Authors note: Warning in advance, I will have no computer access until April, so this is it for a while. A short while, but a while for those of you who are impatient.
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They changed positions tonight as they came in to sit before me. The eldest sat in the window seat, her head back so she could see the stars as well as me by simply moving her eyes, the fire's warmth not reaching her enough to make removing her night cloak a good idea. The middle child was resting on her stomach on my bed, her arms folded beneath her, her feet dangling in the air. Their little brother sat on the floor in front of the bed, leaning his head back from time to time to see his sisters. The girl on the bed would sometimes play in his hair, braiding small pieces of the silvery blond hair until his entire crown was captured in plaits.
"Now, where was I?" I asked, not because I had forgotten, but because I wished them to tell me, so I knew how well they had listened, and how they were disposed towards the story tonight. Sometimes I had to change my story for a night, or simply not tell them one because something had happened in the between time that made them unwilling to listen. I was not going to waste my breath only to have them ask me all about it again the next night.
The boy chirped up, much to my surprise. His sisters must have gotten to him a little, for he had to force the boredom into his voice. "He had just gotten her out of the closet," he explained dully.
"No, she was telling us why Salan and Legolas were sent to spend time together in the first place," his sister retorted, dropping another braid back against his head. "Were they betrothed?"
The eldest rolled her eyes, not bothering to turn her head to see her young siblings. "They did not betroth children then, you silly elf child."
"Didn't they nana?"
"Yes they did," I agreed, getting the eldest to look at us in surprise.
The younger stuck her tongue out at her sister, who rolled her eyes and turned her head to the window, the perfect picture of casual indifference.
"But not for princes or princesses. Even when a betrothal was made, it was always in the power of the young ones to call it off if they wished."
A small smirk crossed the elder's face, but, knowing it was unladylike to brag, she said nothing, continuing her watch of the stars and moon, welcoming the halo that glowed on her cast silver hair.
"Get on with it, nana," he implored impatiently, squirming a bit as his sister picked up another section of hair, not wanting all of his hair to end up braided as it had once not long ago. He had forgotten about the braids until the next morning, and had only the time to undo them before he had to go to breakfast with his hair crinkled and fluffy…very undignified, even for an elf child.
"Don't be rude," his sister snapped from the window.
He sighed. "Please, nana?" he pleaded with me, using his large bright eyes.
I smiled. "Very well. Now then… Oh, yes. He let her go into the forest…"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Prince Legolas allowed Salan to ride into the forest with him, but he was not always perfectly congenial to her company. Though he had learned something about being nice, he was far from being the kind hearted elf you all know and love today. Youth was still its blinding self, drawing about him in a thick cloak of self-assuredness that bordered on cockiness.
Sometimes he would do whatever he could to torment her, merely for the sake of reminding her he did not really want her along. His inspiration came one day from seeing her stomp on a small spider in the palace halls before she turned to walk down the hall to the dining hall.
A wicked grin spread over his face as he recalled often seeing her go wide eyed at seeing a spider, either killing it quickly or simply walking out of the room, refusing to go back. Ah, he thought, revenge can be so sweet.
Because of the evil things that lived in the forest of Mirkwood, the children were not supposed to travel very far into it, certainly not to the point where the darkness covered the path. That they could do when they were much older, and had been well trained in the art of archery and sword play. But at that time, though they both wore a sword, neither knew well how to use one.
Thoughts of the danger did not enter his mind, just thoughts of the sweet revenge he would inflict upon his often unwanted companion. He led his horse deeper into the forest than they were supposed to go, knowing well the thoughts that would be swimming in her head. It was common, even natural for all elves to feel disgust and maybe even fear when thinking on the giant spiders that lived in the dark hollows of the forests, or even on the orcs who occasionally wandered beneath the black boughs.
Salan and her horse paced restlessly at the edge of the darker woods, knowing quite well that they were not to go this far into the forest. Still, the fear of being left behind so close to the edge, and maybe a little well-placed concern for the prince led her into the darkness, though thoughts of those spiders, so much larger than was she, made her tremble in sheer terror.
She knew he was doing it merely to torment her, but she could no more ride back and inform the king that she had left his only son and heir traveling deeper into the darkness of Mirkwood than she could shake the shudders that wracked her frame when she thought about coming close to those hideous creatures every elf that came upon them did their best to slaughter. Those spiders, and orcs, of course, were the only creatures upon which the elves of Mirkwood had no mercy. The dark creatures felt the same way about the elves.
