"Please please please please please please please please please please please pleeeeeaase tell us the story now," the youngest pleaded as they hurriedly entered the room. "Please?" he repeated, as if I hadn't heard him before. He had started while coming down the hall.
"I won't say a word until you are all settled."
They dropped into place, the middle child sitting on the floor while her siblings laid on the bed, all watching me expectantly.
"Are you all comfortable?" I asked, drawing it out as long as I could.
"Nana," the eldest murmured, the word just short of a whine, rolling her eyes to try and assure me she knew what I was doing.
I had to smile, for in the tale of Legolas she had forgotten her attempts to become a proper lady. "Very well. Legolas excused himself from the celebration…."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Confusion began to win, doubts building in Legolas's mind as he thought about Salan and the way his spirits had lifted just by seeing her. She was the last one of those he had worried about that he had seen, after all, so couldn't it have just been that?
When the night had worn on enough that the days' travels combined with the tiring worry from the previous weeks caught up with him, he excused himself quietly, moving as unobtrusively from the hall as he could, not knowing he had gotten better at that while he was away.
Salan had caught him frowning from time to time, a slight haunted look in his eyes. She left not long after him when she had the chance, frowning to herself as she thought about that look, wondering what it was and what it meant. She had heard, through the rumor mill, about his return before he had even entered the palace, but she had been sure she would greet him improperly in front of Lemarha if she went to the throne room after his long absence, so she decided not to go, waiting instead for him to come to her.
Her breath had caught in her throat when she felt him watching her from the door, his soft scent of forests and rain proceeding him into the room. It had taken her a moment to gather the courage to look at him, to see if what was said about him was true.
It was. He had become the King he was born to be, strength and power radiating from him in waves that slipped over her, thrilling her as she knew he had truly grown up. At the same time, though, it saddened her, for her playmate of old was gone forever, not to be seen again.
Perfection was all she could say about the look in his eyes when she had seen them, for there was that new, unfamiliar power shining where before only the beginning glimmers had shown on worth while occasions, combining with the soft warmth telling her he had thought about her while he was gone.
The stars knew she had thought about him.
After all, he was the one closest to her in Middle-Earth…
Salan sighed softly and forced her mind back to the look that was haunting him, the look she had never seen in him before. She had seen many looks in her life, on many different elves, from fear that nearly equaled death and the fear of death, all the way to the strongest love seen among elves. But never such a haunted, hunted look. Which of course worried her, though she had no reason to be anything more than generally concerned for her friend, for his true strength assured he would most likely be fine, would recover with or without interference from her, from whatever it was that troubled him.
Assuring herself she would figure it out someday, and that she was in no hurry, she stretched out on her bed, slowly letting her eyes become unfocused, the soft patterns of colors swirling away from her consciousness as she began wandering into dreams without knowing that down a few halls, through a corridor on the other side of the east wing of the palace, an elfin prince was trying to do the same without success.
His thoughts kept pulling his mind back to her, his mind too frantic trying to come up with the elusive pure truth—ideas and concepts swirling too quickly on such circular paths he was back where he began seemingly before he started—that he could not force it to sleep, even as the moon began to sink in its path.
Salan suddenly bolted awake, her feet touching the floor before she had blinked to clear the dream fragments from her eyes. She was still dressed, since she had merely lain back to fall asleep, which was a good thing, because she was entirely unaware of anything as she ran from her room and down the halls until she was throwing open a door to the room it had been many long years since she had entered without knocking.
Legolas's head snapped around at the sudden intrusion, taking in the wide eyes which caught the embers of the fire, the flush on her cheeks and in her ears as she took rapid breaths. "Salan?" he asked softly with a frown as he swiftly got to his feet, "What is it?"
