This took longer than I thought, mainly because I haven't had a stretch of a three or four hours straight where I could sit down at my computer and write. But thank you all so much for your kind reviews! Here is chapter 3. I hope you enjoy it!
~~*~~
Promises Broken
'I have been promised three years' grace,' said Legolas. 'Three years in which no political arrangements shall concern me, no potential mates will be paraded before me – or I before them.' Three years, I have, to find the one who is my love, and not just my lover. 'I will enjoy the last of my freedom, Berethin.'
His cousin snorted disdainfully. 'Your father promised you this? The same one who promised that you would join the archers on your hundredth nameday, if only you would break company with Chryssa? The same one who promised that you would have a war-steed to break in for your own, if only you would stop roaming the woods alone?'
But even after Legolas had obeyed the commands – for his part was not a bargain, but a command with a reward if obeyed, and a harsh punishment if not – even after he had complied with a heavy heart, the usually friendly captain of the archers had gruffly refused him a place amongst the warriors without explanation, and trade prices that year had meant that no horse was ever forthcoming.
Berethin's voice softened at the look on Legolas' face. 'What was the price, this time?'
Legolas sighed. 'Marriage, to the elf of his choice,' he said shortly.
Berethin was not surprised. Riches, politics, his hatred of Rivendell and his fierce love for Mirkwood were the only things which occupied the mind of Thranduil. Berethin guessed that Legolas' future betrothed would come from a wealthy family with whom an alliance would see war upon Rivendell. Not a moment too soon, either, thought Berethin with deep resentment. My arrows are itching to find Rivendell targets, and my knives are eager to rend Rivendell flesh!
'Let us speak no more of this,' said Legolas. 'I fear it shall be spoken of to the death, when its time is come.'
Berethin grinned impudently at him, but it was more a show to make Legolas feel better than anything else. 'In that case, let us spend the day hunting the foxes in the woods, and the night, hunting the foxes in the palace!'
Legolas laughed despite himself. 'Berethin, you are incorrigible.'
Berethin gave a mock bow, then the two parted ways to equip themselves in their hunting gear.
Legolas' rooms were at the top of the palace. The height gave him a sense of solitude that was his solace from the politics that ran rife through Mirkwood. Most nights he stood at the balcony, staring for hours into the darkness around him.
He was not surprised to find that his chambers were not empty. An elf-woman was folding his tunics, and putting them carefully away in his drawers.
'Good morn, Elian,' he said.
She nodded in reply, but did not look up. Her robes were grey, and so were her hair and eyes. The other elves of Mirkwood called her the Grey One, or the Weary One, for of them all, she wished the most to sail for Valinor. Elian had lost her lover to orcs, and her three daughters to the feud that ran between Mirkwood and Rivendell. When her last child, a babe of no more than a month, had perished, many feared that grief would claim her. But Legolas' own mother had died at the same time, and as he was of an age with her dead child, she had become his wet-nurse. Remaining in Mirkwood was a daily struggle for Elian, and all knew that Legolas was her last and only anchor to these shores.
Legolas exchanged his court tunic for a hunting one. From the corner of his eye, he saw Elian watching him.
'I think,' she said slowly, 'that you will not have the time for hunting today, Legolas.'
He paused in the act of lacing his gauntlet, surprised.
'Your father requests a word with you.'
'Oh.' A meeting with his father, while not unpleasant, was rarely a comfortable experience. 'Well, it shall only take a moment, I suppose.' It was Thranduil's custom to call Legolas before him, explain his newest wish, and then dismiss the prince summarily. 'I will meet Berethin afterwards.'
'I do not think you will have time to go hunting today,' said Elian again, but then refused to explain. 'Go, go see your father if you are so impatient to know.'
Bemused, and slightly irritated at this sudden change of plans, Legolas headed towards the door.
'Legolas,' came Elian's voice behind him. 'There are some things in this world which cannot be changed, much as we would like to change them. Do not lose hope.'
Legolas shook his head at that, but her cryptic words made the hairs along his arms stir faintly.
~~*~~
Thranduil was seated at his desk, a scribe by his side and two advisors before him. He looked up as Legolas entered.
