I have been blessed with the two most wonderful betas in the world of
fanfiction. Much thanks as always goes out to al and Melian. I love you guys!
Also, the good and wise King of Eryn Lasgalen is mentioned thanks to the
creative genius who is TreeHugger. Thanks for letting me borrow the
phrase, nin mellon!
Disclaimer: All characters and places belong to or inspired by Tolkien.
(A) Star is Binding Me
Chapter VIII – Something Amiss
Legolas took in a deep breath, and then let it out ever so slowly.
"I, Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen and Lord of Edhilbar, hereby decree that all privileges and liberties priorly forfeited by Celebhil Astaldion shall be now restored to him." He spoke the words quickly yet in a most regal manner.
Celebhil grinned at the prince. Legolas really did enjoy playing "Thranduil" sometimes. The formality was unnecessary, and the decrees—both the previous one dismissing his privileges and liberties and now this one reinstating them—probably meant nothing as there was no one to witness them. However, it was good to hear the prince make the second decree, just to be sure.
"Ahem!" said Legolas, clearing his throat expectantly and causing Celebhil to jump slightly in response. He really could sound like his sire sometimes.
"Yes, sorry," Celebhil said, returning to the moment. "I, Celebhil Astaldion, promise to divulge none of the information that Legolas Thranduilion, my Lord Prince, will share with me this day to Talathion...." His voice trailed off and he knit his brow in concentration as he sought to recall who exactly had begotten the warder.
"Angpaurion," Legolas finished for him. "But it matters not. I accept your vow and will hold you to it."
"Most generous of you, my prince," Celebhil said, bowing his head graciously from where he still sat cross-legged in front of Legolas.
Legolas nodded, then turned his head up and away. His blue eyes studied the trees around him, as if he were analyzing every detail on bark and branches, memorizing the knots and gnarls, the twists and turns.
Normally such behavior would have worried Celebhil, fearing the Call of the Sea was growing loud in Legolas' ear and that he was paying it heed, but he had made that mistake once already this week and he would not make it again anytime soon. Besides, given the circumstances, he could tell what thoughts actually harbored themselves in Legolas' mind. This was a classic "Legolas, youngest son of Thranduil" move if he ever saw one.
"Ahem!" Celebhil said, finding it his turn to impersonate the good and wise King of Eryn Lasgalen.
The still form of Legolas neither jerked nor jumped at Celebhil's not-so-subtle hint. Instead, the noble elf turned his gaze back on his friend as slow as an inchworm might crawl along a tree limb towards the open beak of a robin, sitting there awaiting its meal.
"Yes?" the prince asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"Our statements have been made. You may begin telling your story about why you use your old bow this day, instead of the bow of the Galadhrim," Celebhil stated, trying to inject a note of regality into his voice as well.
The only response made by the prince was a further raising of the eyebrow, if that was even possible.
"Honestly, Legolas!" Celebhil said, growing quite exasperated with Legolas' game. "I know not what you seek to accomplish with all this maneuvering. You asked how you could make up your poor choice of words to me, and this is what I have identified," he said, holding up the bow and giving it a firm shake between them.
Legolas sighed and his princely posture fell into the slumped shoulders of one who was resigning himself to torment. "Very well then. I will tell you, but you will believe it not."
"I would hear it regardless," Celebhil said. This should be good; it needs be for it to cause Legolas so much discomfiture. Celebhil was determined that his friend would not soon forget whatever experience it was he sought to conceal. The sons of Thranduil were not easily rattled. Some would say that this was due to their father's blood coursing through their veins; that along with his golden hair, they had inherited his hard shell. Nothing ruffled the king's feathers. Nothing. Others, however, attributed the princes' steeled demeanor to the fact that, because their father was Thranduil, they had great need to develop a mechanism to deal with his weighty gazes and judgmental personality. Thus was born the manner in which things just did not affect them—fear, worry, pain, embarrassment. Thranduil's sons seemed to be able to dismiss anything and everything that might cause others to fret or despair or become abashed. For them, it was like water rolling off a duck's back. Which one was truly the case, Celebhil was unsure; he only knew he would make the most of this occurrence for some time to come.
Watching and waiting for his friend to begin, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Legolas began to pull at the hem of his tunic sleeve, something Celebhil hadn't seen him do since he was a novice archer, and something he had only done when an arrow had allegedly strayed from its course, whizzing by Talathion's ear or just past his nose. It was something Legolas did to buy time to conjure up a suitable story to explain why the arrow had strayed in the first place.