She looked at him, searching his eyes for he knew not what, before suddenly sinking down to the floor, drawing her knees to her chest, rocking herself ever so gently. He found himself in front of her before she had finished the initial action, shaking her shoulders slightly when she didn't answer. She took a shaky breath and lifted watery eyes to his, touching his cheek with a single finger, tracing down the curve of his jaw. "You feel the call," she whispered, a silvery tear trailing down her cheek as she whispered the words that were nearly a death sentence to any elf who wished to remain on these shores.
He had forgotten about that, the confusion of thoughts and emotions tumbling through him was so intense that he had not felt the call truly as anything other than a background annoyance, left out of consciousness like the sound of a brook nearby while one sat and read a great tale of adventure. He drew a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, easing his grip on her shoulders. "Yes. I stood on the shores of the sea, and have felt it since."
Salan's eyes were wide and worried. "How long will you remain here?"
With a frown he made himself more comfortable before her, his hands shifting from her shoulders to lightly hold her hands. "I cannot say. I do not plan to leave Middle-Earth that soon. As long as Aragorn lives, at least, I shall remain." He thought again about his plans, his noble aspirations of which the mere thought of could keep the call at bay. "I was in Fangorn forest, Salan. The things we could learn there… the very thought excites me."
"Then you do mean to leave Mirkwood," Salan murmured, seeing the shimmer of enthusiasm in his eyes.
Hesitating for a moment, he sought to explain it to her in a way she would understand what he wasn't entirely sure of himself. "The stories of Fangorn are not true. It is so old my father would feel young within it, such as did I, unlike I had since beginning the journey that brought us there." He frowned at a spot on the floor. "I said even then that in times of peace I could have been happy there. I believe that to still be true."
"And a king needs a kingdom," she murmured, seeing the change in him even as he sat on the floor, his clothing and hair disheveled, his silver-blue eyes too bright for thinking too hard, too fast and too long.
A frown once more hid his eyes in shadow, but looking at her now, he knew the answers to all the questions that had plagued him for so long. "Would you see them?" he questioned softly, uncertain of the asking for fear of the answer.
"Travel to Fangorn?" she asked, astonished at such an idea.
"The wood is not far from Lothlorien. You could see the Golden Wood as well. It would have to be soon, or the Lady will have made the crossing, but you must see the mellyrn trees in spring. You know the stories and songs probably better than do I. Does the thought not intrigue you?"
To see the Golden Woods? Lothlorien? The realm of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn? She had never been beyond Mirkwood, and the thought of leaving frightened her now even as it had when her parents thought to take her with them as they passed to the undying lands. "Legolas, I have never left Mirkwood! How could I go there?"
"Every journey begins with a single step, little one. You could go to Gondor, to Minas Tirith to see Aragorn on his throne, and meet Arwen—Elrond's daughter, and Aragorn's queen. I know he would welcome you, and Arwen has undoubtedly heard of you."
With the excitement burning in his eyes it was hard not to feel an answering desire, but her fear remained. "I could not simply go," she protested, choosing to ignore his hint about Aragorn.
"Why not?"
"I…I simply cannot walk out and go there! I don't know the way, and my archery is really not good enough for such a journey," she was grasping for anything that would keep her safely in Mirkwood.
Legolas smiled faintly, seeing she had completely missed the point. "Mine is, though, and the times are better than when I last left. The way should be pretty safe, and it ends well away from Mordor."
"You would be going?" A slight frown drew her brows together.
"Of course. I have already promised Gimli I would see him shortly, and Aragorn expects me to visit as well."
"The dwarf?" she asked in amazement.
He smiled crookedly. "I know, but you shall have to meet him. Though no one could ever replace you, he is… an endearing creature, really. He looks up to the elves, at least since meeting Galadriel."
"You met Galadriel?"
He laughed in delight, for he could almost feel her leaning over to the side of going. "I have quite a story to tell, I see."