Trying to suppress another shudder she urged Tinyal into the darkness, her ears soon picked up on the soft hoof beats of Ailin even as her eyes picked up his trail. Swallowing hard when the sound of steps stopped, she urged Tinyal faster, despite the nervousness the horse had picked up from her rider.
They came upon Legolas and Ailin standing still, both apparently listening, waiting, alert and wary. Tinyal skittered nervously to the side, but Salan recovered her control, speaking softly even as she encouraged her mount to move forward. "Legolas—" she started, but he held up a hand, cutting off her words. He looked so intensely focused, which was so unusual for him that it frightened her.
"Do you hear that?" he asked softly, tilting his head slightly towards her, the tip of his ear pointing at the tree behind her.
All she could hear was the pounding of her own heart as it seemed to creep up into her throat. "No. We must go back, Legolas," she insisted, starting to turn Tinyal, who was beginning to protest carrying such a shaky and nervous rider.
"I hear something," he murmured, holding up his hand once more. "A soft hiss, perhaps."
All the stories she had ever heard, from scouts, guards and their nana tumbled through her brain, increasing her shaking. Part of her knew there was a very good chance he was still doing it all just to torment her, but enough of her was beyond such reason, knowing that there were spiders and they could run into them very easily in this dark place of the forest. She could see a few web bits hanging from some of the tree branches. The sight made her shake harder.
Slowly Legolas turned to face her, his eyes widening in horror as he looked behind her.
She spun around, making Tinyal rear up even as her eyes searched for something behind her. She saw nothing as the world shifted and eventually stopped moving as she landed in the dirt, still seeing nothing behind her. Stunned, scared beyond reason or anger, his laughter slowly penetrated the fog that had seeped into her mind as it tried to deal with her fear and the pain, not to mention embarrassment, that came from being thrown from her horse.
Salan blinked and looked around her, making sure she was on the ground even as she searched the trees around her for signs of life. Her eyes grew wide as she looked past Ailin and Legolas. "Legolas?" she breathed softly, still prone upon the ground.
He didn't even bother to control his mirth. "I am not about to fall for it, just because you did," he told her smugly. His grin informed her he couldn't wait to tell everyone Tinyal had thrown her. To be thrown was a great source of embarrassment for elves, more so then than it is now, even.
But she was past noticing that, her eyes fixed in horror on the large black body that slowly made its way closer and closer to the smirking prince. Finally she reacted, drawing her sword just as the hairs on Legolas's neck began standing up, feeling something behind him. He would have been too late, and if not for Salan, I would not be telling you this story, for the prince would not have lived to his thousandth year.
She got to her feet and drew her sword at the same instant, throwing it with deadly accuracy that came mostly from adrenaline, and partly from the cook teaching her how to throw kitchen knives one day when Legolas had left her behind. The spider hissed and fell from the tree, its long legs kicking as it wriggled in agony. Ailin reared up and left Legolas in the dust beside the creature, his eyes wide as the legs fastened on him before going strangely still.
Salan had recovered her sword and plunged it through the creature once more, speeding up the creature's death. When she looked at him, Legolas felt like sinking into the ground, unable to look for the censure, the anger, the disgust he deserved to see in her eyes, which had instead remained endlessly deep, impenetrable when he finally gathered the strength and will to look. As she held out a hand he hesitantly took it, finding himself soon on his feet. They began walking back, both wary and alert even when past the darkness of the deep forest, for they knew they could easily have been followed.
At the first patch of green grass Salan cleaned her sword, sheathing it quickly as they came into sight of the mountain. Searchers hailed them quickly, and they were rushed into the palace, to the throne room where their parents were waiting, four anxious faces, for the whole of the palace knew their horses had come back without riders, Ailin with blood upon him. Black blood.
After a round of embraces, they stepped back, and all noticed the blood upon the two young elves. "What happened?" the Queen asked, touching a streak of blood on Salan's cheek that marred the creamy skin.
"We wandered too deeply, my lady, and were attacked. Our horses fled from their fearful riders, but we managed to slay the creature without injury."
When the horror and fear gave way to pride as Thranduil looked at his son, Legolas could no longer bear it. "You managed," he corrected softly, lowering his eyes. "I would have been strung up if you had not been so quick." He looked up in time to see a blink of confusion, a look of speculation on her face.