"I was hard-pressed to abandon both bow and quiver. I know not when I shall recover it, and so I make use of this one until such time," he explained, picking up the bow from Celebhil's lap and twanging the string.
"And what pressed you?" Celebhil asked, not nearly satisfied with the prince's much abbreviated explanation.
Legolas began to study the ties of his soft boots, his brow creasing ever so slightly as he undid one of the knots and began to retie it. To the untrained eye, perhaps even to that of Talathion and King Thranduil, the furrow would have gone unnoticed, or have been attributed to the errant knot. Though he had not seen it for nearly fourteen hundred years, Celebhil recognized this look for what it actually was. To his eye, it was a warning sign that something was amiss, and that the prince was most likely responsible for that something. He oftentimes had been with Legolas when Thranduil's youngest son donned this look, usually after they had just stolen fresh pastries from the kitchens or released a few black squirrels in the princesses' private chambers. It was the look that would deign itself upon Legolas' countenance as he solidified in his mind the details of whatever tale he was spinning whenever his sire or Talathion interrogated him about ill happenings in or around the palace.
Celebhil debated whether he should interrupt the prince's ponderings or if he should sit silently by, waiting until Legolas had it all figured out and would then tell him the tale. On one hand, it would be quite humorous to watch the prince scramble and make up his story as he went along. On the other hand, Celebhil was quite curious to hear the full tale as Legolas wanted it to be.
In the end, the other hand won out. Legolas always did tell good tales.
"You know of the northern glade?" Legolas asked eventually, as he untied the knot of his other boot and then retied it again.
"The one where the willow stands as guard?" Celebhil prompted, to which Legolas nodded. "Of course I know of it." It is your glade.
"I sought yesterday to relax my troubled mind in the cool water of the stream that runs through it, but was caught unawares by the approach of that woman whom we found in the wood. In deciding to forgo an encounter with her, I was forced to leave clothes as well as bow and quiver behind," he explained, his voice remaining incredibly even and his gaze steady.
Celebhil laughed heartily. Legolas can surely do better than this. "You lack practice, Legolas!" he cried out. "Come! Out with it! Let me have the real story."
"I speak only truth," Legolas said, his gaze unfaltering.
"Legolas, I promised not to tell Talathion and now I promise not to tell anyone else who would tell Talathion. You can be forthright with me."
"I speak only truth," he repeated.
Celebhil found his mirthful expulsions slowing down as he continued to watch the prince. He looked at his friend, studying his face, searching for any sign of deceit or falsity. He found none.
"The woman...the mortal...the one who...," Celebhil indicated a slice upon his left cheek.
"Yes, that woman," Legolas confirmed, annoyance written on his face from being reminded of the cut, though any evidence of it was now completely gone.
"She is still alive? She is still well? How?"
"She is still alive and still well. She has survived off what she could find in the glade, ligonberry blossoms among other things, and someone has recently provided her with more substantial nourishment."
Celebhil creased his brow at this, looking at Legolas questionably. The prince had proven several times over his long years that he was indeed chivalrous and brave. He oftentimes had lent aid or rescued others under duress or in distress, especially when those others happened to be young maidens. True, his actions were not always made with the best judgment or deemed entirely necessary, for certainly Celebhil could think of more than one occasion when Legolas had rushed in to save the day when in fact aid was not needed or when it would have been wiser to seek reinforcement. The latter of these had perhaps cost the Woodland Realm the life of their queen and the newborn princess, and Legolas still carried the guilt of that knowledge with him. Celebhil had been with him that fateful day in Mirkwood, however, and he knew the difficult choice Legolas had been forced to make.
"Yes, the provisions I took were for her, but I discovered someone else had already provided her with food."
Celebhil shook his head free of the unwanted memory upon hearing Legolas' answer to his unspoken inquiry. He nodded, and focused his mind on what it was Legolas was telling him. A hundred questions bombarded his mind.
"Then you have spoken with her? Who is she? What did she say? Why is she here?"
"Please, Celebhil," Legolas pleaded, raising his hands to block the barrage of questions. "Between you and the Call of the Sea...."
All thoughts, all questions were suddenly swept away from Celebhil's mind. An empty feeling seemed to fill his stomach.
"A jest, my friend, but one made in poor taste," Legolas said apologetically. He reached out a hand and placed it upon Celebhil's, squeezing it gently. "Forgive me."
