his father's gaze. ~Ha, a brother - riiiight~ He knew his father's words were true, but Aragorn obviously didn't feel that way if he had the gall to send Legolas away. ~Insufferable human~
"Well," an elder named Gawain spoke up, "I for one think we should leave Gondor to her own troubles. It is not as if we ever had an especially strong alliance with them, and besides, " he settled his hands in his lap, "the people of Mirkwood want to leave these shores as soon as possible."
"Yes, but perhaps we're being ungracious," an adviser of Thranduil named Iandor said. "We of Mirkwood have always tried to offer our assistance to less fortunate peoples and I fear perhaps not helping them will contradict our morals."
Draithien, a close friend of the royal family disagreed. "That may be true, Iandor, but-"
Legolas tuned out the debate as it gew more active. He idly thought of other things: the bird songs, the trees after the rain, Elladan's famous fireside stew - despite his hardest attempts, thoughts of Aragorn drifted up in his mind. Memories of laughter and mischief flooded the elf's head, try as he did to keep them out. He missed Aragorn's company tremendously, though he refused to admit it. So what if he was in denial. ~If he hadn't blown at me, then none of this would have every happened. It's still his blasted fault~
***But it's your fault, too.
~Oh do be quiet~ Legolas told his conscience irritably.
***Don't be bullheaded - Aragorn is not fully to blame, and he needs you now.
Legolas sighed. Deep in his heart Legolas knew he was partly to blame for their irrational argument. He almost wished he were mature enough to go back to Gondor and apologize. Almost.
He felt himself drifting back to the council. He heard a stern voice - Iandor again.
"But the people have already been told we are not to fight. How will the warriors feel when they are told they must battle when they are so lighthearted now because they think they will not have to see much more of Middle-Earth?" said the older elf.
Legolas played with the sleeve of his dark green shirt as his thoughts slid again. ~Alright, fine, it wasn't entirely Aragorn's fault, but all the same, he should not have been so foolish to speak hasty words in anger~ He ignored the fact that he was being hypocritical concerning he was guilty of the same thing.
"I agree with Gawain - we should help," offered Raethun, another elder.
"Aye, we should be there for Gondor and her King."
"Aye."
"No, I still agree with Iandor, it is not our place."
"Then again -"
Legolas wasn't quite paying attention as the council voiced their new outlooks. ~He may be King of Gondor, but I am royalty as well and he should respect that!~
Thranduil turned to look at his son, who was looking rather distant. The King of Mirkwood was surprised Legolas had not spoken up during that entire hour during the meeting. No matter - as long as the young elf could look past his pride and see sense. Thranduil again turned to the council.
He spoke with a firm voice of authority, "It does my heart well to see you all are at least reconsidering our options. Thank you for that, my friends. While I do hold the position of king, I will not make your decisions for you. As the representatives of the people, you will choose. However, I would appreciate it if you listened well to my son, your Prince, and take into account everything he says before making your decision."
~The nerve of him! He thinks he can simply yell at me like I am some child who has broken his favorite vase!~
"Legolas?"
~Impudent mortal. He even dared to call my people traitors! ~
"Legolas!"
~And he even ventured as far to call ME a traitor! A true friend would never assume such things~
"LEGOLAS!"
The young elf's head snapped up as Thranduil's sharp tone yanked him from his pool of thoughts. He looked around to see his father looking at him sternly and the council staring at him quizzically.
"Legolas, this is your chance to speak."
"Oh. sorry, father." Legolas stood and opened his mouth to speak. Before any words could come forth, Aragorn's harsh words came back to him again. Legolas remembered the fire in his friend's eyes and the way he had clutched the hilt of his sword as if he has been planning to pull it out and use it. Legolas recalled the bitter tone in Aragorn's voice as he sent Legolas away.
A dark grief jerked at him, but his anger overrode it a dozen times over. ~My pride may be getting the best of me, but it is the end for he and I, and nothing can take back what was said~
Legolas' eyes hardened and he didn't look at his father when he finally spoke. His voice was cold. "The King Elessar of Gondor expressed to me during my last visit that he does not need or want our assistance. He can make do without us."
Legolas sat back down amid the stunned silence that followed his words spoken in frost. The council members glances at each other in confusion; Legolas was supposed to defend Gondor. He had before. Why didn't he now?