"I see it as well. Pray tell, my King, pray tell." She adjusted her position so she was comfortably waiting, and listened to the entire tale, for Legolas left very little out, mostly the things Galadriel had said and some of his own fears. He spent more time on the woods, but that was only natural, for ever story teller keeps their audience in mind, and Salan had always been and would always be a wood-elf… even beyond her birth title of Mirkwoodian elf. Her eyes were shining with the glow of things unseen when he finished, and she looked down at her hands, feeling rather silly for remaining in Mirkwood for so long when there were such wonders to behold elsewhere. "Why did you return, if things were so beautiful?" she asked as she studied the Galadhrim bow he had been given at the departure of the fellowship from Lothlorien.
He smiled, taking in the wonder in her eyes, knowing full well he had won, as long as he did not rush her now. He paused a moment to decide how to go on, finally choosing some caution, though he had never been one to back down from a challenge. "I missed my family, and I missed you. I had to come back, to see what I was missing, to decide once and for all if I wished to move to Fangorn until I heed the call."
"Have you decided?"
"It all comes down to a single question, really, though I could be happy here as well as there."
"What is that?" she asked softly, laying the bow aside reverently.
"Would you go with me?"
A frown brought her brows together, and she lowered her gaze to her hands, twisting them together before forcing them to go still as he touched the backs lightly with his fingertips. "Is that the question it all comes down to? Because it seems an inconsequential one."
"It has become very important to me."
She shook her head. "It is not. You could order me to go with you, and I would. I am yours to command, my lord Legolas."
He shook his head right back at her, lifting her head with a knuckle under her chin. "I do not command you, I never have."
"You left a prince, you returned a king. Where a prince may not command, a king may."
He shook his head once more, getting to his feet, turning his back to her, trying to keep his hands from forming fists as he found a sudden desire to shake her until she understood rushing through his veins. "I shall never command you."
"Then you do not wish my company to Fangorn?"
"I do, very much." He would not be able to leave her behind. If she didn't go, neither would he. Except for visits to his friends, of course.
"Then why do you not command me? It is your right."
"I wish to know if you would join me willingly, as the one closest to me."
Salan frowned and got up behind him, moving so she could see his stony face and set jaw. She got caught in the slight coppery glow his hair let off in the candle light, but the conversation's serious tone retrieved her before long. "Lemarha was in that place until you returned."
He snorted, a very un-kingly thing to do, and shook his head. "You know that is not true. She was never more than a slight friend, barely more than an acquaintance. When I arrived earlier, she no longer knew me. She fled from my very presence. My family, even, looked into my eyes as if I was a strange elf, someone they had never met. You, though, you saw what they saw, accepted it as if you have been expecting it, without surprise, without fear as I have also seen since my return. It was not Lemarha's words that had me offering my bow for the fellowship, it was not her voice I heard singing the tales of the stars as the time in Moria grew ever darker, it was not her I wished to have beside me when I explored Lothlorien."
"It was a dwarf," she murmured, trying to lighten the moment, because she was sure what she thought was hearing was not what he meant to say.
"How did you know me? When no one else did, why did you accept me without surprise?"
She looked at him then, her eyes clear as she finally answered. "Because I have seen this in you for many years, Legolas. It was merely a matter of time before you let go of your childhood and became the king you were born to be. You did so as you were away, at the same time severing the connection we had."
Legolas met those eyes without turning away as he would have before, when he simply was not ready to see what wisdom she held. "I do not miss it," he stated simply, catching her chin in his hand when she dropped her gaze. He lifted her head and continued speaking despite the pain he found in her eyes for his quick dismissal of their friendship. "For what I find within myself for you now is so much stronger, so much more compelling that I simply do not wish for things to return to the way they were. I cannot move to Fangorn if you do not accompany me and stay at my side as you have for so long, though you restricted yourself to the shadow my title cast."
"Legolas," she protested, turning her head aside. "Do not release your senses! What you are saying is madness!"
"Why?" he asked at once, for once he had gotten around his own feelings, his mind had tackled the problem before him with a rapidity that surprised him, puzzling pieces into place until he felt he must have been either a child or a fool not to have seen what was now so clear. Maybe he had been both, a foolish child, for to call himself one or the other did not seem harsh enough for what he had inadvertently done in his blindness.