Celebhil looked into the prince's eyes and saw the regret they held, and the sorrow barely hidden underneath. It seemed ill to him. That Legolas was able to make light of the Call of the Sea should be promising, something that spoke of his coming to terms with it, or at least having some control over it. However, it had hurt Celebhil, for what reason he knew not, that he should be associated with it, even if it was only a jest. Legolas loathed its Call, and it weighed heavily upon his mind and his heart. It was a strange affliction, for he knew of others who anticipated its Call and would welcome it with open hearts when finally awakened within them. As for himself, Celebhil neither dreaded nor looked forward to it; it was simply a fact of life and one he would accept if and when it stirred within him. But he was different from Legolas; he had not the mortal ties Legolas had.
Celebhil grasped Legolas' hand in return of the gesture and then let go. He smiled weakly, nodding for Legolas to continue spinning his tale.
The horse hesitated momentarily as her rider led her by the reins through the thick wood. Here, the forest floor was rugged and uneven, and the foliage dense. Bright sunlight somehow managed to fashion a path through the almost impenetrable canopy, piercing through gaps and holes of the interlaced boughs with shafts of yellow light. It was tempting at times to step into one of those radiant beams, to linger there in its warmth, to gaze through it and out at the surrounding beauty, the contrasting colors of bark and leaves and dirt and grass muted slightly yet made all the more glorious by its seemingly other-worldliness.
But neither the rugged terrain of the forest floor nor the beauty of the wood was what caused the horse to hesitate. She was somewhat familiar with this path and had to give little thought to where she should place her steps, as her rider led her masterfully. She had traveled across much rougher terrain than this, and so this part of their journey proved to be no challenge for her. Indeed, it was just another pleasant outing. The temptation to stop and enjoy the scenery held no sway over her, for she was a horse, and as a horse, she had only one objective—to reach her destination. Nay, the horse had stopped because she had sensed it too.
Aragorn shifted his attention away from the casual talk of the guards who lead their horses in like manner and focused it instead on the trees above him. Roheryn's brief pause only confirmed his suspicions. True, he was just a man and thus had not really sensed their presence, but he had been raised among elves and that counted for something. He knew they were being watched and he knew their progress through the wood was being tracked. The company was finally drawing close to the elven settlement, and he knew it would not be long until the watchers would make their presence known. He also had a good idea how they planned to do it.
A melodious twitter sounding like one of the many songbirds that inhabited the forest rang from the trees ahead of the company. Behind them, another songbird echoed the short tune. Aragorn felt the edges of his mouth curve into a tight smile and his eyes narrowed. He studied the trees above him, scrutinizing their branches as they swayed in the gentle breeze, and then turned his gaze to his six guards who still chatted idly. They're oblivious. Aragorn breathed a silent snort, feeling pride well up inside him. He should not fault them for their ignorance, he kept reminding himself. After all, they were men of Minas Tirith. They had spent their entire lives within the stone walls of the White City or on the fields of battle. They had little experience interacting with the other races of Middle-earth, and even less traveling within the borders of their realms. Aragorn stifled another chuckle and then spent several minutes suppressing the arrogance stirring within him. The size of your head will soon begin to rival Haldir's if you are not careful. All the same, it brought a twisted sense of justice to the king, knowing his guards—valiant men sworn to protect and defend their king—would in fact be caught off guard.
Leaves rustled in the wind and drew Aragorn's gaze to the trees overhead once again. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, debating for a moment if he should warn the others. They should be dropping down right about—
Suddenly and silently an elf landed directly in front of him, an arrow fitted to the string of his bow, the pointed tip mere inches from the amused expression playing across Aragorn's face.
Now, Aragorn finished the thought, feeling quite pleased with himself for having perfectly anticipated the timing and location of the elf's appearance and for drawing his sword so quickly. His eyes darted to the left and right to take in his guards, caught severely unawares just as he had predicted, some still in the process of clumsily unsheathing their swords, some trying to calm the horses. The guards were clearly alarmed by the abrupt appearance of the elf, and they seemed to be more than a little flustered and unsure how to react. A feeling of satisfaction washed over the king.
Aragorn brought his gaze back to the elf before him, whose own gaze flittered between the man's eyes and what the man held against the seam of his leggings.
"Well met, King of Gondor," the elf greeted, forgoing the customary elven salutation of an elaborate bow but favoring a curt nod of his head instead.