Thranduil stared at his young son whose eyes were cast down. He sighed. Shaking his head slowly in disappointment, he addressed the council. "After your Prince's words, what is your decision, council of Mirkwood? To make this simple, raise your hands if you wish to aid Gondor."
The elders looked at each other oddly. Why should they help Gondor if the King there didn't want their help? Besides, Legolas didn't seem enthusiastic about this in the least. Therefore, Gondor's troubles couldn't be that bad - Prince Legolas was King Elessar's best friend; he would help if he knew Gondor needed it. Justified, the council remained still.
Thranduil sighed. Not one hand was raised. And to think - they were so close - so close - in convincing Mirkwood to help Gondor. Why did his son have to keep up his moronic pride now of all times? -But it could not be undone.
"It is decided then. We sail to the Havens." Thranduil's voice was heavy. ~He has decided then~
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Longest chapter yet, at 10 pages in a Word document! Dang, I wish I could write that much for school essays =Þ Anyways, pop me some comments and suggestions, and stay tuned! =D
FFN is weird. does anyone know how to make italics and "etc periods" show up? I tried html, but that didn't work. What the hay-diddly!?! Argh, how frustrating. I need italics and periods! YAAAAGGHH - ahem, sorry. Anyways, if anyone knows about that, fill me in please! Oh yeah, since we're on the subject, how do you center things and bold things and make some text bigger than others? Aiiyaaaaa!
I'm writing another story as I finish up this one, so stay tuned for more info bout that! Hopefully, it'll be more interesting than this one. Heh heh heh heh.
Ok, enough from me. Read on, oh, LotT adventurers!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter 4: Legolas' Choice
A soft kock on the chamber doors snapped Aragorn from his reverie. He cleared his throat. "Come in."
Two guards appeared looking rather nervous. Before Aragorn could inquire about what they wanted, one guard pushed in a third person. The King of Gondor raised one eyebrow. Standing before him was a middle-aged man that had obviously been traveling for many days. His weather-beaten face and light brown hair were streaked with dirt, and his clothes were ripped and frayed in some places. He carried no weapons, only the light of knowledge in his eyes that spoke of some ominous foreboding. The man dropped to his knows before his king and bowed his head. "My Lord, permission to speak."
Taking full note of the man, Aragorn nodded curiously, "Permission granted."
"My name is Maryich of the House Ragan. I come from the village of Hadborough, twenty-five leagues west of here. I was out scouting with a raiding party of five others. We were camping on the third day when we were ambushed by a small party of Uruk-hai."
Uruk-hai. That word certainly caught Aragorn's attention,
The man continued, "We were downwind of them, so we had no warning of them. Three of my companions were killed and another injured. Knowing we could not hold against them, the remaining three of us fled into the forests. We were surprised when we were not followed. Apparently, the Uruk-hai had been looking only for a food source to last them a short while.
Aragorn frowned. ~Those must be the same creatures who march against Gondor~ The man's next words confirmed that.
"Later that night, we decided to track the main body, to see what they were up to. We crouched behind a knoll for hours, spying on them. We overheard conversations about breaking down Gondor's walls. We assumed they were planning to attack your city, though we thought that odd because we only saw a hundred of them or so, hardly enough to even be considered dangerous to a kingdom such as Gondor. Then -" he shivered in spite of himself, "Then we heard horns blowing, from far ahead of us. Curious and confused, we climbed the hill and there they were. Thousands of them, bedding down for the night. Their campfires looked like stars in the sky, so many of them there were. We left that moment - I send my two companions back to Hadborough and I journeyed here to warn you." With those words said, he bowed his head and took a step back respectively.
Aragorn's eyes narrowed in thought. He met the man's eyes. "How long ago was this? -that you saw them, I mean."
"Two and a half weeks ago, my Lord."
"Aragorn's eyes widened. Two and a half weeks! "Are you saying more than a thousand Uruk-hai will be knocking at Gondor's gates in two and half week's time? Come, man, speak!"
"No! Well, at least, I doubt it. I took a more secret route to get here. It takes much shorter a time for one man to get here using secret pathways than for an entire army who uses the long way."
Aragorn breathed a sigh of relief. He loosened his fists, which he just noticed had tightened while the man was talking. He still had some time. He stepped forward and grasped the man's shoulder. "Well down, Maryich, I thank you. Go, get something to eat - my guards will show you a room to stay for the night. In the morning, I will provide you with a horse. Hurry home - you will not want to be here in a few weeks."
