"My Lord, so good to see you home." Nevturar, a handsome peasant youth, had run to the side of the prince almost immediately upon his entering the gates of the city. Youthful eagerness pulled his face into a grotesque smile as he waited for acknowledgement from the prince. Receiving none and following his mandate to assist the prince he reached for the reigns of his magnificent chestnut steed, which Legolas was quick to pull away.
"Bide your time! Let me enjoy this parade in my honor and meet me at the stables. There you may care for Ruinfëa." He turned the horse sharply and began to float his way through the throngs of cheering people. Nevturar's smile flickered and a touch of color rose into his cheeks as he lowered his eyes and stepped to the side, allowing room for the caravan of merrymaking townspeople who were following the prince to continue on their way. He waited until the last of the revelers passed from sight before trotting off towards the stables.
For Legolas, the servant was forgotten almost immediately as he returned his eyes to the decorations and the colorful crowds about him. They clambered to be nearer, all shouting his name and clapping their hands with joy, each face bright with enthusiasm and hope. They had had precious little to be joyful for over the past year and now their pent-up rapture was pouring sheer electricity into the air and giving an excitement to the approaching evening.
With the songs of thousands he entered the palace gates, to be met by his own familiar courtyard resplendent in lights and ribbons and music. The warm smell of cooking meat wafted from open fires and curled towards the sky in blue-gray smoke rings. The ground was covered in sweet smelling flower petals and above the festivities gently billowed a sheer canvas of pale blue color. The setting for a feast the likes of which had never been seen before sprawled out in every direction from the main tent- every rolling hill of the palace garden was covered with tables and food aplenty, simply waiting for the entire kingdom to rejoice as one.
"Master Legolas, welcome home." A dark-haired elf Lord came to the Prince's side and brushed the petals with his fingertips as he fell into a low bow. He righted himself and smiled at the prince- a grin that Legolas knew all too well.
"Master Araorë!" Legolas quickly dismounted and embraced his friend, smiling and realizing all in a rush how much he had truly missed his home. Araorë clapped him on the shoulder and together they made their way towards the front steps of the palace, where patiently stood King Thranduil and the Lady Carandoliel waiting for Legolas' arrival. As they walked, they spoke with their heads close together like two conspirators as the crowd still boisterously clapped and sung about them.
"And what…noble actions have you busied yourself with since my departure? None too risqué I hope…" Araorë felt a rush of color rise up to the base of his neck at Legolas' teasing. He knew the prince was fully aware of his quiet, almost isolated lifestyle and yet, he never lost a chance to jest with him about it.
Araorë had lived in the kingdom of King Thranduil ever since he was a small boy. Having been born into a noble family he was privileged, after his father's death at the hand of an orc, to have been raised alongside the young Prince of Greenwood.
Throughout their youth, Legolas had always been the more adventurous of the two and it was a safe guess that when they were caught (as they often were) in the thick of a mess, that the young prince had been the schemer and Araorë the silent accomplice. He and Legolas had been great friends and together they had built a lasting friendship that, as the years went by and Araorë mysteriously retreated into himself, became his only link to the outside world.
As they had grown older, their interests had diverged, taking them down different paths, but keeping within sight of each other all the same. When Legolas had taken up knives and swords, Araorë had picked up quills and manuscripts, applying his time to the study of the ancients. He had been appointed to the King's court and had settled in quite comfortably amongst his silent and only companions- his books.
"Still working with the manuscripts?" Legolas reached down and picked up Araorë's right hand, smeared with ink and calloused by long tedious hours of writing. He laughed and showed his friend his own hands, rough and worn by his bow and reigns.
"You see? Still like brothers!" They both grinned and turned their eyes towards the palace entryway, which still stood quite a distance away considering the crowd they were obliged to cut through.
"…And Carandoliel? How has she fared these long months?" Legolas' voice was suddenly urgent and heavy and his eyes held nothing of the joviality he had spoken with only moments ago. Araorë stole a glance towards the steps where the lady in question now stood by the side of the king before turning his dark gray eyes towards his friend again. Legolas was almost breathless with anxiety and Araorë could tell that his next words had to be chosen carefully, so no misunderstanding or confusion could come of them.
"The Lady has fared them well my Lord…as well as a maiden in love can." Legolas' face brightened and Araorë felt his breath run out in a sigh of relief. His friend's smile was healthier than he had seen it in a long time.
"Then she still waits for me?"
"Without doubt."