"Well met, indeed," Aragorn replied, flashing a toothy grin, wondering how long it would take the elf to directly acknowledge the fact that Aragorn held him at his mercy. Roheryn whickered beside him.
"You are needlessly reckless, Mordil," a voice called out from the trees overhead in playful admonishment. Aragorn watched as a young elf maiden revealed herself, emerging gracefully from the tightly packed inner branches of one of the oak trees. "Celebhil would not be pleased if he found you could no longer perform certain duties."
Aragorn raised an eyebrow at the elf. Mordil made to shrug his shoulders in response but quickly cut the action short, realizing the king had yet to retract his blade.
"My liege?"
Aragorn looked over at the captain of his guard who had come to stand beside him. Bertrand's normally calm voice was laced with worry, and his doubt on what to do was written plainly on his face. Aragorn noted the captain, as well as the others, had their swords drawn and were prepared to defend their king should more elves be dropping down from the forest canopy.
"It's alright, Bertrand," Aragorn chuckled. "Have the men stand down," he continued as he drew back his sword and sheathed it, much to the relief of the elf in front of him. "Mordil was just being remarkably elvish, but I'm sure he'll think twice before pulling a stunt like that again. Won't he?" Aragorn questioned, giving the elf a disciplining look.
"Perhaps," Mordil replied casually, his once tense body relaxing considerably.
"King Elessar is right, Mordil," the elf maiden scolded, dropping down to the forest floor in such quick fluidity that it seemed she had been there the entire time. Her form seemed to sift itself out of the shadows of the trees as she walked over to them, allowing Aragorn to recognize her as Daewen. She had accompanied Legolas once many years ago to Minas Tirith out of a desire to aid her prince in his completion of Arwen's garden and to experience a world beyond her own; she had also been present at all the feasts Legolas hosted whenever Aragorn visited the elven settlement. "You must be more careful, for other's sakes as well as your own," she went on, tweaking Mordil's nose lightheartedly as she came to stand beside him. Then, turning her attention to Aragorn, asked, "To what good fortune do we owe this visit from the king?"
Aragorn pondered briefly how to answer her question as her crystal blue eyes gazed into his. Talathion had mentioned that the only one other than him who knew of Legolas' decision to leave was Celebhil. He did not wish to be the one to bear the news of their prince's departure.
"I've come to visit friends," he eventually answered, deciding to be honest, but not entirely forthright. "It is good to see you again, Daewen," he greeted her, bringing his hand to his heart and bowing. "And you as well, Mordil," he said, placing the elf in a headlock and mussing his dark brown hair.
Daewen's tinkling laughter chimed in the forest air as Mordil struggled and finally broke away from the king's hold. Aragorn was gifted with a glare that really couldn't be called a glare as it was a look that conveyed much bewilderment as well.
"I think you have Legolas to blame for helping him become adept at that move," Daewen surmised. "Him, or the twin lords. No doubt King Elessar had many years of practice in Lord Elrond's household in which to develop the skills necessary to hold an elf in a headlock."
"The twin lords would be my guess," Mordil said, running his fingers through the long strands of now-tangled hair. "They are a dreadful duo," he finished with a grimace, as if he were reliving some experience from not too long ago.
"Nay," Aragorn said with a smile on his lips. "Imagine the sons of Elrond and King Thranduil's youngest working their mischief together and you as their victim, then you will have it."
Mordil laughed. "I do not doubt it. At such times, one would be wise to immerse themselves in the affairs of state and spend their days in court where the watchful eyes of Lord Elrond or King Thranduil could possibly protect them from the terrible trio. Even the endless hours of hearing petitions and amending declarations are not as awful as the trouble they three leave in their wake."
"On that I would argue with you, Mordil, as of late," Aragorn said in a low voice, but chuckled anyway. His life had turned out to be more than he ever expected. It was true he lost dear friends along the way. Whether it be to their falling in battle or to their seeking peace and freedom from life's woes and pain across the Sea, it mattered not. The loss of their friendship was felt equally, regardless of the circumstances. True also, there were days he felt much like his wife and desired to be free from the cold confines of the White City's stone walls, and live the uncontrolled life of a Ranger once more. However, Aragorn had gained much along his journey to the throne—strengthening and establishing deep friendships, not only with Legolas and Gimli, but also with King Eomer and Princes Faramir and Imrahil. A dream, one he had thought never to make real, had become reality upon his marriage to Arwen, and their love had given him a son, filling him with a feeling which could never be fully conveyed with words or in song. Though there were days when marital bliss was not to be found within their household, those days served to remind them of the everlasting love they shared with another, and the making up was well worth enduring the daunting glares and the seemingly incurable wrath of the Evenstar. The White City had regained its towering glory, greatly due to the work of Gimli and Legolas for which he was ever grateful. Its pinnacles stood tall as a beacon in the west, displaying to all that Men, nay, the Free Peoples had triumphed over Shadow. In further consideration of it all, Aragorn could only take great pride in all that he accomplished in his life and within Minis Tirith and the Reunitied Kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor.
