Author's Note: Well, I'm back to sitting in front of a computer. I almost didn't get this up, because I took a reviewer's advice for my first story, and changed all the chapters to html, which is what I've been using for this story. Every two chapters, the site was over loaded and didn't want to let me upload, and I nearly said forget it to adding this chapter today, but I figure someone wants it. :]
As always, ideas, constructive criticism, and just ordinary reviews accepted and greatly appreciated.
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"All right now, where were we?"
The children looked at me, two eagerly, one with a frown on her fair face. "Nana," she asked softly. "You said Legolas was ten hundred years old. What about his brother? He was born before Legolas was that old, was he not? Shouldn't Legolas and Salan have been taking Harlyn with them?"
"I suppose I should backtrack a bit, and put in the siblings in the order they come in, but Harlyn was far too young to have gone with them, especially since they were training themselves for fighting by the time Harlyn was born."
"How old did they have to be to go exploring?" the boy asked, frowning.
"Children were generally required to be at least five hundred years old, and that was only in the more daring wood-elf families. Legolas wasn't allowed to go outside until he was, oh, around eight hundred years, or thereabouts. Salan was about six hundred and fifty, so I suppose Legolas must have been near eight fifty, come to think about it."
"Why so long?" he asked, his eyes wide with horror at the idea of being kept inside the safety of the palace for so long.
"Dear child, things there were not as they are here. There was darkness, the possibility of death. Orcs, spiders and other things of evil and bad magic roamed the world, most of them not liking the elves very much." To put it mildly. The thought of any elf being caught, much less a she-elf could still make me shudder. "Had they run into any of these things unable to defend themselves, I would not have a story to tell." I took a breath as his eyes widened farther, disbelief mingling with fear. "There is nothing to worry about here, which is why you were allowed to go outside so young," I added gently. "Things were very different on Middle-Earth, when we had to think about death as creatures around us, even our beloved friends and relatives, died."
"Elves don't die!" he protested at once.
"Don't you know anything of our history?" his eldest sister asked, scorn in her voice. "Elves can die of a broken heart or by a mortal wound. With creatures of darkness running around, the latter is occasionally guaranteed, which would sometimes cause the former. Now please, let nana continue."
I had to smile at her insistence I continue, for she had tried to distance herself even tonight from me, trying to establish she was becoming a true lady. "Well, my dears, how shall I proceed? Oh, Harlyn. All right, when Harlyn was born…"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Prince Harlyn was born not long after Legolas had begun to value Salan's company, though he dared not say anything of it. He missed her, since she spent a good portion of the morning with the Queen and her mother with his new brother. Only a few years had gone by before the small prince didn't need as much loving attention, though, so she returned to join him for walks or rides in the mornings, though lunch was now spent indoors, or in one of the few outside gardens with the Queen and the little prince.
Legolas loved his little brother, to be sure, but it would be a few hundred years before they could become true friends, since Harlyn was so much younger than Legolas. After all, a thousand year gap between children is a bit long even now. He was looking forward to having a male around, for he was certain there were certain things he could enjoy with a male that he could not with a female.
Whenever he thought about that, though, he would frown. He was, after all, considered an adult, albeit a young one. By the time Harlyn was allowed to ride in the forest, Thranduil would begin encouraging Legolas to take over some of his duties and responsibilities, including the finding of a bride.
"You certainly look cheerful," a familiar voice murmured from behind him on one such occasion as he scowled at the arrow he had just fired as if the look would move it to the center of the target, which it had not hit.
He shook his head, smiling slightly as Salan regarded the arrow with a teasing grin. "Just thinking ahead," he admitted, notching another arrow.
"What about?" she asked, waiting until the arrow had hit, in the center, of course, to speak.
"How I wish Harlyn was born when I was younger. Father shall begin pressuring me with duties before long, and I shan't have the time I would wish to spend with him in the woods."
"Surely you are mistaken. After all, Thranduil did not find his Queen until he was nearly four thousand years old. He cannot plan to pressure you as his father pressured him."
Legolas shrugged and released the arrow he had waited for her to finish speaking to let fly, out of politeness. "I know not, but I doubt I shall be as light hearted when Harlyn is eight hundred years old."
"The innocence of youth is spent before we know what we have, Legolas," she murmured, her eyes judging the distance between the arrows. Barely a hair's breadth between his two recent ones, but the others were scattered in a hands width radius from the center. "You must be worried indeed, for it to ruin your concentration in archery," she mused.