After Maryich left, Aragorn sat staring out his window for several minutes. ~More than a thousand of them - Gondor is destroyed at last then?~
He tamped down the bitter bite of helplessness that was steadily rising in him. Several dozen men in the courtyards below caught his attention; they were training for the upcoming battle. Despite all the odds stacked against him, he smiled with pride. His men were working and training day and night, their spirits never slackened. They had faith in their King - more faith than Aragorn had in himself.
Suddenly feeling guilty for the fact that he had been brooding in his rooms for two days, he grabbed his sword and strapped it around his waste. He threw open his doors, bounded down the stairs, and jogged into the courtyard. Once his men saw him, they stopped immediately and dropped to their knees. Half way down, Aragorn stopped them and waved, bidding them continue.
He watched them for a long time, offering encouragement and advice when he felt it was needed. ~These men show more courage than I've ever had~ To his surprise, since the first time since Legolas left, he felt hope.
Aragorn gave one last tip to a pair of sparring partners and turned, making his way to a more secluded area. His hands closed on the pommel of his sword. The blade flew from its sheath and whirled in the air as the weapon took on a life of its own. Aragorn didn't know how long he trained - he hardly knew what he was doing. His battle instincts were at work here and he had no control over his own body, it seemed.
Finally, Anduril slowed and stopped. Aragorn sheathed the ancient blade before pulling out the bow that was strapped to his back. He picked a target on a distant oak and strung his bow. He shot arrow after arrow, never once missing his intended target. A voice startled him out of his intense concentration.
"You are a skillfull bowmen, my King."
Aragorn turned and saw a young guard in training by the name of Aerin - perhaps nineteen years of age - looking at him admiringly, and more than a little nervously. With the boy's simple words, déjà vu invaded his senses and he was spun back to a time when he was not yet known as Aragorn, when Estel was still his name.
~*~*~*~Flashback~*~*~*~*~
Estel closed one eye as he stretched the fletching of the air behind his ear. His face was set in concentration as he released the arrow and watched it thud into the trunk of a tall willow - five feet away from his intended target. The human sighed, but a smile donned his face as he stopped to gaze happily at the polished bow in his hands. It had been a gift from his foster brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, that afternoon for his eighteenth birthday. He was not too skilled with it, but he adored the bow anyway. The words ~Estel of Rivendell~ were engraved in the smooth wood, personalizing it. He lifted it again, restrung, and released. Three feet away. He was getting better, he decided. As he pulled the string back for a third attempt, a soft, but firm, voice interrupted him.
"You are a skillful bowman - for a human of your years, anyway."
Estel spun around in surprise and almost whacked the newcomer in the head with his bow. He apologized nervously before he stopped and took note of who stood across from him. An elf dressed in greens and browns with a quiver and twin blades strapped across his back stood before him. A longbow rested casually in his right hand. Oddly enough to Estel, the bow seemed to be an extension of the elf's arm, rather than a weapon. Judging by the light color of the elf's hair, the young man inferred that he was not of Rivendell. He realized he was staring and shook himself before answering.
"Thank you. I'm not as good as this bow deserves, but I try my best. Ah - I apologize for sounding ignorant, but may I ask who you are? I don't remember seeing you around here."
The golden elf smiled. "My name is Legolas of Mirkwood. I came for a short visit and to pay my respects to Lord Elrond."
Estel gaped. Now that he had more time to look at Legolas, he noticed the intricate circle on the elf's cloak - the royal seal of Mirkwood. ~By the Valar, I'm talking to Prince Legolas of Greenwood!~ Estel had heard of Legolas as being an incredible archer from his brothers. He had planned to perfect his archery in the chance that he would ever meet the Prince. Now though, Legolas had seen Estel's shooting for how horrible it was compared to his own. The human felt like disappearing.
Legolas seemed to be able to read his mind, because he laughed. "It appears you know who I am then, just as I know who you are, Estel of the Elves."
~He knows my name! Incredible~ Estel thought to himself. As he was still pondering what to say to Legolas, his thoughts were interrupted.
"Would you like me to show you how to get a better shot?"
Estel's eyes widened and he nodded eagerly.