"Legolas, I am certain, would agree with you, King Elessar," Daewen said.
Aragorn smiled thoughtfully. Legolas would agree with him on many things.
"Does the prince know of your coming? He failed to mention it to us," the maiden continued when Aragorn said nothing in reply.
"Nay, he does not," Aragorn answered with a shake of his head. "When did you last see the prince?" he inquired, feeling a small flame of hope trying to spark itself deep down. She said Legolas had failed to mention anything. Does that imply she had just recently seen him? Perhaps he was not too late to bid his friend farewell.
"The prince graced us with his presence at the planting ceremony. That took place not two suns ago. He left shortly after," Daewen said. "I know not why. Only Celebhil saw him go, and he would say nary a word as to why Legolas left so soon." The young she-elf looked considerably on Aragorn as the flame of hope sizzled out with her words. "Something's amiss," she whispered.
Mordil shot her a look; what emotion ignited it, Aragorn knew not. It was unreadable to him which surprised him somewhat. Having been raised among elves, he was possibly the only mortal gifted in reading the looks of elves, save Gimli perhaps; but Gimli's ability only applied to reading Legolas' looks. Aragorn had been exposed to the glances and gazes of many elves in his lifetime, and over that time knowledge of what a quirk of an eyebrow meant, or what a sparkle in one's eye alluded to, was almost innate at this point. Of course, there were still some of Arwen's looks of which he had yet to learn the meaning. Aragorn dismissed Mordil's look, but decided it would be wise to steer their conversation away from Legolas.
"Did Talathion pass this way?" he asked.
"Nay," Mordil said with his brows knitting together, followed by a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. "However, we are not the ones to ask. Daewen and I are not the ones patrolling the Eastern Wood."
"Then have they?" Aragorn questioned further, indicating with a jerk of his head the trees above where he was certain elves waited unseen.
The light in Mordil's brown eyes twinkled in response. "Ask them," he simply said.
Aragorn sighed. This one was definitely a Wood-elf to the core. "Have you?" he called out overhead, his eyes roaming over the trees, searching for a sign of their presence. He did not miss the strange looks he got from all six guards who stopped their whispered talk upon his shout.
"Nay, no sign of the prince's warder have we seen," a voice answered back somewhere from the branches of a tall oak some fifteen feet ahead. Aragorn swore he could hear snickering. From where exactly, he knew not.
"Why do you ask?" Mordil said, a gleam stealing into his eyes. "Have you long missed the prince's warder since your last encounter with him? I heard tell he was quite enamored by the hospitality of your city, especially that shown to him by the fair maidens of your race."
Aragorn made to answer, but only shook his head and gave a small smile at the elf's comment. All this time, Daewen had stood silent and watched him, and Aragorn finally became aware of it. The she-elf nodded to him as if she had been gifted with some understanding, and turned to Mordil.
"Perhaps you should bear ahead and bring tidings of King Elessar's arrival to the colony," she said, addressing Mordil. "I will escort the king and his men to Edhilbar. Our travel will progress slowly through what remains of this winter bracken, and you will have plenty of time to arrange for their quarters to be put in order, as well as alert the kitchen to prepare a fine dinner this night."
Mordil's eyes searched Daewen's for a moment. Then he nodded and quickly leapt up into the oak from which he had dropped, disappearing back into its branches. The trembling of limbs and the quivering of leaves above the rugged path, if it could be called a path, further ahead was the only indication of the elf's swift passage through the trees.
Daewen turned to Aragorn, and he smiled faintly at her. She knew. He looked over to his guards. Bertrand met his gaze and nodded, understanding his king's silent command. The captain spoke some words to the others and soon they were ready to continue on their way.
The young elf maiden walked beside Aragorn as he led Roheryn through the forest. No words passed between the two for a time. Aragorn was hesitant to breach the silence, for in all his dealings he knew it was best to leave an elf alone with her thoughts until the elf was willing to share those thoughts.