Legolas smiled slightly. "Think you could do better?" he teased softly.
"The way you're shooting today, I just might."
"Be my guest," he offered, handing over his bow since she had not brought hers.
She took the bow with a lift of her brow, taking an arrow with different colored feathers from his practice supply. She notched it quickly, though not as quickly as he did, and sent her arrow to the target, just a finger width away from his last arrow. Her next four were similarly well-placed. Though she never hit the exact center, they were so closely clustered they were not quite sure who won.
"I think you have improved in your lack of practice," he finally declared, walking beside her to study the target.
"And you have lost your touch for lack of competition, no matter how poor that competition may be," she retorted, shaking her head at the spread of her arrows. She still had not mastered the art. Except for today, and other days when he was annoyed, he had.
"Perhaps," he agreed softly, working his arrows free. For the rest of the afternoon the normal competitive drive kept him from thinking about the worries of the future. Still, as the dinner wore on that evening his eyes were drawn to his little brother, who was just old enough to sit at the table with the rest of them, his short little legs swinging beneath the table, occasionally kicking something, making the table shake. His big blue eyes would grow wide, and he'd glance around, but nobody seemed to have noticed.
Legolas smiled even as he sipped at his wine, for he recalled looking around for the same reason, nearly never finding anyone had noticed. It had made him feel clever, and perhaps a bit sneaky.
He frowned at his goblet as he mused that wasn't the best way for anyone, much less a prince, to feel, even in such extreme youth.
"Legolas, stop it," a voice muttered at his ear.
He blinked and turned to face Salan, whose chair had been moved to his side so he and Harlyn were facing each other. "Stop what?"
"Scowling. You were beginning to worry Harlyn," she murmured, motioning at the downcast face of his little brother with her eyes.
He winced and shoved his thoughts away. His participation in the discussion soon had Harlyn perked up, his eyes wide as he watched his older brother.
Salan smiled to see the two. Harlyn was undoubtedly a good representation of what Legolas had looked like at that age—almost cute! Legolas's stubbornness was still legendary, and once he was set on something, not even nana could dissuade him. Still, he had an undeniable soft spot for his little brother, which was obviously returned. Harlyn watched Legolas at every chance he was given, idolizing the prince with the innocence of youth, not understanding no one, even among the elves, was perfect. Nor that Legolas was not even near the top of the nearly perfect list.
Her smile faded as she thought about what had been troubling Legolas, for she knew something he didn't. The king had already planned for several of the Ladies of the kingdom to visit the palace for a while, hoping Legolas would find one to make a princess.
Personally, she thought it was much too early, but what could she say against the king? She wasn't even supposed to know, but it was sometimes incredibly hard not to eavesdrop. She had been in Harlyn's room, which was adjoined to that of the King and Queen because of his extreme youth, telling him one of the stories nana had told her and Legolas several years before, since he was still too young to go listen to her stories. Once he came up to her waist, he could go listen. Until then, he was stuck listening to Salan, for though she was earnest in her tales, and could hold him spellbound for a short while, she was not a master storyteller like their nana, for she had been telling stories since before Thranduil was young. She had been his nana, after all. In fact, she had been nana to many, many of the elves over the years, and her story list just kept on growing.
Anyway, Salan heard them discussing the impending swoop of ladies upon the prince. Salan had been startled, for it was hard to think of Legolas as old enough to marry since it had only been a little under a hundred years since he stopped trying to get rid of her all the time.
The morning after that dinner she watched Legolas as he went around, helping prepare for Harlyn's third birthday celebration. Quick to smile since he was in a good mood, he joked with the others as he rapidly did his part before slipping away to the practice field, picking his bow up from its resting place beside the wall on the way.
He had grown up. Some. Not enough to get married by any means, but enough he would undoubtedly charm any she-elf he had half a mind to.
The realization startled her into betraying her presence. He glanced over at her, and motioned her to join him with a tilt of his head. She shook her head, holding up the sewing she had been instructed to do. He gave her a sympathetic, yet cocky grin that said at the same time 'too bad', and 'I'm glad it's not me'.