She merely shrugged, though, and asked if they could bathe before being punished. Thranduil looked between them, seeing clearly the still pale faces that said they were still replaying what had happened in their minds. Legolas's eyes were the most haunted of the two, guilt added in with the remnants of fear. "The results of your actions have been punishment enough, in my opinion. Do you agree?" he asked her father.
Her father frowned slightly, but slowly bowed his head. "As long as they swear not to travel farther than they are allowed until their archery skills are deemed good enough for adequate protection."
"Of course, Father," she agreed, bowing her head. Legolas bowed beside her, and they were dismissed. Before she could leave the main hall to get to her room, Legolas grabbed her arm.
"Why did you not tell them it all?"
"Why should I have?" she countered. "You meant to torment me, it worked, and then we found ourselves in danger."
"Because of me."
"Yes. What of it? You would not do it again. You know it was your fault we were there, and even you are not so thick skulled to not realize it would not have happened if you hadn't lead me there."
"You followed," he protested with a frown, not willing to take all the blame.
"Was I supposed to leave the only heir to the throne alone in the darkness of the forest? Yes, I followed. I did not say it was your fault there was a spider where you chose to torture me. That was no one's fault." She pulled her arm loose, wisely leaving him to stew in his own juices as she did not add that they would not have met a spider at all, if he had simply continued where they were allowed to explore.
Legolas frowned after her, struck upside the head with the realization she had not followed him simply because she liked to follow him around, making his life miserable. She had followed because she knew it was dangerous in the woods. She had followed because she was worried for his safety, though he had considered neither his nor her safety when he strayed into the darkness.
After that, he couldn't find it within him to torment her so badly. He still tormented her of course, but in ways that were safe and allowed. Well, had their parents known he would have been scolded, reprimanded and punished over and over again, but they never found out about most of it, because she never told.
They fell into a routine after several years. After he ruined her breakfast by loosening the lid on something she would pour over it or by salting her plate before she even got to her food, they would get their horses and ride where they could. Sometimes the ride was an all day trip, but most times they were finished by lunch, which they shared from a pack she carried with her. After lunch, sometimes they would split up, but most days found them practicing on the archery field once they were old enough.
Competition was fierce, though she never said a word to provoke it. She would accept his challenges, rise to them with her eyes flashing, but she would refuse to bait him in return, making the enjoyment he found in taunting her diminish over time. They both did well in archery, but he was the better of them by far. She had one over on him with the blades, though. Whether sword, the twin daggers or throwing knives she always had an edge on him.
Probably because, unbeknownst to him, she had been practicing with them since he had first begun leaving her behind. She started with throwing knives, as you know, and then moved to the sword since her uncle was one of the instructors, but young enough to know what it was like to be left alone with nothing to do.
She never volunteered that information, just sparred with him when he wanted to spar, the match almost always ending with him pinned somewhere, a blade of some kind pressed to his throat. The throwing knives was considered a more feminine form of defense, so he never bothered challenging her in that. It wouldn't have been right for him to win.
After a victory on her part, he would challenge her to an archery match, merely so he could shore up his wounded pride at another failure. What he did not realize for many long years was she purposely neglected her practice of archery merely so he could beat her consistently without anyone being able to say she was throwing the matches. That was just her way. She was his strong, silent companion, who tempered his fierce sense of personal pride and slowly broke down all hints of spoiled selfishness so that by the time he was ten hundred years old, all knew he was well on the way to becoming a good and fair ruler.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A soft knock interrupted just as I would have finished anyway, so I called for the intruder to enter. "Mother!" the boy protested when the figure came in.
She laughed softly and shook her head at them. "I warned you it was early to bed tonight. There is much to do tomorrow." Her eyes sparkled in the light of the fire and the moon as she looked at her children. "Come on now, off to bed. Let nana get the sleep you need as well."
"But we were listening to nana—"
"Go on," I insisted, frowning slightly as they disobeyed.
Their mother lifted a brow at me, but was still smiling as she herded her children out the door. "Good night, nana," she murmured, stooping to kiss my cheek after the children were in the hall.
"Good night, my dear child."
Her laughter lit the room before she moved silently into the hall, just as three doors dutifully shut as she shut the door to my room.