"Your city celebrates the destruction of the One Ring in a few days, yet you come here," Daewen finally said.
Aragorn scratched Roheryn's neck, saying nothing in reply as they continued to walk along.
"Legolas, to the surprise of us all, shows up and performs the planting ritual, the only time he has ever done so since the establishment of Edhilbar," she continued. Aragorn could see the details spinning through her mind, falling into all the right spaces. "Celebhil dismisses himself early from the plantings." Daewen's head shook slightly from side to side. "Only one reason do I see for the coinciding of these events within a manner of days," she said, turning her gaze from the forest floor onto Aragorn. "He will be departing soon."
Aragorn let out his breath heavily. He knew she would figure it out; it had been useless to try and keep it from her, for she was both observant and intelligent. The King of Gondor and Arnor did not often visit the elves of Ithilien, much to his disappointment, and certainly he did not do so when his duties as king required him in his city, with his people. Only grave matters could call him away.
"That is what Talathion reported to me when he came to Minis Tirith yesterday," he replied. "He knew not how soon. I left in all haste hoping to see him one last time."
He waited for her response to his words, but she gave none. Her expression remained unchanged as he watched her alongside, but nothing about her manner or conduct gave insight into what she was feeling.
"I am sorry," he finally said, unable to undergo the weighty silence any longer. What prompted his apology, he was not rightly sure. It might have been more for his ears than for hers. Aragorn knew not the extent of her relationship with Legolas. He could tell she held great admiration for her prince, and great affection too, though she always acted rather natural and cool in Legolas' presence. Whether she felt something more for Legolas, and he in turn for her, Aragorn was never quite certain. Indeed, Legolas was highly revered by all his people, and Aragorn was not oblivious to some of their ploys for his attention or affection. Nevertheless, it always seemed to him that Daewen was content with sharing only a deep friendship with the prince, which esteemed her greatly to the king.
"Long have we known this day would come," she finally said, breaking Aragorn's thoughts. "Some have feared it more than others, but all will be filled with sadness upon his leaving."
"Have you feared it?" he asked gently.
"Nay, but it saddens me greatly. He does not wish to leave. He leaves much behind. It is ill that he should have been afflicted with the sea-longing just as he discovered so much joy still to be had in Middle-earth."
Aragorn winced slightly at her words.
"My apologies, my lord king," she said hastily, stopping their steps and placing her hand gently upon his arm. "I place no blame on you. It is not by your design that the sea-longing was awakened within him. You must believe this and heed not what others may tell you." Her blue eyes met with Aragorn's and gazed deeply into them. "Legolas knew the warning; it was ever in his heart. This he has told me. Also he told that it was loyalty to you and your cause that allowed him to push aside his fear and doubt and follow you, and that he would make the same choice again."
Her words soothed his troubled heart, and he smiled his thanks to her.
"I would bear it for him," she said, shaking her head as they began their journey toward the village again.
Aragorn glanced questionably over at her. The sea-longing was undoubtedly something which he would never fully understand, indeed something no mortal could ever understand, just as no elf could fully understand a mortal's death. Some seemed to fear the day when it would be awakened in them; others looked forward to the day when the urge to seek passage across the Sea would stir within their souls; and some, like his foster brothers, paid it no heed whatsoever.
"Thrice have I journeyed south to the shores of the Bay of Belfalas. Thrice have I gazed out at the sea, feeling the warm water lapping upon my feet, tasting the spray of salty mist within my mouth, hearing the lonely cries of the gulls.... And thrice have I returned the same as when I left." Daewen shook her head and let out a mirthless laugh. "Not even I understand this yearning inside me," she said to him, again shaking her head. "It delights me to no end that I should be present in Middle-earth to see the dawning of the Age of Men, to be a part of Ennor's restoration. Yet I ache in want to see the shores of Valinor, to behold its majestic mountains and its verdant pastures, to be reunited with my mother and my father."
Aragorn listened intently to her. He wondered if Arwen ever felt this way and this deeply. Daewen's talk served to remind him again of the sacrifice she had made because of her love for him. He knew she too yearned to see her father and her mother. She had cried long upon his shoulder one night shortly after the birth of Eldarion, so grieved was she that the child would never met his grandparents. Aragorn had found no words to comfort her, and only held her the entire night, offering the comfort of his strong embrace and his chaste kisses instead. She had cheered considerably upon her brothers' arrival to the White City the next week, but still Aragorn could sense her sadness. Ever since, when he looked upon her and their son, sorrow filled his heart.