That had made her smile before she returned to working, her back against the wall so she could still watch Legolas practice when she had a moment to glance up. A shadow fell over her work and she blinked, looking up to see he had stopped and was now leaning down, blocking her light as he studied her work. One finger traced the leaves that she had already stitched in nearly invisible stitches around the edge of the cloak she and her mother were making for Harlyn. It would only last him a few years before he grew out of it, but she knew he would enjoy it. She still had the one that had been made for her birthday. "I did not realize you knew how to do this," he murmured, lifting the material so he could see the full effect of the silvery thread on the dark green cloak. "It is very fine stitch work."
"Thank you," she murmured with a faint smile for the compliment. Coming from him, it was a rare treat indeed. "Mother has been teaching me for many centuries, a few minutes at a time. This is my first large project, though."
"Large?" he teased with a grin, holding up the small hood.
She rolled her eyes and took it away from him, motioning him out of the way of her light. He moved, sitting beside her so he could watch for a minute. She bit her lip, wondering if she should tell him about the conversation she had overheard. On the one hand, she had overheard it, and it hadn't been meant for her to hear. On the other, she felt it was almost a duty to tell him, since they had become friends, however much he had hated the idea of it to begin with.
"What is it?" he asked softly.
She blinked and looked down at the work. She hadn't moved in a while, so she jerkily continued, only her years of practice keeping her from messing up.
"Salan, what?"
She sighed, knowing she had no choice now. He had that tone in his voice, the 'I'm the stubborn prince so you may as well give in and save yourself the trouble' tone. "I was not entirely honest before," she murmured softly, frowning at her hands.
"About what?" he asked, obviously confused.
She sighed again, giving up on her stitches. "I overheard your parents when I told Harlyn a story the other night. They have already arranged for ladies to visit the palace."
When she looked up his had eyes widened, like a deer about to be hunted who can hear the baying of the hounds drawing closer, but unable to tell from which direction they come. He groaned softly and leaned back against the wall, his head falling back with a dull thud. "I am doomed, Salan."
She nearly laughed at the forlorn expression on his face, but he was too serious for her to do so. "Legolas, just because they come doesn't mean you have to do anything more than be polite…" she could help it no longer and began to laugh. "Though I realize that is a sacrifice for you."
Legolas glared at her, but slowly began to smile. He shook his head, the smile dying as her laughter faded. "He will not force me to marry," he insisted, his voice low. His eyes were dead serious, almost deadly in the burning anger. "I have no desire for female company, either. I wish to enjoy whatever is left of my youth." He jumped to his feet, nearly shaking in his anger.
"Legolas," she sighed softly. "You are no longer a child."
He blinked in surprise and turned to find her standing behind him. "Aren't you the one who claimed to be wiser that me?"
"Yes, and that may perhaps yet be, but you are not a child any longer. Young still, without a doubt, but not a child." It saddened her, somewhat, that they would no longer have their time together as nearly uninterruptedly as they had for the last decades.
His eyes searched hers for a long moment, and a slow smile melted a good portion of his anger away. He touched her cheek, a gentle, affectionate move he had not done before. "I have to wonder if you were ever a child, for if I no longer am one, you most certainly are not either."
She shook her head slightly. "Merely eight hundred am I, Prince Legolas. I have many years to go before child is no longer a term applied to me by all older than we are."
He closed his eyes, a slight frown gathering between his brows. His eyes were fierce when he looked at her. "You will never need my title," he insisted, before walking quickly away, leaving Salan with a slow smile replacing the startled look on her face.
Though he may not have called her his friend, he was certainly aware she was.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Knowing this was the best stopping place I could find for a long while, I ceased talking, watching as the young elves around me slowly blinked, bringing themselves back to the room. Then they all protested together.
"Nana!"
"You cannot be stopping already!"
"Keep going!"
"That is all for tonight, little ones," I insisted. "You have another long day tomorrow, after all." It was the anniversary of Legolas's wedding, in fact. Many long years had passed since that fateful day and year, but he still celebrated it with his wife, even if no one else would have joined in. They did, of course, many from the different realms, along with the hobbits and Gimli. "You do not wish your parents to be upset with me for your lack of sleep, surely?" I asked as they stayed where they had been, obviously having decided if they stayed long enough I would be coerced into continuing. Their parents could have told them that one would simply not work with me! As could their grandfather, in fact.
The boy got up first, his steps slow enough to assure me he was only going for my sake. "Good night, nana," he murmured, kissing my cheek before walking from the room, his sisters following quickly behind him.