"Alright then." Legolas gestures for Estel to notch an arrow once again. He placed one hand on the boy's shoulder and the other he lightly touched the bow. "Move your feet a little farther apart and tilt your shoulder just so - right, just like that. Loosen up, Estel - relax. From this distance, the arrow will fly in a slight arc, though you might not be able to see it. So, aim just a little higher than the target, see? Alright, steady your breathing - focus." Legolas took a step away. "Alright, now shoot."
To Estel's surprise and delight, the arrow thudded right on target. He turned to his new teacher and grinned. "Thank you."
"Anytime, Estel. We should go in now though- your father is expecting us for dinner."
The future King of Gondor nodded in consent before matching his stride with his new Elven friend, back towards the feast that awaited them.
~*~*~*~Flashback Ended~*~*~*~
Aragorn withheld the nostalgic sigh that threatened to escape him. That day in Rivendell was the beginning of a friendship that would last until the end of their days, well at least he had thought so. He remembered the laughter they shared that night at the grand dinner his father had prepared for them. He remembered how Legolas had decided to stay for a week - then another week - then another - rather than the three days as he had originally intended. The memories of the camping and hunting trips they went on, and the hours of long conversation by the trees - it all came back to him. Aragorn felt a heavy sadness descend upon him. ~I really should not have blamed Legolas as I did~
With a slight shake of his head, he turned to Aerin, who was looking at him quizzically.
"Would you like me to teach you?"
Aerin looked like he had just inherited the kingdom. Speechless, he nodded and stepped up. Aragorn handed him his bow and watched closely as the boy notched it clumsily.
"Alright Aerin. Space your feet a little and tilt your shoulders a bit. Make sure you're not stiff - relax. Aim a little higher than the target; from this distance, the arrow will be forced to fly in an arc. Understand? Good. Control your breathing and don't jerk when you release the arrow." Aragorn adjusted the boy's hands slightly before stepping a pace away. "Now shoot."
Aerin stared at the arrow that had struck the bark only a foot from the target. He looked up at his king and grinned. "I give you much thanks, my Lord - you are a good teacher."
Aragorn smiled back, though a sad light shone in his eyes. "I learned from the best. You are very good, Aerin, considering you have never picked up a bow before. You have a sense for it, I think. Keep practicing. Oh, and you can keep the bow as a gift". Aragorn clapped him on the shoulder before turning and strolling off into the woods.
Aerin stared at Aragorn's retreating back, his mouth agape. He turned his head to stare at his new bow, not believing his fortune. ~Light - I am holding the King's own bow! Iluvitar- ~
Aragorn walked until he was a decent distance away from the courtyard before he swung up into a giant magnolia tree. He ascended the thick branches nimbly - another skill Legolas had taught him in the early years. He shifted until he was comfortable on the highest branch. He turned his eyes towards the direction of Mirkwood. ~What have I done?~
"Elders of Mirkwood, you have been summoned to this meeting to reconsider a previous decision."
Legolas watched as his father addressed the council. Most of the elves present looked fidgety and anxious to be off.
"As you all are aware, Mirkwood has decided not to aid Gondor in its final stand against Sauron, for personal reasons. The Havens call us to her shores, and many here do not wish to delay that call." Thranduil continued. "However, I feel that perhaps we should rethink that decision. Gondor is an old ally, and," he glanced at Legolas, "their King is like a brother to my son."
Legolas rolled his eyes subtly and looked away from his father's gaze. ~Ha, a brother - riiiight~ He knew his father's words were true, but Aragorn obviously didn't feel that way if he had the gall to send Legolas away. ~Insufferable human~
"Well," an elder named Gawain spoke up, "I for one think we should leave Gondor to her own troubles. It is not as if we ever had an especially strong alliance with them, and besides, " he settled his hands in his lap, "the people of Mirkwood want to leave these shores as soon as possible."
"Yes, but perhaps we're being ungracious," an adviser of Thranduil named Iandor said. "We of Mirkwood have always tried to offer our assistance to less fortunate peoples and I fear perhaps not helping them will contradict our morals."
Draithien, a close friend of the royal family disagreed. "That may be true, Iandor, but-"
Legolas tuned out the debate as it gew more active. He idly thought of other things: the bird songs, the trees after the rain, Elladan's famous fireside stew - despite his hardest attempts, thoughts of Aragorn drifted up in his mind. Memories of laughter and mischief flooded the elf's head, try as he did to keep them out. He missed Aragorn's company tremendously, though he refused to admit it. So what if he was in denial. ~If he hadn't blown at me, then none of this would have every happened. It's still his blasted fault~
***But it's your fault, too.
~Oh do be quiet~ Legolas told his conscience irritably.