"Do you think it will ever be awakened within me?" Daewen questioned him, interrupting his silent ponderings.
"You are asking the wrong person," he said, trying to sound lighthearted. "Mortals, even one such as me, know little of the sea-longing."
She laughed, again mirthlessly, and sighed. "Forgive my melancholy. I should not burden you with my musings."
"No apology is necessary, my lady. Your musings distract me from the burdens of my own," he said, a smile on his face.
The corners of Daewen's lips curved up and the she-elf made to reply. Instead, she turned abruptly to face the south.
"What is it?" Aragorn asked in a hushed voice, raising a hand to halt the guards who walked some distance behind them. His other hand found the hilt of his sword. Roheryn neighed fitfully.
"Nothing to fear," she replied, placing her hand over his in effort to calm him and stop him from drawing his sword. She closed her eyes, extending her elven senses and concentrating on the sounds of the forest. "A horse, I think, draws near."
They waited and watched the wood. Soon he heard the rustling sounds that had alerted Daewen. Aragorn was still somewhat tense, but he trusted Daewen and he truly felt no danger. A smile eventually twitched Daewen's lips and Aragorn squinted into the forest, trying to discern what it was she saw. Finally, he caught the sight of white flashing between the greens and browns of the forest bramble.
"It is Arod!" Daewen exclaimed as the horse cleared the last of the thicket and made his way over to them.
"Arod?'' Aragorn whispered, trying to unravel the meaning of the appearance of Legolas' horse. Roheryn greeted the horse with playful nudges, which he returned with equal merriment. "Do you often let the horses run free?" he asked Daewen, a sinking feeling invading his stomach.
"Nay. Many are still out with the planting teams, but Arod stayed behind. He deems himself too fine a steed to be used as a mule horse," she answered with a laugh, scratching underneath the horse's muzzle. Arod protested when her scratches suddenly stopped. "You think this ill," Daewen said, her smile fading.
"I don't know. Legolas has let him run free before...," Aragorn said, his voice trailing off.
"But he may have freed him because he has already departed," Daewen finished for him.
Aragorn's eyes locked with hers. Quickly they resumed their journey through the forest toward Edhilbar once again, this time at a hastened pace.
Quite note from PP: I had told this author quite a while ago I would plug her amazing LotR stories. Well, Ithilien beat me to it, but I'm going to plug her anyway because her stories are fantastic. Go read the works of Teanna, http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=290949. They are rich in detail and description and have lovely characterizations of our favorite elf. You'll love them.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I love you all! I have to especially thank the new reviewers, whose recent interest in this story kicked me in the butt and got me to push aside Elrohir and Elladan and let Legoals have his way with me for a time again. Thanks also to Blushing Bottom for the email!
TreeHugger: Talathion is seriously blushing over here. He's got a crush on you, too, I think. Wait, just a sec. [Ok...yup...OK, I'll ask her. Now, go away!] Ah...Tree—Talathion wants to know if you're free next Friday. What should I tell him? That part with the elves traveling towards the Grey Havens was sad, wasn't it? I have to admit, the extended DVD did have some influence on both last chapter and this one. You can't help but feel sympathy, for the elves and for Aragorn. Yes, Celebhil is indeed faster than Legolas. Legolas can't be the best in everything, you know. That would make him a Marty Stu. ::grin::
Mija: Let me assure that there will be no slash in this story. The only thing Legolas and Celebhil share in this is a very deep friendship. Legolas shall not be slashed, I promise. The Legomance definitely involves a het pairing. And I also promise there will be a Legomance part of this tale. I know it's taking me a long time to actually get there, but it is coming, and it will come fast and hard when it does.
Daughter of Gorlois: Thank you for coming out of the shadows of Silent Readerdom to review. Heh—sometimes I have absolutely no idea where this is going either. I do know the ultimate outcome and know pretty much how it gets there, but sometimes my characters decide to take little detours along the way. So I have a "lingering" style? I loved that descriptor; thank you so much. Incidently, as I was writing this chapter, I had a strong feeling my style changed. I wonder if you get that sense at all.... I have given a lot of thought to Celebhil and Legolas, and I do believe I will write their story when this one is finished. Thanks for your encouragement!