Thranduil's shrewd glace took in his son's hunting clothes, his hands unconsciously clenched into fists, his shoulders squared. As if he were getting ready to fight me, Thranduil thought tiredly.
'Father,' said Legolas respectfully. For some reason he felt the mix of wild fear and adrenalin that he felt before battle. He tried to shake it off.
Thranduil made an elegant motion to the other elves, and bowing gracefully, they stood at ease.
At ease, thought Legolas, not dismissed. Are his thoughts never far from this game of politics?
'We had an agreement, you and I,' began Thranduil.
Ai! That is his Diplomat Face! This is not looking good.
'The terms were that for three years, you enjoyed your…bachelorhood. And after that, you married to my approval.'
Legolas kept perfectly still.
Thranduil flipped through the pile of parchment on his desk. 'The conditions have changed, slightly. The Lord Machlen has offered his daughter in marriage to you. It is, I believe, a most satisfactory alliance. The betrothal will be tonight. However, I will hold by my side of the bargain. The marriage will not take place until the allotted three years has passed.' He nodded once, as if that settled it. 'Be sure to wear something more flattering than that old hunting outfit tonight, Legolas.'
Legolas felt as though he had swallowed a bucket of ice. 'Tonight?' he said, his voice sounding strangely ordinary to his ears.
But Thranduil's attention was back on the parchments he was reading. 'Her name is Heleyna, I think,' he said absently. 'Heleyna Dawnsinger. But I suppose you would have found that out, sooner or later.'
He held his breath as Legolas stood unmoving for a moment more, then stiffly exited the room. His breath came out as a long sigh as sharp elven senses listened to the fading footsteps of his son.
'Does he know, I wonder, how hard it is to be king and father both?' Thranduil said, at last. Then he shook his head, and returned his attention in full to the treaty before him.
~~*~~
Berethin would have cursed. He would have flung his anger at Thranduil, then unleashed his considerable temper at anyone who happened to cross his path.
But Legolas did not. He found solitude in his rooms – Elian, knowing Thranduil's news before Legolas, had thoughtfully left the rooms so that he might be alone. He sat on the floor of the balcony, so that the walls of it reached higher than his head, and shielded him from external view.
Calm, he thought. He would deal with this the same way he had always dealt with these sudden announcements of his father's.
He had felt like he had swallowed a bucket of ice. He just needed time to digest it, time to accept it and move on.
But at the moment, his body trembled with the shock. He hugged his knees closer to his chest, in a way that more became an elven-child than an elven-prince. His breathing was rushed, shallow. Legolas squeezed his eyes shut. Married! I am too young to be married, it is too soon to be trussed up like a sacrificial bull to be offered to whichever ally my father needs to placate!
Unthinking, Legolas' teeth found the flesh just beneath his right thumb. He bit down, the pain offering a blessed distraction from the anguish he held inside. It also helped anchor his thoughts to the present.
Heleyna Dawnsinger. Legolas searched through his memory for a sense of her. She was slightly older than he; a cold, proud beauty. Her colours were red and silver. But that was all he could think of.
He wondered if she, too, would be this nervous about their rapidly approaching betrothal. Or perhaps she awaited it eagerly, like some did. Legolas gave his customary little shrug. His father was right. He would find out, sooner or later.
Elbereth, why couldn't it have been later?
Legolas was calm again, but even he would not venture to say whether it was true calm or just the barest veneer over his despair. Tonight, he would be dressed in finery to receive the Lady Heleyna as his betrothed. He should probably have a gift for her – Berethin would no doubt have a ready store of such trinkets to please potential lovers. He would be the dutiful son and prince of Mirkwood.
But for the moment, he would take as long as he could to sit and dwell on his one regret.
He had had many lovers, but no true love. And now, it seemed, he never would.
~~*~~
So here is Legolas! And I feel like an Ent – I take so long to say anything at all. But Aragorn, Elladan and Elrohir are on their way to Mirkwood, and Legolas is about to get ready for his betrothal, so now the action starts! Please review if you would like to read chapter 4.