"We are friends."
"We are more, and could be even more than that."
"I do not wish a lover," she spat, turning aside, starting to walk out, but his hand closed over her arm, stopping her before she made it a step away from him.
"You never have, have you? Why is that?"
She went still beneath his hand, not looking up at him. "You were foolish enough in that way. If I have never been interested in being a wife, why should I be tempted to be a lover? Left behind after a night… or two, if I'm one of the lucky ones?"
He closed his eyes, feeling the backlash of his foolish years more keenly that he would ever have dreamed possible. After all, the blow was delivered by the one friend who had always stood by him, no matter his idiocy. Knowing why she sought to hurt him was the only thing that gave him strength enough to press on. "You have called me your king," he stated softly, retaining his grip when she tried to jerk free, "why does it surprise you when I claim to wish to have a queen?"
"That would not surprise me at all, but a queen I can never be."
"Why not?"
"I am a mere wood-elf, Legolas. You cannot change that."
"Your blood matters little to me."
"You cannot say the same for your father, however."
"He has waited millennia for me to find a bride. At this point in my life I think he would be content with whatever I brought before him as long as it was female and breathing, if I was happy. For most of our lives, you have been the only one who could always make me happy, could bring joy into my heart."
She stubbornly shook her head, her hair brushing over his arm even as she tried again to free herself. "You cannot confuse a friend with a mate, Legolas. Your friend I shall always be, but nothing more. Never anything more," she repeated as he tightened his hold, tempted again to shake her.
"You already are more! It was you I missed most, you I could not resist returning to see. It was the sight of you that helped alleviate the call to the point that I had forgotten of it until you recognized it."
"No!" she backed away, her eyes wide and beginning to go wild. "I will not be a replacement for Lemarha!"
"I am most glad to hear that," he informed her, frowning slightly at the fear in her eyes. "Why does this frighten you so?"
"Because it isn't real, Legolas. You have been gone for the longest amount of time you ever have been from home, and you changed at the same time. You think those you left behind have changed as well, but it is not so. You will understand that in a while. Give yourself time to readjust to elves."
He released her with a sigh, but held her with his eyes for a while longer. "I shall give the time you desire, but I will not change my heart, and one cannot ever return to ignorance." Denial built in her eyes, so he placed his fingers lightly over her lips. "You have cut deeply enough tonight, as I believe I have as well. We will give it time." He nodded slightly, agreeing with himself that time would be what she needed.
As for Salan, as soon as he released her she raced away, shutting herself in her room, sinking against the door and sliding to the floor as soon as the door had closed, wrapping her arms around her knees as the sobs that had been shaking through her welled up in her throat, released in a tormented torrent of tears.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Time for bed," a male voice declared, poking his head in the door, his hair lit silvery gold by the starlight.
"Father!" three voices complained.
He grinned crookedly. "Good story?" he asked, a teasing light sparkling in his eyes, for he undoubtedly knew quite well the story I was telling them, and had probably interrupted when he had on purpose. "Come on. Say good night to nana."
"Good night, nana."
"Father, couldn't we just—"
"Say good night," he insisted, his eyes compelling his youngest to sigh and mumble the words before he kissed my cheek and followed his sisters in their path. When they had trailed out, he turned, the sparkle glowing again.
"Now who is being cruel, child?"
He laughed softly, bending to kiss my cheek. "I learned from the master," he asserted with a mock bow, before winking and walking quickly from the room, pulling the door closed behind him.
I couldn't help but chuckle, remembering how he had wished he could have interrupted his father's stories, since his father interrupted his. He was getting his revenge, in a round about way, since sending them off to bed a bit early assured the three children would wake earlier, harassing their grandfather, who loved it even though it sometimes overwhelmed him.
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Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! You finally get a tiny bit of the children's father in this one. Next chapter coming by next Saturday (NOT tomorrow… SORRY!).