YellowSun: Dude, I know. Now, why don't all those dreams about me and the elf come true? Yes, elves are children; some like to call them elflings. Why doesn't it surprise me that you like Celebhil? Talathion does need a hug, but I don't think he'll let anyone get close enough to give him one...unless it's Tree. I'm glad to hear the theory still holds.
Stimpy: LOL, sometimes this story is a mystery to me—hence, the month between postings. Be careful what you say about Celebhil there. We don't want your words coming true now, do we? ::grins mischievously::
al and Legolas: ::PP laughs maniacally:: Heh. But I think you need to ask how ever did Talathion manage with the poor lass, that is until she found out it wasn't really Legolas. Because you know how rabid those women can be. ::grin:: And Celebhil and Legolas have played many a game, sometimes against each other, sometimes working together against someone else. So I will eventually tell you about some of them. And the jaybird was just for you, nin mellon. So I'll even let you pretend you were the jaybird. You're back, Legolas! I waited just for you to post this, melethron. Well, no, you can blame the long delay on both Elladan and Elrohir and your evil brother who abandoned me for warmer weather. Anyway, you're back so now we can have all the bellybutton drinks we want! ::drool::
P.S. And thanks for the title, al!
Elf of Sirannon: When last you reviewed, you were at chapter two. I hope you've made it here. Let me know. ::grin:: Legolas is sweet. That's funny; I prefer him with mortals too. I don't know why. Maybe it's because it's easier for me to imagine myself as that character. ::cheeks turn pink, tries to hide in shame:: However, are you certain this is a Legolas/mortal pairing?
jenolas: I'm sure a lot of people wish Talathion would take the next boat to anywhere. Those people will regret that later on. ::grin:: Legolas, being infuriating?! Yes, I guess so. But we still love him, right? You'll feel sorry for him soon enough. Yes, I was the fish. And I have just one word of comment: "Yum." :)
Ithilien: Yes, my question about Arwen was answered. Thank you! Talathion is uptight; I know some of his reasons, but not all. I will remember to ask him. I think he is one of those older elves who is just very rigid in his ways and he has to have a hand in everything, even though he knows he shouldn't. Also, I think he is compensating for past mistakes; he's got control issues now. His part is not finished at all, but I think he'll step back into the shadows for a little bit. Celebhil did reach rather long, and Legolas knows this, but Legolas wants to make it up to his friend. He knows his sea-longing causes emotional turmoil for others too. As you can see though, he tries to keep the tale from Celebhil a little longer. Heh. No, losing all these possessions was not in my grand scheme. The knife, yes. The cloak, yes. The clothing, yes. His bow and quiver, no. That was an oversight at the time, but I kind of like how I had to make up for it. Regardless, Sorry Legolas!
VladimirsAngel: Thank you for reading and reviewing and for loving Talathion! He's getting visions of starting a fan club soon. I'm sure everyone will scooch over and make room for you on the bench. I'm glad you've joined!
Rashaka: Thank you for your great review. I feel especially honored about what you said about my dialogue. I put a lot of thought into trying to find the characters' voices and getting the conversations to flow naturally. I just couldn't allow the mysterious woman to dominate this story just yet. Reason number one being is that we are all here to read about our favorite elf, not her. Reason two: well, her story would be quite boring if I told it all from her perspective just yet, for both obvious and not-so-obvious reasons. Really, she's just been sitting out there in that glade, wandering around, looking at the flora, watching the fish. Who would want to read about that? I certainly wouldn't. And I certainly don't want to write it. She will begin to take a bigger part in this story soon, and the Legomance will jump into full swing after that. Get your Mary Sue bashers out!
Melian: Better late than never, nin mellon. I'm glad you're back! Indeed, Poor Faramir! (copyright Melian) I doubt that I'm in the position to distribute copyrights, but you do so love him, so it's yours in my book. Now where to begin in responding to your review?! You make some many good observations and insights. Talathion is indeed a complex character, and he only revealed some of his motives for wanting Legolas to remain in Ennor. He has much more in store for us, but he's off taking a little vacation right now. Aragorn and Legolas certainly need a break from him. And who wouldn't want to hang out wherever Legolas is?! I'm surprised al and YD haven't gotten into serious trouble because of breaking fire code. As I told DoG, I'm giving much thought to Legolas and Celebhil; be patient. I couldn't believe Legolas lost the bow either. Legoals was in BIG trouble the day he pointed that fact out to me. Thanks for review and your emails. We've got lots to discuss. :)