***Don't be bullheaded - Aragorn is not fully to blame, and he needs you now.
Legolas sighed. Deep in his heart Legolas knew he was partly to blame for their irrational argument. He almost wished he were mature enough to go back to Gondor and apologize. Almost.
He felt himself drifting back to the council. He heard a stern voice - Iandor again.
"But the people have already been told we are not to fight. How will the warriors feel when they are told they must battle when they are so lighthearted now because they think they will not have to see much more of Middle-Earth?" said the older elf.
Legolas played with the sleeve of his dark green shirt as his thoughts slid again. ~Alright, fine, it wasn't entirely Aragorn's fault, but all the same, he should not have been so foolish to speak hasty words in anger~ He ignored the fact that he was being hypocritical concerning he was guilty of the same thing.
"I agree with Gawain - we should help," offered Raethun, another elder.
"Aye, we should be there for Gondor and her King."
"Aye."
"No, I still agree with Iandor, it is not our place."
"Then again -"
Legolas wasn't quite paying attention as the council voiced their new outlooks. ~He may be King of Gondor, but I am royalty as well and he should respect that!~
Thranduil turned to look at his son, who was looking rather distant. The King of Mirkwood was surprised Legolas had not spoken up during that entire hour during the meeting. No matter - as long as the young elf could look past his pride and see sense. Thranduil again turned to the council.
He spoke with a firm voice of authority, "It does my heart well to see you all are at least reconsidering our options. Thank you for that, my friends. While I do hold the position of king, I will not make your decisions for you. As the representatives of the people, you will choose. However, I would appreciate it if you listened well to my son, your Prince, and take into account everything he says before making your decision."
~The nerve of him! He thinks he can simply yell at me like I am some child who has broken his favorite vase!~
"Legolas?"
~Impudent mortal. He even dared to call my people traitors! ~
"Legolas!"
~And he even ventured as far to call ME a traitor! A true friend would never assume such things~
"LEGOLAS!"
The young elf's head snapped up as Thranduil's sharp tone yanked him from his pool of thoughts. He looked around to see his father looking at him sternly and the council staring at him quizzically.
"Legolas, this is your chance to speak."
"Oh. sorry, father." Legolas stood and opened his mouth to speak. Before any words could come forth, Aragorn's harsh words came back to him again. Legolas remembered the fire in his friend's eyes and the way he had clutched the hilt of his sword as if he has been planning to pull it out and use it. Legolas recalled the bitter tone in Aragorn's voice as he sent Legolas away.
A dark grief jerked at him, but his anger overrode it a dozen times over. ~My pride may be getting the best of me, but it is the end for he and I, and nothing can take back what was said~
Legolas' eyes hardened and he didn't look at his father when he finally spoke. His voice was cold. "The King Elessar of Gondor expressed to me during my last visit that he does not need or want our assistance. He can make do without us."
Legolas sat back down amid the stunned silence that followed his words spoken in frost. The council members glances at each other in confusion; Legolas was supposed to defend Gondor. He had before. Why didn't he now?
Thranduil stared at his young son whose eyes were cast down. He sighed. Shaking his head slowly in disappointment, he addressed the council. "After your Prince's words, what is your decision, council of Mirkwood? To make this simple, raise your hands if you wish to aid Gondor."
The elders looked at each other oddly. Why should they help Gondor if the King there didn't want their help? Besides, Legolas didn't seem enthusiastic about this in the least. Therefore, Gondor's troubles couldn't be that bad - Prince Legolas was King Elessar's best friend; he would help if he knew Gondor needed it. Justified, the council remained still.
Thranduil sighed. Not one hand was raised. And to think - they were so close - so close - in convincing Mirkwood to help Gondor. Why did his son have to keep up his moronic pride now of all times? -But it could not be undone.
"It is decided then. We sail to the Havens." Thranduil's voice was heavy. ~He has decided then~
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Longest chapter yet, at 10 pages in a Word document! Dang, I wish I could write that much for school essays =Þ Anyways, pop me some comments and suggestions, and stay tuned! =D